Tuesday, April 28, 2009

A big step in the growth of American literature

kw: book reviews, fiction, anthologies, classics

The world really doesn't need another review of any of Theodore Dreiser's books. I read a story of his so long ago that I can't recall anything but his name. I do recall reading, years later, two things that have stuck with me. Firstly, his books were considered controversial, primarily because of his struggles against censorship in a time of Victorian and post-Victorian attitudes. Secondly, that he'd almost single-handedly given a unique perspective to American fiction.

The other day, I saw a book of his short stories in the library, so I took it up. Now, having read the volume, The Best Short Stories of Theodore Dreiser, I can understand a bit of what the fuss has been about, and why it is over.

It is not for his writing style that he is famed. It is not quite plodding, but is decidedly heavy. It induces one to read slowly, almost like there's less there than you think. It is, instead, that his themes are usually so commonplace, so parochial, and thus easily understood. The great bulk of the stories in this volume are a mix of journalistic reportage and self-conscious musing (or reportage about it), presenting quite ordinary people living limited and ordinary lives. However, Dreiser had more breadth than this assessment indicates.

The opening and closing stories of the collection, "Khat" and "The Prince Who Was a Thief", are told in an Arabian storyteller's voice and take place in Yemen. At first, I thought he hadn't done his homework, because his beggars implored, if not a rupee or a handful of annas, at least a few pice. But I did the homework myself and found that Aden and Yemen used the Indian rupee until 1951, six years after Dreiser's death. These two stories are as close to "adventure" stories as the volume offers.

One story is no fiction: "My Brother Paul" is a tribute to his older brother, a famed songwriter and entertainer during the 1890s and a bit later. Paul Dresser was famously generous, inducing Dreiser to write, "Take note, ye men of satire and speen. All men are not selfish or hard." Indeed, there is probably a bit of his brother to be found in the central character of "A Doer of the Word," a man presented by Dreiser as the quintessential godly Christian: charitable, helpful, trusting and trustworthy, faithful and full of faith, a man wholly contented to trust God.

Most of his characters are much less pleasant. The self-centered journalist of "Nigger Jeff", the regretful, aging widower of "Free", and the philanderer in "Convention" come to mind. The second and third of these bring up a frequent theme of Dreiser's, the unhappy marriage. He married, badly, twice, and tended to chase the young ladies. He describes himself in "My Brother Paul" as unpleasant and dyspeptic. The portrait that adorns the book jacket is quite unflattering, or at least I thought so, until I went looking for photos of him on the Web. He was quite plain, and never smiled, at least not for the camera. It is a wonder any woman gave him the time of day. Thus, he wrote what he knew.

He tried his hand at speculative fiction. "McEwen of the Shining Slave Makers" is a dream sequence of the protagonist as an ant. I found this story the hardest to read through. The style is not just heavy, but sludgy. But I have to give him credit, it is better than any fiction I've produced. A fella's gotta know his limitations, and I must stick with nonfiction.

A further characteristic of many of these stories is that the lead character goes nowhere. No growth, no self-knowledge (or just enough to be paralyzed), and the tendency to balk when any genuine adventure presents itself. While I generally deplore a pointless narrative, I can see why his stories resonated with people. Much of his writing appeared at dreary times in the American experience, and the first reprints appeared during the Depression. He died in 1945, just before that exhuberant period in which his influence was overshadowed by Hemingway's. I think it likely that the spareness of Hemingway's style was to a great extent a reaction against Dreiser's wordy heaviness.

As difficult as I find that heavy style, it is infinitely more facile than the writing of an earlier generation, particularly Hawthorne. I hated reading House of the Seven Gables when it was assigned in Junior High School, and I would have found Dreiser's style a welcome relief (if his books hadn't been blacklisted by school administration). Dreiser, a man whose personality is reflected in many of his melancholy characters, reminds me of the man who said, "I'm not particularly bright, I'm just persistent."

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