[This] is simply the academic acknowledgment that Vonnegut was a purveyor of “midcult.” At least two other members of the league, Sinclair Lewis and John Steinbeck, have already been canonized by the Library of America. Perhaps I should not have been knocked off balance by news of his inclusion, then, especially since all three engaged in what another Vonnegut fan describes as a “career-long critique of America.” “I’m paranoid as an act of good citizenship,” Vonnegut explained, “concerned about what the powerful people are up to.” A midcultist whose psychological reaction to this country was healthier—Herman Wouk, for example, or John P. Marquand—would never be considered for the Library of America.
I think Steinbeck was much fonder of America than Lewis or Vonnegut -- who I agree is overrated. I think this is apparent in Travels With Charlie. But I like the point about Wouk and Marquand. The latter in particular is certainly deserving of the LOA treatment.
It may be so that Steinbeck was “fonder” of the country than Lewis, though I do not see that being “fond” of the country should be a measure of literary greatness or a criterion for inclusion in a series of volumes dedicated to significant American writing. Several years back the LOA put out a couple of volumes of crime novels. They were good crime novels that readers had long shown they liked by otherwise keeping them in print, but probably no more significant than Vonnegut (not an easy matter for comparison, I grant). But what I really wanted to comment on was Lewis. He was terribly fond of -– loved -- his country, to the extent that he became enraged (admittedly, he enraged easily) when foreigners disparaged aspects of America and its people. Only HE had the right to mock the land he loved, and of course he was a gifted satirist (if lousy stylist). He could, especially when in his cups (admittedly, he was often in his cups), recite verse after verse of hymns whose religion he mocked – or rather, the PERVERSIONS and charlatans of which he mocked. His novel “It Can’t Happen Here,” about a fascist takeover of America, was inspired in part by a fear that fascism did indeed have a chance to wreck the freedoms he cherished. Mark Schorer, Lewis’s first biographer, did not particularly care for him as an author, but said modern American literature could not be imagined without him, or words to that effect. Personally, I rather prefer the writers who point out our faults and follies to those who celebrate our greatness; they help to keep us on our toes and thereby help keep the tarnish off our greatness, in however small a way. As for Vonnegut (whom I like), I feel that anyone who survived the hell of the firebombing of Dresden – or any other soldiers who managed to escape extreme horror with their lives -- has a free pass to say anything about the horror of war, no matter how banal-sounding. But I digress.
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