E-Verse Top 100 Cool Novels #79: Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis, 1922
by Ernie on 05/03/10 at 1:25 pm
Babbitt, Sinclair Lewis, 1922.
It’s rare that a novel or one of its characters enters everyday language. Most people can identify Captain Ahab or Hester Prynne, and their circumstances or personalities may be summoned to make a point about obsession or hypocrisy. But only rarely does a novel get right to the heart of a matter the way Sinclair Lewis’s lambasting novel of small-town smugness did. In a whirling Jazz Age of flappers, bohemians, and political activists, we encounter one George F. Babbitt: middle-aged but still somehow trustingly boyish, a sanctimonious member of the comfortable new bourgeoisie, real estate man, booster, thoughtless racist, bombastic fool, tool of the elite, lover of status, scourge of the new, a man too eager to be liked, sometimes sad and uncertain, dutiful if dull husband, loving if narrow-minded father, trustworthy friend and suspicious upright citizen.
Babbitt embodies all that Sinclair found hypocritical and just plain awful about small-town America. Behind the trumpets of civic pride lurks a venal oligarchy, bent on preserving its own privilege at all costs. But there is more. Because he probably just couldn’t help himself, Sinclair infused Babbitt with enough humanity to make him sympathetic to all but the most judgmental reader. Babbitt examines a moment and a type in American history (though it is remarkably fresh and relevant today), yet it is also a marvelous assessment of the dreaded “mid-life crisis.” Poor, bumbling Babbitt, trapped on his societal rung, yearning for approval from those above while snubbing those below, aching for escape from his routine while defending the foundations of decent society, craving youthful adventure while lecturing others about responsibility and decorum: he’s a sucker, but we feel he isn’t an impossibly hateful man. He’s what my father would have called a complete horse’s ass. He’s not evil, just mediocre and painfully bland, pulled this way and that by new social trends (some progressive, others reactionary) and the chance to advance himself (often at the expense of others) and support his family in a manner to which they’ve become accustomed, as we say.
Surely Babbitry is to be frowned upon, and “Babbitt” remains a terrible epithet to drop on an enemy. To do so is to suggest that a person lacks imagination, dignity, empathy, and some essential goodness. But let’s lay off Babbitt for just a while and remember that’s he’s actually just a regular guy, trying to get ahead, struggling to figure out what (and who) to believe, and hoping for one last chance at a childish enthusiasm that seems to have drained out of his life. He’s made up of equal parts good and bad, stuck in a stifling belief system that he’s not bold enough to break out of. There are worse things. So feel sorry for Babbitt. Laugh at him. You will. But don’t be surprised if you find yourself suddenly feeling a bit sorry for him, and, heaven forefend, even identifying with him every now and again.
