The inspiration of Sinclair Lewis

Three days—three posts! It seems like I am on quite the roll, but I have to be honest, since the year changed, I look at the my meager little blog archive, and I feel the overwhelming urge to fill out the 2011 tag a bit more. It just looks so sad and lonely down there, near the bottom of my page.

With ten days off from work, I spent a lot of time reading. I re-read some Edith Wharton, because I love the way she writes, and then because I am a nerd I went ahead and read some Sinclair Lewis, because he was mentioned prominently in the introduction to Wharton’s Age of Innocence. Plus, you have to love someone who tells the Pulitzer people to shove off (which was the reason that Wharton won the Pulitzer—Lewis refused the award). I am finishing up Main Street.

This is where J comes in. He doesn’t understand that a vacation, for me, is to sit around with nothing to do other than read. He says things along the lines of, “Don’t you want to go and do stuff with your time off?” to which I respond, “I go and do stuff when I am not on vacation. Vacation is the lack of doing stuff.”

Which, is not completely true—because I love traveling as much as anyone else out there—but right now, all I wanted to do was to watch crappy cable TV, do laundry, play video game with the boys, and read.

Back to Sinclair Lewis.

I had not read Main Street before, and what shocks me is that if you took out a handful of things (descriptions of furniture, and dress, and the like) it could be set in present day. Carol, the main character, cannot find what she wants. She flits around, trying to figure out what she truly wants from her life (and her marriage) and while she is seeking her bliss, her purpose, and her meaning, she keeps attempting to project it onto others in the small town where she settles with her country doctor husband. Every time Carol feels inadequate in one aspect or another of her life, she projects this onto the town, and attempts to ‘fix’ the town itself, or the townspeople. They are, well, a tad reluctant.

It reminds me a lot of women I know today, myself included. How many of us walk around, trying to seek that one great purpose or meaning, and then push our pet project onto others in our life? Hmm, like this blog, perhaps?

How many times do I flit from one idea to the next, like Carol does in the book, trying to find one that really resonates—scratch that—just one that sticks—in an attempt to bring some value to myself (although I repeat and repeat that I am trying to bring value to others)? Have you ever done this yourself?

Then you get to the problems that the town faces (of course, keep in mind that these ‘problems’ are perceived primarily by Carol, and the townspeople can find numerous problems of their own. In fact, everyone in town has their own agenda, based on their perceptions) which are many of the very same things we discuss today:

Keep the town nice. Keep businessmen from ripping off good folk. Keep the recently immigrated at bay. Keep the politics of your preference in power. Keep the church of your choice on top. Keep the kids off the street and out of trouble. You get the idea.

Logically, I think to myself that perhaps I should find this book rather gloomy and pessimistic. That I should be saddened by the fact that the issues Lewis brings up-- in a book that is 90 years old – are still issues today. Somehow, however, I feel optimistic and hopeful when I read this book.

Why? Because perhaps it is a good thing that we still continue to strive to make things better. That while we may not be able to solve every problem of civilization, and actualize some version of utopia, we still keep reaching; we still try to do so. We keep thinking, and educating and living by trial and error. Although I would never say that it is a good thing to project your goals, aspirations, or ideals onto another individual or group, the fact that we still want to help our fellow man (despite the specifics on how you think this best accomplished) is the greatest part of our humanity.

Perhaps the best part of being a human is not that we are already human, but that we continuously strive to be more human.