Back before literature went over to the Counter-Enlightenment mind, body and soul, devoting itself to epistemological nihilism, Medieval misanthropy, sneering irony toward human suffering and social concern, and the sniveling subjectivism of the "writers" who have made of the world of letters a Modernist-postmodernist Wasteland this past century, it was the case that a great writer could be expected to show us something of the world through their art. In early twentieth century America this was still very much the case with greats such as Jack London, Theodore Dreiser, John Steinbeck and, of course, Sinclair Lewis.
In line with that cultural shift what made these writers great has since been held against them, with Lewis no exception. Indeed, that champion of the New Criticism Mark Schorer personally played a significant part in destroying Lewis' reputation (as he did that of H.G. Wells), and I am not sure it ever recovered. Still, Lewis' works did endure, such that the literate (such as exist) are still likely to not be completely confused when they hear of George F. Babbitt, or an Elmer Gantry--and indeed it seems that there has been some revival of interest in one of his later works, It Can't Happen Here.
Still, if the book was more talked about than it had been in a long time I'm not sure how many actually read it--and how many of those were attentive to the bit about what happened to higher education in America under the dictatorship of America's answer to Mussolini and Hitler, Berzelius Windrip. As Lewis wrote, the country got new model universities that, rather than "merely kick[ing] out all treacherous so-called "intellectual" teachers who mulishly declined to teach physics, cookery, and geography according to the principles and facts laid down by the political bureaus," were "free from the very first of any taint of 'intellectualism.'" Thus they virtually annihilated the humanities and sciences (dispensing entirely with ancient languages, ancient history, foreign literature and even pre-1800 English literature excepting Shakespeare and Milton, while in science declaring that "too much and too confusing research had already been done" and need not be bothered with anymore), leaving little but political indoctrination (the one history course retained in the curriculum devoted to "show[ing] that, through the centuries, the key to civilization had been the defense of Anglo-Saxon purity against barbarians"), vocational training ("lakeshore-cottage architecture . . . schnauzer-breeding") and athletics with a growing tilt toward preparation for what no fascist state can live without, war (with "speed contests in infantry drill, aviation, bombing, and operation of tanks, armored cars, and machine guns" counting for academic credit).
Being a satire from the 1930s Lewis' book had its over-the-top and in cases dated touches--but I leave it to you to wonder just how big a stretch this vision is from a great deal of talk about higher education conventionally treated as eminently practical and respectable, and what that says about the sort of media we have.
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