Imagine Upton Sinclair, resurrected from the dead, and assassinated by RWers -- over and over again

[brentspeak]

That's the wild premise behind the latest novel I've been reading, "U.S.!", written by Chris Bachelder (Bloomsbury Press, 2006).

Bachelder comes up with an apt metaphor for the current state of the American Left: Upton Sinclair, the long dead (since 1969) muckraking author of "The Jungle" and committed socialist, is resurrected, over and over again, by young leftists who place the cantankerous Sinclair into hiding. And then, just as repeatedly, Sinclair is assassinated by right-wing types, who are hailed by the corporate press, feted on TV talked shows, and who offer tips to the public on Sinclair-assassination. But the self-styled "patriots" always fail to kill Sinclair before he manages to write yet another mediocre but impassioned novel blasting the inequity and unfairness of our capitalist system.

This is a really funny and clever book, and I recommend it to anyone who wants to understand how screwed up American politics and society has become.

[acmavm]

1. I'll try to check it out. I think Sinclair is one of America's most important

authors.

King Coal and Boston. Along with The Jungle, novels that I'd make mandatory reading in schools all across this country.

[brentspeak]

2. Here's an excerpt, from Chapter One

The scene: two young activists are riding away from a cemetery at night, with the recently-disinterred and slowly-reviving Sinclair in the back seat:

I said, "Mr. Sinclair?"

He tried the word again and this time I could make it out. Cold. I told Tony to turn up the heat. "Heat, OK," Tony said. The heater fan in the old Valiant had the same rattling volume, the same noise-to-air ratio, as fans in gas station bathrooms. Upton hugged himself and rocked back and forth in the seat. His heavy breathing occasionally burst into coughing fits that sprayed small pebbles and clods onto the floor of the car. I could hear them popping the vinyl floor mat like sleet on a window. The seat, too, was covered with a fine layer of dirt and dust, flakes of dead skin.

Here beside me, frail and ancient, retching dry dirt, was the last best hope of the American Left.

Upton squinted up in my direction. "Glasses."

"Glasses," I repeated, before realizing that I had been holding his glasses and dentures. We had removed them from his suit pocket, as we had been told to do. We had also removed the old letter from Einstein; we couldn't help it. We had read it, though we already knew it by heart, and then carefully replaced it in the pocket. "I'm sorry," I said, and handed him his glasses and dentures. "There's some water in the seat pouch. And some Dr Pepper." An article in an underground newspaper had said that Sinclair liked Dr Pepper, but this turned out to be a hoax. Later we found out that he is opposed to all dark colas.

Sinclair put on his glasses and placed his dentures in his coat pocket. He took the bottled water from the seat pouch and held it up right in front of his eyes.

"It's water," I said.

"They sell this?" he asked. "You buy this?"

"Yes," I said. He looked at me as if to ask another question, but he remained silent. I could not tell if he was impressed or disgusted.

He struggled to twist the cap off the bottle of retail water. His eyes were squeezed shut and his arms trembled with the effort. I offered to help him but he ignored me, he wouldn't give in. Finally he broke the safety seal, removed the cap, and sniffed at the water. It did not occur to me to offer to take a drink of the water first. Years later, of course, Sinclair employed a series of tasters, one of whom died and one of whom killed him. They both kept interesting Web logs...

...

He said, "Tell me something." I just kept nodding, like a puppet, while Tony's face hovered in the mirror...

"Are we socialist yet?"

"Are we metric?"

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5257218

[acmavm]

4. Are we socialist? Are we metric? How clever. If he did come back I'm

sure that he would wonder why we aren't. All things considered.

[Elidor]

3. Holy shit!

That's either going to be very, very bad or very, very good. I'll check it out. Thanks for the rec.

[hfojvt]

5. Why should the American Left be so dependent on a 'great' man?

When the American right manages quite well without one.

Wouldn't it make more sense to bring back John Lennon, since he actually did get shot? Or Bobby Kennedy? Or MLK?

Sadly, many on the left have been marginalized or neutralized amyway without the need for assassination.

[brentspeak]

6. The question you raise is a major theme of the novel.

Although, Sinclair isn't depicted as a "great man", but as a beleaguered, mediocre writer who nonetheless has the courage of his convictions.