Anyone who could call Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle entertainment is morally bankrupt.
The novel, which rocked America in 1906, is exposé, propaganda, political theater.
The Jungle by Upton Sinclair
Viking, 1905. 343 p. 1906 bestseller #6. My grade B-.
Corrupt Chicago politicians. Salmonella-tainted food. Sub-prime mortgages. Water supplies poisoned by industrial waste.
Sinclair weaves a journalist’s reporting around the fictional story of a Lithuanian peasant family that comes to the US for a better life.
They have little money, no English. The only person they know lives in Chicago, so that’s where they go.
They get jobs in the vast meat packing industry.
It’s brutally hard, dehumanizing work.
They can’t make a decent living.
They are dependent on credit.
One slip—an accident, an illness—and they may starve or freeze to death.
Sinclair is less interested in his characters as persons than as representatives. His omniscient narrator keeps readers from getting too close to them.
Scenes are Sinclair’s forté: Slaughterhouses, boarding houses, jails, saloons, and brothels are described in sickening detail.
Sinclair’s protagonist, Jurgis, finally comes to see that his personal problems are epidemic, systemic.
Jurgis becomes a socialist.
The socialists have one advantage over other workers: They believe someday things will be better.
©2016 Linda Gorton Aragoni