The Bookworm: The Jungle

The Jungle by Upton Sinclair. 396 pages. Barnes & Noble Classics. 1906.

It was all so very businesslike that one watch it fascinated. It was pork-making by machinery, pork-making by applied mathematics. And yet somehow the most matter-of-fact person could not help thinking of the hogs; they were so innocent, they came so very trustingly; and they were so very human in their protests — and so perfectly within their rights! They had done nothing to deserve it; and it was adding insult to injury, as the thing was done here, swinging them up in this cold-blooded, impersonal way, without pretence at apology, without the homage of a tear. Now and then a visitor wept, to be sure; this slaughtering machine ran on, visitors or no visitors. It was like some horrible crime committed in a dungeon, all unseen and unheeded, buried out of sight and of memory.

I’m gonna make this as short as possible because I’ve had my fill of The Jungle.

No doubt it’s a classic — Upton Sinclair’s distinctive mark on American literature and culture — but, as the introduction author wrote, it is not “a great work of literature.” In fact, I’ll go out on a limb and say it’s pretty bad.

The tale of Jurgis Rudkus and his unfortunate band of Lithuanians, who immigrate to Chicago and toil like slaves in the infamous stockyards, is definitely good muckraking fiction. Before writing, Sinclair immersed himself in the migrant culture of the Windy City. He apparently happened across a Lithuanian wedding party one day, which inspired the opening of the book. However, though The Jungle delivers what I assume is a realistic portrayal of life and death in the stockyards, and everybody knows its impact on the way America thought about meat — it certainly bolstered my vegetarian commitment — it felt so forced.

For the most part, it was forced. Though the story was genuine, Sinclair intended the book to be the Uncle Tom’s Cabin for American Socialism. In essence, it is a 400 page leaflet, where the first 350 outlines Jurgis’ experiences with rampant and corrupt capitalism, and the last 50 serves as a shamelessly overt promotion of Socialism. I have no problem with an author having an agenda, and using literature to enlighten and educate, but I prefer subtlety. Contemporarily, the “hand of the writer” should rarely be felt pushing the reader. A subtle nudge may be necessary, but obvious guidance is way over the top. Sinclair used the, “Hey! Look at this!” method. It was annoying.

After finishing The Jungle last night, it felt like I read three different books. Jurgis and his family experienced and endured horror after horror after horror; they bounced from one tragedy to the next. It was mind blowing how much happened to them within 400 pages. Frankly, they would have been better off staying in Lithuania. Though poignant, the Rudkus’ sob story wore thin halfway through the book.

Here’s a tip: never buy a Barnes & Noble Classic. Holy shit. Basically, B&N decided to print literary classics as cheaply and poorly as possible, and the result is exactly what you’d expect having read The Jungle; I’m sure Sinclair would have been appalled. The text was so tiny I think I need a new contact prescription. I bought it used at The Haunted Bookshop on New Year’s Eve Day, so I did no supporting of B&N’s evil empire. However, I don’t think the book had ever been opened. The binding is built to be destroyed — the book is so small and tightly bound, it needs to be forced opened with two hands at all times — and the outside edge was smooth and uncreased until I started reading. I will say, though, that despite its pitfalls, this Classics version got the job done. It’s not sexy, or easy on the eyes and hands, but it was The Jungle.

Cool new word I learned: All descriptions courtesy of my MacBook dictionary. Efficacy: “the ability to produce a desired or intended result.” Pariah: “an outcast.” Stultify: “cause to lose enthusiasm and initiative, esp. as a result of a tedious or restrictive routine.” Cortège: “a solemn procession, esp. for a funeral.” Seraphic: “characteristic of or resembling a seraph or seraphim.” Maudlin: “self-pityingly or tearfully sentimental, often through drunkenness.” Impropriety: “a failure to observe standards or show due honesty or modesty; improper language, behavior, or character.” Garret: “a top-floor or attic room, esp. a small dismal one (traditionally inhabited by an artist).” Penury: “extreme poverty; destitution.” Insouciance: “casual lack of concern; indifference.” Saturnalia: “an occasion of wild revelry.” Fusillade: “a series of shots fired or missiles thrown all at the same time or in quick succession.”