Prejudices, first series

In Short

This collection of essays serves as a scathing diagnostic of American culture and literature at the close of the 1910s. The author systematically dismantles the reputations of established novelists, poets, and public intellectuals, arguing that the American literary scene is stifled by a suburban, flabby sensibility and a dishonest obsession with respectability. By contrasting his subjects against more rigorous European standards, he creates a blueprint for a more honest, cynical, and sophisticated criticism. It remains a vital document of the early 20th-century intellectual revolt against Victorian sentimentality.

The Story

The progression of these essays mirrors a surgeon’s approach to an ailing national body. The journey begins with a fundamental inquiry into the purpose of criticism itself, establishing that the critic should not be a booster of authors but a relentless investigator of their actual worth. From this theoretical baseline, the focus shifts to a series of specific autopsies performed on the heavyweights of the era.

The author first turns his scalpel toward English novelists like H. G. Wells and Arnold Bennett. Wells is portrayed as a once-promising talent who succumbed to "unmistakable dullness" and preachy theorizing. Bennett, conversely, is praised for his clinical, almost microscopic examination of the English middle class, yet the author finds his perspective ultimately devoid of the genuine human pity found in more profound artists. The narrative then moves to the American landscape, where figures like William Dean Howells are exposed as hollow legends. Howells, once the "Dean" of American letters, is dismissed as a purveyor of superficial, suburban stories that avoid the "profound dread and agony of life."

The critique deepens by attacking the institutional structures supporting these mediocrities. Essays on the "New Poetry Movement" show a literary world overrun by "mountebanks and their dupes," though the author grants a rare, grudging respect to editors who manage to maintain a semblance of sanity. The critique of Thorstein Veblen serves as a pivot, acknowledging his brilliance while simultaneously mocking the dense, impenetrable prose that masks his insights. The author then moves into the social sphere, exploring the arbitrary nature of American etiquette, which he finds both illogical and strangely revealing of the national character.

As the essays reach their final phase, the scope expands to include broader cultural observations—the decline of "muck-raking" magazines, the absurdity of the "Cobb legend," and the tragic, self-sabotaging career of Jack London. London is presented as a brilliant, sensitive artist destroyed by his own amateurish devotion to Socialism and a desperate, avaricious pursuit of commercial success. The conclusion finds no easy resolution or happy ending for the culture at large. Instead, it offers a portrait of a landscape where the "bogus saints" and "shoddy mediocrities" continue to thrive, leaving the truly original and distinguished artist to operate in a state of permanent exile from the national consciousness.

How It Unfolds

The mandate for the critic The opening essays establish that criticism must move beyond mere description to evaluate the internal integrity of the work. The author insists that a critic should not be concerned with the artist’s popularity, but with the artist’s ability to survive a "critical examination."

Dissecting the heavyweights The text moves through exhaustive evaluations of contemporary authors, contrasting their public reputations with their actual output. Figures like Wells and Howells are subjected to a harsh audit, with the author highlighting their descent into formulaic, "flabby" storytelling.

The sociological turn A significant portion of the middle section focuses on the relationship between art and the broader American social structure. The author examines why certain "bad" novels find immense success, arguing that the public values ideological conformity over artistic merit.

The anatomy of etiquette The focus shifts to the minutiae of social behavior, using American manners as a diagnostic tool for the nation's psychological state. The author playfully highlights the illogical contradictions of American life, noting how deep-seated irrationality consistently defeats logical reform.

The final assessment The collection closes with a series of portraits and reflections on figures like George Jean Nathan and Jack London. These pieces solidify the book’s central argument: that the American creative spirit is perpetually hamstrung by its own internal contradictions and its obsession with the middle-class status quo.

The People

The book functions as a gallery of caricatures and critiques. William Dean Howells is the primary antagonist of the literary section, representing the "suburban" and "caged" tradition that the author seeks to abolish. H. G. Wells appears as a figure of tragic decline, moving from sharp observation to "unmistakable bore." Thorstein Veblen stands out as a unique, frustrating genius whose profound sociological insights are nearly buried beneath layers of impenetrable, convoluted language. George Jean Nathan is presented as an ally in the fight against cultural mediocrity—a "raffish mocker" who serves as a necessary antidote to the "honorary pallbearers of criticism." Finally, Jack London is painted as a cautionary tale; a man of genuine, "vast delicacy of perception" who ultimately allows his artistry to be consumed by his own political posturing and the "avarice" of commercial success.

In Its Own Voice

Describing the disappointing late-career trajectory of a famous novelist, the author notes the shift from art to didacticism:

To help them out he heaved in larger and larger doses of theory—often diverting enough, and sometimes even persuasive, but in the long run a poor substitute for the proper ingredients of character, situation and human passion.

Assessing the work of an acclaimed author, the critic highlights the stark, unblinking nature of the prose:

It is irony that penetrates and devastates, and it is unrelieved by any show of the pity that gets into the irony of Conrad, or of the tolerant claim of kinship that mitigates that of Fielding and Thackeray.

Reflecting on the intellectual dishonesty of the American literary establishment, the author mocks the hollow adulation of popular writers:

One wonders what the graduate sophomores of to-morrow, composing their dull tomes upon American letters, will make of it.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the tension between genuine artistic expression and the "pishposh" of American middle-class respectability. The author argues that American culture is fundamentally hostile to the truly original or the truly profound because it prioritizes comfort, conformity, and moralizing over artistic truth. The questions beneath the text are persistent: Why do Americans prefer the "shoddy mediocrity" of a moralistic novel to the messy, difficult reality of life? Can a writer survive the lure of commercialism and the temptation to become a public "prophet"? Underlying every essay is the conviction that true criticism is not a form of support, but a necessary, often brutal, cleansing of the cultural field to allow for the growth of something authentic.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy polemical writing, sharp wit, and the intellectual equivalent of a "no-holds-barred" wrestling match will find this collection endlessly invigorating. It captures a specific, vibrant moment in American intellectual history when a new generation of critics began to openly despise the Victorian sentimentality of their predecessors. The writing is precise, aggressive, and often laugh-out-loud funny in its disdain for "bogus saints."

However, the reader must be prepared for the author's relentless cynicism and the dated nature of many of his references. Much of the book engages with writers who are now largely forgotten, requiring a certain degree of patience. Furthermore, the author’s tone—frequently cocksure and occasionally dismissive of social causes he deems "uplifting"—reflects the sensibilities of a different era, which may strike the modern reader as both refreshingly bold and occasionally abrasive. If you are looking for a gentle, balanced literary history, this is not it. But if you value the thrill of a writer who cares passionately about the difference between a "first-rate journeyman" and a true artist, this collection remains a masterclass in critical audacity. What stays with the reader is the author's uncompromising standard for what literature—and life—should be.