Cover shown is for 1979 paperback edition (also first image with hgt=300) |
GENERATION OF VIPERS (annotated ed.) Philip Wylie New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1955 (1942) |
Rating: 5.0 High |
|||
LibCong 55-6424 | 331pp. | HC | $24.95 |
This book was written during World War 2 (Wylie1 writes that he "dashed it off" between 12 May and 4 July 1942.) He and the publisher did not think it would do well. It had sold, when the annotated edition came out in 1954, over 180,000 copies and was still going strong. And strong it is in substance; Mr. Wylie pulled no punches. His aim was to alert his fellow men, and women, to the desperate deficiencies2 under which they labored, so that they would seek self-correction. To that end, he has written one of the most stringent and unsparing critiques of American society ever put into print.
There is not one adult citizen of this still insufficiently democratic republic who will not feel the sting of Wylie's verbal excoriation. He chastises the common man. He chastises the common woman. He chastises uncommon men — by which he means those of higher education; professionals. Groups that receive an extra helping of derision are businessmen, doctors, churches, statesmen (that is, diplomats), college professors, and congressmen. And Philip Wylie's derision is the clear quill, 86-proof, bottled in bond. It ain't no downstream derision. It's not flatland derision. He has a rich writer's vocabulary and a knack for laying it on like... like the climax of that Cagney movie Blood on the Sun where, with a flurry of blows, Cagney finally gets the better of the big Japanese karate-ka. Wylie's writing is like that. The denigration comes on in bursts of verbal jabs — brup, brup, brup, brup, brup — with a final uppercut to finish off the target.
But there is far more to the book than just cascades of colorful insults. As I noted, Wylie wrote as he did because he felt the American public needed a psychological dose of salts: a purgative that would loosen their clotted misconceptions about themselves, and at the same time inspire them to seek and find a truer balance for their lopsided souls. He was, you see, vastly disturbed about the things he saw happening around him in those years — and not just because of World War 2, though that was a big part of it. No, he was disturbed about greedy businessmen who rake in profits beyond excessiveness, diplomats and congressmen who care more about well-meaning but pusillanimous international agreements than about measures which really foster democracy and protect the nation against foreign threats, churchmen who have distorted Christ's teachings out of all recognition or effectiveness and crammed them down the throats of their congregants to assure their own vainglorious preeminence.
But those are particular offenses which flow, in Wylie's view, from a general dysfunction of the populace. And here is where one of the book's weaknesses becomes apparent; for Wylie never really describes that dysfunction in a concrete way. He often refers to it as a lack of honest self-appraisal, or a failure to respect one's true instincts. My best description would be an over-reliance on intellect which leads, paradoxically, to a kind of robotic behavior: a life dominated by base cupidity or mired in dull subservience or despair.
The cure Wylie proposes to apply is also poorly described. It seems to be a species of psychoanalysis, but not the typical kind involving years spent on a couch. There is much talk of Jung, Freud and Adler, and Wylie evidently admires their methods; but he seems to feel that every man should undertake the corrective measures on his own. A large part of it is getting back in touch with instincts in order to achieve a more authentic lifestyle. Along with this should go honest self-appraisal. The result of a successful rehabilitation should be more community involvement and less hankering for material things, including labor saving devices such the automobile.3 If there is any modern parallel, I think it would be the "Iron John" movement.
It's not an easy book to read (or to review.) The vitriol is not the reason, though a few passages are tough to take.4 Rather, it's the sheer volume of vituperation and the fact that Wylie writes a lot about his prospective cure for what ails America but, as noted, never manages to set it down as a succinct, coherent prescription. But maybe he didn't intend to. Maybe writing this book was a sort of catharsis for him, that he hoped would inspire similar reactions in others if published. Whether or not that is true, his decision to publish was the correct one. It is a book of value, perhaps because of the tough language — which breaks through complacency — and the frequent obscurity of description — which ignites thinking. While its tone is often brutally harsh, it is not mean-spirited. While its language often meanders, its meaning is seldom muddled. Its message, ultimately, is a salutary and hopeful one. For me, it had somewhat the same effect as Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: threatening and stimulating at the same time. And, like Pirsig's book, it is best read a chapter at a time, with pauses for rumination between.