By Maxwell Maharry '19, Des Moines, Iowa, English, political science; Senior Inquiry project
Try to name a pro-capitalist novel in the American literary canon. Most great works of American literature only offer criticism of the country’s long-standing capitalist tradition. The Great Gatsby is a cautionary tale which concludes that the American Dream is actually a nightmare yielding only discontent and disillusionment to those who seek it. Grapes of Wrath makes the case that self-interest motivates capitalist businessmen and landowners to uphold a system that sinks thousands of families into poverty. The central message of The Jungle is that capitalism is destructive, inhuman, brutal, and violent. Of these novels taught and praised in classrooms across the country as the “best America has to offer,” none shed a particularly positive light on capitalism. Moreover, the few pro-capitalist novels that do exist, such as Heinlein’s The Moon is a Harsh Mistress and Rand’s The Fountainhead, do not occupy the same role in the canon, are seldom assigned in schools, and simply don’t ring the same bell as Gatsby or The Jungle. With this, half of the political sphere is left out of the literary conversation — the half which, instead, respects and commends the capitalist tradition. And as much as the works of Fitzgerald and Steinbeck are worth examining, so too are the works of Heinlein and Rand.
Such novels are worth engaging for a few reasons. If we only read those novels which criticize capitalism, we fail to consider the blessings that capitalism can offer — and instead find ourselves taking advantage of a system which has arguably presented the world with a level of prosperity never before seen in human history. We fail to take advantage of our guaranteed right to intellectual freedom enshrined in the First Amendment, which ensures that we have the freedom to consider and express all ideas as the basis for a well-informed citizenry. In fact, free market capitalism is the basis for the concept of the “marketplace of ideas,” which is the theory that truth will emerge from the competition of ideas in free, transparent public discourse, and that ideas will be evaluated according to their superiority or inferiority. Since this theory is, in part, what allows for an American literary canon which largely condemns the free market, we ought to at least engage with the novels that defend such a system.
To illustrate the value of intellectual freedom and seeking truth through the marketplace of ideas, this paper: 1) determines the function of literature according to self-proclaimed political conservatives and leftists, and 2) examines how those opinions manifest themselves in their respective works. The latter component will be accomplished by analyzing the work of two Davenport, Iowa authors: the conservative Alice French and the leftist Floyd Dell. By offering a comprehensive analysis of this subject, we can begin to understand why it is vital to engage with both sides of the literary aisle. Conservatives like Alice French teach us about the virtues of the American tradition, free enterprise, and individualism, and show us the pitfalls of authoritarian forms of government. Leftists like Floyd Dell teach us about the perceived need for equality-oriented changes in the economic, political, and cultural institutions of the United States, and expose us to a concern for those perceived as disadvantaged in society. In giving both sides our time of day, we receive two very different visions of America, and are allowed to make informed decisions as to which perspective we find more appealing — better than if we were to only engage with one side of the aisle.
“American Conservatism” and Alice French
There is, of course, no one-size-fits all definition for American Conservatism, but the following components highlight the main tenets of the beliefs that American conservatives have subscribed to for generations. Generally, American conservatives believe in respect for American tradition, unalienable individual rights, Judeo-Christian values, moral universalism, free enterprise, and individualism; they oppose theories of moral relativism and socialist, authoritarian, and communist systems of government. Russell Kirk in his famous book The Conservative Mind defines six specific canons of conservative thought: (1) “belief in a transcendent order, or body of natural law, which rules society as well as conscious” (2) “affection for the proliferating variety and mystery of human existence” (3) belief that “civilized society requires orders and classes, as against the notion of a ‘classless society’” (4) “persuasion that freedom and property are closely linked” (5) faith in prescription, custom, and convention, as checks upon “man’s anarchic impulse and upon the innovator’s lust for power,” and (6) “recognition that change may not be salutary reform” (8-9).
This belief system lays the foundation for determining how American conservatives, including French, view the function of literature in society. Conservative literature expresses pride in America, reverence for certain ideals of the past, and an uneasiness about the future (Kirk 250-251). Conservative works do not idolize all aspects of the past, however, as it is clearly flawed in many respects. Therefore, conservative literature must also advocate that “apprehension of the past…be fundamental to the projecting of any social reform” (Kirk 252). Ultimately, the best of conservative literature in America is that which can influence “the American temper with a respect for old things” (Kirk 252).
Conservative literature is “fiercely censorious, bold, resolute, industrious, allied with free political institutions, introspective, repressive of emotion, [and] seeking after godliness with a zeal that does not spare self-love, self-pity, or even worldly ambition” (Kirk 253). It is “cautious of action, suspicious of alteration and expansion,” and it “detests the materialistic, hedonistic appetites that predominate modern America” (Kirk 253). Conservative works should inform readers that the notion of “progress” is not inherently good, and that the only progress worth urgently seeking is the tedious progress of conscience on an individual basis (Kirk 259). Furthermore, conservative literature should aspire to find truth (Kirk 397). It is not expected to have an immediate effect upon the conduct of affairs in America, but should influence private opinion, restricted to small circles and scattered individuals in the vastness of the United States (Kirk 453). Conservative literature must also fill the void in society that politics cannot fill. According to Kirk, the conundrum of the modern conservative is to “restore a living faith into [a] lonely crowd” and “to remind men that life has ends” (492). For this, conservatives turn not to the politician for insight — but to the poet — since no less than politicians do, “great poets move nations” (Kirk 493, 495). Such works ought to have enduring themes of order, permanence, and an affirmation of continuity and lasting truths (Kirk 496). Thus, “not to the romantic liberal enthusiast, nor to the glowering proletarian poet, nor to the versifying nihilist, can a chastened generation turn. They must look, instead, to the poetic defenders of normality” (Kirk 499). In sum, the function of conservative literature is to defend, uphold, and espouse the aforementioned conservative values, and to set a positive example for future generations who easily latch on to anything labeled “progress” and are increasingly straying away from the principles that conservatives have held dear for generations.
Alice French’s writing at the onset of the 20th century fell directly in line with the American Conservative tradition. The stock from which Alice French came “had origins old and elegant,” which made it difficult for her to feel secure in a world of drift and uncertainty (McMichael 2). The fact that the transforming world in front of her felt directionless and unreliable speaks to her conservative tendency to revel in the sound, secure stability of the “old” way of doing things. As the daughter of a rich, prototypical capitalist businessman, French was linked with the rising capitalist class. According to French’s biographer, her writing defended the status quo and advocated for old values and long-entrenched traditions: “she defended conservative nineteenth-century free enterprise and all it embraced; she spoke and wrote against Prohibition, the naturalization of foreigners, [and] even woman suffrage” (McMichael 2). She opposed efforts of “social leveling” — i.e. the elimination of material differences between citizens through state-controlled redistribution of wealth and property (McMichael 18). The subjects of her stories included unpleasant foreigners, disheveled workers, and social rebels, who’s main fault throughout her writing was agitating society’s natural order (McMichael 23-24). She believed in the “obligations of capital and its perquisites, and the virtues of a society based on conservative traditions” (McMichael 24). She despised the ideas of revolutionary change spouted by those advocating for a classless society. French’s anti-leftist defense of the status quo persisted until the day she died. In an interview with a Davenport newspaper right before she passed, she stated that the “literature of today is drunk. It is intoxicated with its own vanity, with its appreciation of changes which it doesn’t understand” (McMichael 218). One reason, her biographer thinks, that French has evaporated into obscurity despite the wealth and fame she amassed while she wrote is that she erected a very particular and definitive moral universe at a time when literature in America pushed ideas of dissent and rebellion (McMichael 221). He also attributes her obscurity to her conservative politics: “apostles of change get full treatment in biographies and histories; literary conservatives are rarely examined and little understood” (McMichael 2).
The prior definition of American Conservatism, and its consequent views on the function of literature, are manifested in French’s story “Communists and Capitalists: A Sketch from Life.” The piece begins with a critique of unionization, which French sees as antithetical to individualism and demonstrative of the dangers of groupthink. When Mrs. Bailey, the wife of an out-of-work laborer, approaches the Countess Von Arno and asks to let her husband (Mr. Bailey) work for the Countess’ husband, the Countess replies that “if we were to take your husband on, and the union were to order to a strike, even though he were perfectly satisfied with his own wages, wouldn’t he strike himself, and do all he could to make the others strike? If Bailey were to leave the union he may go to hammering ploughshares for us tomorrow and earn… twenty dollars a week” (Thanet 487). Support for unionization is important to the ideology of the American Left (as we will see below). French, however, through the Countess’ character, highlights the flaws of mass-unionization and groupthink and instead favors the notions of free enterprise and individualism. Conservatives generally believe in the merits of individual creativity and personal responsibility — things which can go by the wayside when people deal with issues by consensus of a group rather than as individuals acting independently. Evidently, it makes little sense for Mr. Bailey to remain beholden to a union and all of its members when he can ensure higher earnings for himself and his family outside of the group.
Later, an emotional speech from Mr. Bailey sets up the Communist perspective that French will soon counter through the Countess’ rebuttal. When the Countess asks Mr. Bailey why he is a Communist, he answers:
“Why?” Cried Bailey. “Look at me! I’m a strong man, and willing to do any kind of work. I’ve worked hard for sixteen year: I’ve been sober and steady and saving. Look what all that work and saving has brought me! This is a nice place for a decent man and his family to live in, ain’t it? Them walls ain’t clean? No, because scrubbing can’t make ‘em. The grime’s in the plaster: yes, and worse than grime — vermin and disease sech as ‘tain’t right for me to mention even to ladies like you, but it’s right enough for sech as us to live in. Yes, by G—! To die in!” (Thanet 489-490).
Mr. Bailey continues, claiming that his dire situation is “society’s fault, which grinds a poor man to powder” in order to make the rich richer (Thanet 490). The solution for Mr. Bailey is for power to be stripped from “bloated corporations” and given to the people; for railroads to be seized by the federal government; for accumulation of capital to be forbidden; and for men to work “for humanity, and not for their selfish interests” (Thanet 490). Mr. Bailey’s speech at this point in the story is a classic iteration of the anti-capitalism, pro-labor, pro-Communism sentiment that much of the American Left espoused in the early 20th Century. The Countess’ response, seemingly representing the views of French, presents the conservative take on the issue.
The Countess shoots-back at Mr. Bailey with an ardent defense of capitalism and conservative values:
I fancy the chiefs of your party would demand a great deal more than a bare decent living. Mr. Bailey, the rights of property rest on just this fact in human nature: A man will work better for himself than he will for somebody else. And you can’t get him to work unless he is guaranteed the fruits of his labor. Capital is brain, and Labor is muscle, but the brain has as much to do with the creation of wealth as muscle: more, for it can invent machines and do without muscle, while muscle cannot do without brain. You can’t alter human nature, Mr. Bailey. If you had a Commune, every man would be for himself there as he is here: the weak would have less protection than even now, for all the restraints of morality, which are bound up inseparably with rights of property, would have been thrown aside. Marx and Lasallis and Bradlaugh, clever as they are, can’t prevent the survival of the fittest… If you had never tried to strip other men of their earnings because you fancied you ought to have more, as a skillful blacksmith as you would have saved money and been a capitalist himself. (Thanet 490)
The Countess elaborates on her defense of individualism by arguing that Mr. Bailey would be better off if he thought of himself as an individual — not as a member of a group. Doing so would motivate him to work harder, save money, enjoy the fruits of his own labor, and ultimately provide a better life for himself and his family. French shows respect for the American capitalist tradition and opposition to redistributionism through the Countess’ claim that Mr. Bailey would have been a successful capitalist had he used his abilities for personal gain, rather than trying “to strip other men of their earnings because [he] fancied [he] ought to have more” (Thanet 490). Speaking in opposition to Communist thought, French highlights her belief that freedom and property are closely linked in suggesting that Mr. Bailey should not have worked for a Commune, in which “the weak…have even less protection than…now,” and “the restraints of morality, which are bound up inseparably with rights of property” are thrown out the window (Thanet 490). Lastly, in response to Mr. Bailey’s emotionally-charged speech, the Countess places her emphasis on truth and reason: “Mr. Bailey, the rights of property rest on just this fact in human nature: A man will work better for himself than he will for somebody else” (Thanet 490). These items, coupled with the Countess’ resistance to change in the dynamics of the free market, reverence for America’s long-standing capitalist tradition, and attempt to find truth in her deduction of how human nature works, make this an overtly conservative message.
The story closes with what French presumably sees as the consequences of the revolutionary mindset of leftist resistance. At a Communist railroad strike in Chicago, there is “robbery, bloodshed, [and] the blood-curdling whisper of…a contemplated…burning of the city” (Thanet 491). Meanwhile, a group of young boys, “inspired by the occasion, had begun to show their sympathy with oppressed labor by pelting…two well-dressed strangers with potatoes and radishes, which they confiscated from a bloated capitalist of a grocer on the corner” (Thanet 492). Among the violent chaos of the protesting mob, Mrs. Bailey is killed. According to Mr. Bailey, the Countess is at fault for Mrs. Bailey’s death: “you and the likes of you, with your smooth cant, have killed her! You crush us and starve us till we turn, and then you shoot us down like dogs” (Thanet 493). Ceaseless pursuit of the leftist labor agenda leads to nonsensical bloodshed, disorder, and death. All of the lofty ideals espoused by the Countess in her pro-capitalism speech are drowned-out by deafening shouts and the sound of objects colliding with bodies. The irony of the small children, “sympathetic” to a cause they most certainly cannot understand, launching stolen goods at strangers in support of the strike is comical. Finally, Mr. Bailey’s indictment of the Countess for his wife’s death appears ridiculous — as the Countess was the one advising Mr. Bailey all along that nothing positive would come from a life of resistance and unionization. Thus, in a multitude of ways, Alice French’s “Communists and Capitalists” illustrates the function of conservative literature by championing a variety of traditional, conservative values: defense of American capitalism, opposition to redistributionism, opposition to Communism, emphasis on objective truth and reason, and belief in the vital link between freedom and property — all of which is bolstered by her general resistance to what she sees as a false notion of “progress.”
“The American Left” and Floyd Dell
The American Left constitutes an extremely broad range of individuals and groups that seek equality-oriented changes in the economic, political, and cultural institutions of the United States. Much of the social change pushed by leftist activists in the U.S. deals with labor, civil rights, and critiques of capitalism. The desire for change advocated by the American Left tends to stem from a concern for those perceived as disadvantaged in society as well as a belief that there are inequalities in society that need to be reduced by fighting for justice and fairness in areas of wealth distribution, opportunities for personal activity, and social privileges.
This belief system lays the foundation for determining how The American Left, including Dell, view the function of literature in society. “Proletarian literature,” which stems from the branch of American Leftism which advocates for labor rights and provides critiques of capitalism, illustrates this particularly well. The motivations for this type of literature are decidedly in line with American Leftist values, as “the literary proletarians all adhered to left-wing politics and viewed their work as contributing to the arousal of class consciousness” (Foley vii). From the onset, literary proletarianism was used as a political strategy (Foley xi). Two of the goals of proletarian literature were to articulate the present life of the working class and to inspire them to higher levels of consciousness and resistance (Foley 98). Most explicitly, advocates of proletarian literature hoped to create literature based in working class life “not because they viewed the working class as either colorful or pitiable, but because they saw it as the class uniquely positioned to bring about revolutionary change” (Foley 117). Such literature was sometimes explicitly created with the intention of making propaganda aimed at revolutionary purposes (Foley vii-viii). Thus, herein lies one of the main functions of literature on the American Left: as most literary leftists considered revolution to be necessary for achieving workers’ rights, literature became the “means of arousing and preparing the proletariat and its allies for their historical tasks” (Foley 118).
Floyd Dell himself described the function of leftist literature in a piece titled “Art Under the Bolsheviks.” He claims that in America, we have become so ensconced in the “art for art’s sake” philosophy that we have lost sight of the fact that “in the fiery crucible of revolution the hopes of art…[are] one with the hopes of mankind” (“Art Under the Bolsheviks” 15). Thus, in order to lay the foundation for a “genuine proletariat socialist art,” we must create art that accomplishes a few things: critiques “bourgeois society” and satirizes its “manners, heroes, favorites and ideals”; illustrates the “tragic dignity [of] the struggle of the workers against their oppressors”; and “celebrate[s] the revolutionary effort of the working-class for emancipation” (“Art Under the Bolsheviks” 15). A genuine proletariat art, therefore, does more than merely acquaint workers with the art of storytelling — it “ teach[es] him the courage and confidence in his destiny, teach[es] him… to scorn the ideals of bourgeois and capitalist society, deepen[s] his sense of community with his fellow workers in their world-wide struggle for freedom, and make[s] him face the future with a clear and unshakable resolution, an indomitable will to victory and freedom” (“Art Under the Bolsheviks” 18). With this, the ultimate function of literature for the American Left appears to be to bring about the egalitarian changes in society that are so central to their ideology. The examples provided above merely discuss this function in terms of worker’s rights, but there is no reason to assume that this principle does not expand to any social, economic, or cultural issue at hand.
Clearly, then, Floyd Dell’s writing at the onset of the 20th century fell directly in line with The American Leftist tradition. Anything but traditional, Dell was committed to radicalism and advocated for societal change at every turn. His reputation was that of an intellectual “whose mind was unfettered by genteel and classical dogmas — a young man of fresh and liberal views, responsive to every experimental and unconventional movement” (Roba). In 1904, when Dell was seventeen years old, he campaigned for Eugene Debs — one of America’s only relatively-successful Socialist Presidential candidates (Roba). Debs’ platform heavily emphasized support for unionization/labor movements and workers’ rights. Perhaps most notably, “Dell's first attack on established beliefs came with his writing for the Tri-City Workers Magazine, a periodical designed ‘to discuss all public questions of local and general interest from the viewpoint of those workers who clearly understand this class division and class struggle’” (Roba). In this way, Dell considered Davenport a place where he could “revolt against established authority” (Roba). Likewise, when Dell later moved to Chicago, he used his prior experience to gather like-minded individuals and organize movements of change (Roba). Dell was a man committed to the social, political, and cultural changes that define American Leftism.
The prior definition of the American Left, and its consequent views on the function of literature, are manifested in one of Floyd Dell’s very first commentaries on labor-rights written in The Tri-City Workers Magazine. His piece titled “The Builders” illustrates the tragic dignity of the worker, the short-lived triumph of capitalist labor, the lack of just compensation for workers, and the inclination for the proletariat to resist. Dell begins with “The joy of the master builder, when the cornerstone is laid, / And the potent hand is lifted that hot ambition stayed” (3-4). The “master builder” appears to signify the laborer in the industrial capitalist endeavor — of which the building-up of infrastructure (and capital) is central. When the worker’s work is done, a sigh of relief can be heard: “perfection be at last” (“The Builders” 6). Dell then shows that the worker’s triumph is short-lived, since the joy found in the capitalist mission is fragile and thus inevitably temporary: “Still fell the walls in ruin, howe’er so nobly laid”; “Still glory turned to ashes, and loveliness to rust, / And the builder failed forever to fulfill his awful trust” (“The Builders” 7, 9-10). Meanwhile, “The pharaohs and the satraps, they thought the deed was theirs, / And built these sand-swathed gardens, raised those sea-swallowed stairs” (“The Builders” 11-12). While the capitalist rulers proudly take credit for the work done by the laborers, little do they know that “behind their each caprice, working through hate and love, / Was the slow, subtle destiny that gave us good thereof” (“The Builders” 13-14). The workers are not ignorant to their exploitation at the hands of their bosses — and their consciousness and inclination to resist thus builds.
In an overall attempt to convince workers to rebel against their depraved conditions, Dell shows how the workers in the poem are purposefully manipulated and abused by the capitalist class. The unsatisfied laborers, who Dell labels “The fierce barbaric hordes that came to burn and crush and spoil,” epitomize hard work and dedication to their craft, yet are still harshly cast aside: “beastlike races that lived their unmarked span, / Behold, their work, — despised, forgot — fits in the perfect plan” (“The Builders” 20-23). The “plan” comes to perfect fruition for the capitalists, as they are able to revel in the accomplishments of the workers, while the workers are forgotten for good as their usefulness has been dispensed. The workers’ “wide-strewn sighs” that had “grand intent” were hidden “by some lingering haze of blood, or dust-clouds born of trade” (“The Builders” 24-25). At this point, there is clearly an unethical chasm between the the laborers and the capitalists as the laborers are forcibly, even violently, suppressed by their bosses. Dell’s purpose in writing “The Builders” thus begins to come into clarity: to ignite the working class, heighten their consciousness of the exploitation and suffering that they are forced to endure, and motivate them to bring about egalitarian change.
In the poem’s finale, Dell introduces the role of the “dreamers,” who are the final savior for the downtrodden and debilitated working class. The laborers’ saving grace are the “dreamers, who’s gaze was on the skies; / When dimmer sight found clods they saw fair, cloud-girt towers rise” (“The Builders” 26-27). Whatever effect the dreamers were able to have, the narrator now realizes that the toil was “slow and thankless, but perfect now they stand, / Those blood-baptized foundations, as in the first day planned / And loftier, grander, lovelier than our most bold surmise” (“The Builders” 27-29). At last, the dreamers — seemingly a representation of artists (authors, playwrights, poets) — allowed for something of a consciousness or awareness of unfair labor practices to be realized in the capitalists and/or society at large: “the meaning [was] plain at last to our maturer eyes” as “the world [gave] tongue to a joy unsung by the bards of yesteryear — / The joy of the master builder, when the hidden end lies clear” (“The Builders” 31-33). Dell’s leftist, proletariat purpose in writing “The Builders” thus reaches its conclusion. “The Builders” may be interpreted as not only a pro-labor poem, but also as a poem which advertises the role of artists in forwarding proletariat causes. The laborers are clearly dissatisfied with their outcome at the end of their project, yet when they come to “burn and crash and spoil” are immediately shoved aside by the bosses that oversee them. Despondent and in need of assistance, it is the “dreamers”— the crafty, sympathetic artists and intellectuals — who are able to finally make “the meaning…plain at last to our maturer eyes” and give a “tongue to a joy unsung by the bards of yesteryear” (“The Builders 31-33).
Dell’s “The Builders” is a perfect example of the left’s interpretation of the function of literature as he advocates for egalitarian changes in American labor practices. It is a clear critique of capitalism and revolt against established figures of authority. As Dell spells-out in “Art Under the Bolsheviks,” his poem “The Builders” critiques materialistic society, highlights she struggle of workers against oppressors, and advocates for the emancipation of the working class. In hopes of motivating the proletariat to “face the future with a clear and unshakable resolution, an indomitable will to victory and freedom,” Dell’s energetic push for egalitarian change causes his work to fall perfectly in line with the leftist function of literature (“Art Under the Bolsheviks” 18). His argument for the role of artists in this process is just icing on the cake.
Conclusion
Contrary to the belief that nothing of cultural importance ever happens in the Midwest, as the 19th century tuned into the 20th Davenport, Iowa was the home of America’s most important writers. In fact, as one journalist wrote: “at that time—the turn of the century and the following decade or two—Davenport was a literary center equaled by no other city of similar size in the country” (Cram). Once coined the “wickedest city in the West,” Davenport’s Bucktown area was littered with dance halls, saloons, music pavilions, theaters, and some 42 brothels. The economy was driven largely by manufacturing, and citizens wrestled with the most prominent political issues of the day: labor practices and the pitfalls of capitalism, immigration and nativism, and woman’s suffrage. Out of this vibrant and electric atmosphere came America’s most renowned and impressive literary contributions of the time — including those of Alice French and Floyd Dell. By realizing the function of literature according to these self-proclaimed conservatives and leftists, and seeing how those ideologies manifest themselves in their works, it becomes clear why we must give both perspectives our time of day. Hearing-out American conservatives like Alice French teaches us about the virtues of the American tradition, unalienable individual rights, free enterprise, and individualism, and shows us the pitfalls of socialist and communist systems of government. “Communists and Capitalists,” through its advocacy of individualist-oriented capitalism and denouncement of unionization and Communism, is merely one example of how conservative literature can provide commentary on such issues. Hearing-out leftists like Floyd Dell teaches us about the need for equality-oriented changes in the economic, political, and cultural institutions of the United States, and exposes us to the concern for those perceived as disadvantaged in society. “The Builders” makes this case through its critique of the capitalist class and attempt to motivate laborers to rise up and revolt against their helpless position in society.
The only way to arrive at a truly informed decision about politics, society, human nature, or the everyday matters of life, is to consider all perspectives. With an American canon that leans so drastically to the left, this task may be difficult in the literary world — but it is a necessary one that must be pursued. Doing so exhibits a commitment to intellectual freedom (i.e. the right to access and express all ideas), a right guaranteed to all Americans that ought not be taken for granted. In fact, the United Nations considers this a basic human right: “everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers” (“Universal Declaration of Human Rights”). In order to take full advantage of our protected right to intellectual freedom enshrined in the First Amendment, multiple viewpoints must be studied — including those who praise the merits of capitalism and those who denounce its pitfalls. Alice French and Floyd Dell present us with two remarkably different visions of America, yet allow us to decide for ourselves through the open marketplace of ideas which perspective we find more appealing. In doing so, whatever beliefs we choose to subscribe to are selected in a careful, deliberate manner — more so than if they were chosen after only listening to one side speak. So read Steinbeck and read Heinlein; read Fitzgerald and read Rand; read French and Read Dell — but read it all, for our commitment to intellectual freedom in the literary world hangs in the balance.
Cram, Ralph. “Former Democrat Editor, Spending Winter in Capital, Recalls Days When Davenport Was Literary Center Boastring of Seven Authors.” The Democrat and World Leader, 21 Feb. 1949.
Dell, Floyd. “Art Under the Bolsheviks.” The Liberator, June 1919, pp. 11–18.
Dell, Floyd. “The Builders.” Tri-City Workers, 1905
Foley, Barbara. Radical Representations: Politics and Form in U.S. Proletarian Fiction, 1929-1941. Duke University Press, 1993.
Kirk, Russell. The Conservative Mind. 7th Revised ed., Gateway Editions, 2001.
McMichael, George. Journey to Obscurity; The Life of Octave Thanet. University of Nebraska Press, 1965.
Richter, David H. “Why We Read: The University, the Humanities, and the Province of Literature.” Falling into Theory, 2nd ed., Bedford/St. Martin's, 2000, pp. 15–30.
Roba, William H. “Floyd Dell in Iowa.” Books at Iowa, vol. 44, 1986, doi:10.17077/0006-7474.1120.
Thanet, Octave. “Communists and Capitalists: A Sketch from Life.” McBride's Magazine, 1 Jan. 1878, pp. 485–493. Google Books.
“Universal Declaration of Human Rights.” United Nations, https://www.un.org/en/about-us/universal-declaration-of-human-rights.
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