I have been reading Upton Sinclair’s The Cup of Fury, a book he wrote concerning the effect of alcoholism on various writers he had known.  The stated purpose of the book, and its ultimate nature, is by way of preaching:  a crusade against the use of alcohol.

Upton Sinclair’s crusade against alcohol is certainly understandable, given that he had to deal with the alcoholism of his father and some other close relatives before even seeing it in his writerly colleagues.  His descriptions and remonstrations are stated gently and with a caring heart.  And he has a certain innocent love of life.  He notes, “All my life I have been able to say that I am ‘drunk without alcohol.’  To me this universe is one vast mystery story, fascinating beyond any power of words to tell.  If I could have my own way, I would stay here a million years to watch what happens.”  I feel an affinity with that way of being.  Nevertheless, the book still gives me the impression that he never completely outgrew his Presbyterian upbringing, and by the end, I found his abstinence-preaching rather tiresome.

However, my stray thoughts here are not meant to address Upton Sinclair’s views on alcoholism and the struggles of alcoholics but other matters he notes along the way that give a sense of the man, his philosophies and his limitations.  Clearly, this man was a progressive, cared about workers and poor people, and had a kind heart.  Nevertheless, I can’t help wondering whether he was somewhat intellectually limited.  So, my stray thoughts:

1. Upton Sinclair writes that Sinclair Lewis’s novels lacked social vision.  How could he not see what Sinclair Lewis was doing in his work?  –The exposure and critique of social  and political hypocrisy, not to mention rationalization, which exposure is a necessary step in social change.

2. Upton writes of Sinclair Lewis “standing in a church pulpit and ‘daring’ God to prove that He existed by striking him dead on the spot…”  Upton does not find fault with Sinclair Lewis over this, only references it in noting that people often confused them because of them both having “Sinclair” as part of their names. I respect Sinclair Lewis for it.

3. Interesting:  When Jack London went off to sea, he left his manuscripts with George Sterling and also gave him full authority to edit and market them–even more, London authorized Sterling, if he needed money, to write his own stories, sign London’s name to them and sell them at the high prices London’s name could get.

4. Upton finds fault in Ambrose Bierce for leading George Sterling into heavy drinking.  But he says more.  Apparently, according to Upton, Bierce, who worked for Hearst newspapers, made Upton a target for attack.  He goes on to note that Bierce’s war stories were “realistic and noteworthy,” but argues that Bierce’s “philosophies were destructive,” and quotes from The Devil’s Dictionary‘s definition of happiness (“an agreeable sensation arising from contemplating the misery of another.”  He goes on to quote H.L. Mencken on Bierce’s cynicism:

“There was nothing of the milk of kindness in old Ambrose; he did not get the nickname of Bitter Bierce for nothing.  What delighted him most in this life was the spectacle of human cowardice and folly…indeed, I have encountered no more thorough-going cynic than Bierce was.”

–A bit of the pot calling the kettle, in my view.  Given that Bierce worked for Hearst publications, I suppose I’d want to read about him and more of his work–his articles, etc. before giving my own definitive view of him.  But sometimes those who are most cynical are so because they care about the world too much and too clearly see its flaws.  And from the little I know of Mencken, what he writes of Bierce is just as true of him, if not doubly so–without the excuse of painful disillusionment.

5. I found a bit annoying the pride Upton takes in his family’s “southern gentleman” background, as well as his wife’s southern somewhat patrician background.   “Craig’s [his wife’s nickname] uncle was a man who owned two plantations; a handsome man with elegant manners and a kind heart.  A man who grieved over the fate of the black people, their ignorance and their sufferings, and grieved over the larger problem of racial inequality–for which, however, he cold see no solution.”  I realize that this particular book is about alcoholism and Upton goes on in that paragraph to write about the uncle’s demise brought on by drink.  But the offhand way in which he refers to black people–even in stating another man’s views–suggests either a blind spot or a desire to smooth over the fact that the uncle had a plantation–had, in fact, two plantations, and the effect that may have had on his views and lack of seeing action to be taken.

6. Also, although it is presented with humor, I find his reference to his distant connection to   Edward, Duke of Windsor’s wife, Wallis, a bit annoying.  Not so much that he mentions it but that I feel like he takes some pride in it–in my view, a limitation in what one feels gives status.

7. Upton ran for governor of California on a platform that apparently presaged many of the programs Roosevelt instituted.  As I noted at the start, clearly his heart was in the right place.

Upton ends the book by lauding Alcoholics Anonymous.  He traces its beginnings to 1934, and notes it was preceded by the Oxford Group.  He also notes, “it is really the Christian process of conversion, familiar from New Testament days; but it labors to avoid being so labeled.  Catholics, Protestants,Jews,Christian Scientists–all are welcome”–even agnostics.

I have no quarrel with Alcoholics Anonymous and think it is a good institution for those whom it helps.  But the religious aspect still bothers me because it could, in some cases, be substituting one form of addiction for another–though granted, conversion to religion will not physically kill one in the way that alcohol could.  I will give Upton Sinclair that point.