I found this book to be quite interesting in that the author (D.H. Lawrence, with whom I am unfamiliar excepting for titles of books he's written) is constantly contradicting himself. He speaks of people as gods, as their own "holy ghost". He thinks extremely low of women and Americans, Benjamin Franklin, in particular. At times it was quite witty, but I don't know if that was simply my take on his written word or if the author was in actuality being funny. He has a very interesting style of writing and after reading this commentary, I am sure that I will, at some point in the future, pick up some of his books to read.
He begins in chapter 1 by stating that "there is a new voice in the old American classics. The world has declined to hear it, and has babbled on about children's stories." He continues on to say that the Americans dodge "their very own selves." He speaks of the Pilgrim Fathers and their successors not having come here for freedom of worship but to get away from themselves. He ends this chapter on Franklin by stating and I quote: "Now is your chance, Europe. Now let Hell loose and get your own back , and paddle you own canoe on a new sea, while clever America lies on her muck-heaps of gold, strangles in her own barbed wire of shalt-not ideals and shalt-not moralisms. While she goes out to work like millions of squirrels in millions of cages. Production!
Let Hell loose, and get your own back, Europe!"
I must be stupid! What did Lawrence just say here? I think he enjoys confusing the reader.
His next chapter is on Hector St. John De Cre'vecceur whose "Letters from an American Farmer" he seems to have high praise for but then states that "he was an artist as well as a liar, otherwise we would not have bothered with him".
Then he gets into Fenimore Cooper's "white novels". "Rum + Savage = O." He speaks of the "Red Man dying hating the white man. What remnant of him lives, lives hating the white man." The "white novels are, says Lawrence, "Homeward Bound", "Eve Effingham", "The Spy", and "The Pilot".
But then there were the "Leatherstocking Novels", of which Lawrence states he has "loved so dearly". He calls Cooper a "Gentleman" and then also calls him the "great American grouch." Of the "Leatherstocking Novels", there was: "Pioneers", "The Last of the Mohicans", "The Prarie", "The Pathfinder", and lastly, "Deerslayer". Here is where the book began to fulfill my expectations. I loved how Lawrence wrote about Cooper's books and the indians and the whites in this portion of the book. And perhaps because I have read some of Fenimore Cooper, it was more easily understandable to me. He speaks to the indian's way of thinking as in their hunting introspection. "Hurt nothing unless you are forced to". But then he turns around and belittles them for those very thoughts and for their actions pertaining to them.
When he comes to Poe, he calls him more of a scientist than an artist, but at least he gives him the credit of artistry. And says of Poe's pieces that they are a "concatenation of cause and effect." He speaks highly of his "love" stories. "Ligeia" and "The Fall of the House of Usher", but calls his style a mechanical quality and says that "he never sees anything in terms of life, but almost always in terms of matter, jewels, marble, etc."
Now we come to Hawthorne who "writes romance". Everything is all sunlight and roses in "As You Like It" and "Forest Lovers". And while he disses "The Scarlet Letter" I could tell that he liked/loved it. About Hester, he says: "But it is truly a law, that man must either stick to the belief he has grounded himself on, and obey the laws of that belief, or he must admit the belief itself to be inadequate, and prepare himself for a new thing." He uses that term a lot. ("a new thing"). He mentions other works of Hawthorne. "Twice Told Tales", "The House of the Seven Gables", "Blithedale Romance" and then moves on to:
Dana's "Two Years Before the Mast". Lawrence appears to be quite taken with Dana's descriptions of life upon the seas and all the elements surrounding that. But he also shows him no respect when he says that after the two years at sea and after the writing of the book, "Dana went home, to be a lawyer, and a rather dull and distinguished citizen. Dana lived his bit in two years, and knew, and drummed out the rest. Dreary lawyer's years, afterwards."
"We know enough, We know too much. We know nothing.
Let us smash something. Ourselves included. But the machine above all.
Dana's small book is a very great book: contains a great extreme of knowledge, knowledge of the great element.
And after all, we have know to all before we can know that knowing is nothing.
Imaginatively, we have to know all: even the elemental waters. And know and know on, until knowledge suddenly shrivels and we know that forever we don't know.
Then there is a sort of peace, and we can start afresh, knowing we don't know."
I know that all that sounds really strange, but I found it somehow beautiful in the writing of it.
Ahhh, now he comes to the master; Melville. And Lawrence does call him "the greatest seer and poet of the sea." He speaks of "Typee" and spending time with the cannibals of Nukuheva, comparing this life with the life of Adam and Eve before the Apple episode. Next he speaks of "Omoo" and calls this one "good reading; a fascinating book; picaresque, rascally, roving." At the end of this chapter he writes: (and I loved this part)
"Melville was, at the core, a mystic and an idealist.
Perhaps, so am I.
And he stuck to his ideal guns.
I abandon mine."
The very last chapter is of course Herman Melville's "Moby Dick" or "the White Whale" To Lawrence this is symbolism at it's best. And while he does state that at first you are put off by his style and that it reads like journalism, but he also states that this is because the artistry in Melville is so much bigger than the man. We all know the story of "Moby Dick" even if we've not read the book. It is clear to me that Melville is definitely a literary hero of Lawrence.
Thus we come to the end of this narrative.
I would recommend this book to the very few who love to fight their way through a book. And sometimes we do. I found it to be enlightening and at times beautiful at times. ( )

This is a remarkable book. Lawrence by turns reveals contempt, condescension, sympathy and admiration for America. And the book is as much about America and the American Mind (whatever that may be) as it is strictly about American Literature. The literature acts as a lens which Lawrence uses to focus his considerable and intense mental energy on the American psyche and character.

You never quite know if he likes us or loathes us or is merely amused by us. That among other things is what makes this book special and highly entertaining. That and Lawrence's pointed characterizations and observations.

About Benjamin Franklin:
"He was a little model, was Benjamin. Doctor Franklin. Snuff-colored little man!"

James Fennimore Cooper:
"... Best stick to National Grouch. The great American grouch.
Cooper had it, gentleman as he was."

A very curious observation in the chapter on Edgar Allan Poe:
"It is love that causes the neuroticism of the day. It is love that is the prime cause of tuberculosis."

On Nathaniel Hawthorne:
"The absolute duplicity of that blue-eyed Wunderkind of a Nathaniel. The American wonder child, with his magical allegorical insight."

In the chapter on Dana's "Two Years Before the Mast" (which makes me want to read that book):
"This is what Dana wanted: a naked fighting experience with the sea."
...
"And his own soul is as the soul of the albatross.
It is a storm-bird. And so is Dana."
...
"So Dana sits and Hamletizes by the Pacific--chief actor in the play of his own existence."

Finally, Lawrence brings up dualism more than once in his commentary and then exemplifies it himself in his own attitudes and judgments. Speaking of "Moby Dick" he says:
"It is a great book." Then immediately after that:
"At first you are put off by the style. It reads like journalism. It seems spurious. You feel Melville is trying to put something over you. It won't do."

All in all, a brilliant piece of commentary that bears re-reading. It took me 46 years to get around to my second reading - I suspect I'll read it the third time before that long a time elapses again.

So irritating I had to quit after the introduction and half the Franklin chapter. At least through that point, Lawrence is patronizing and smug, and offers nothing in the way of tangible analysis of his subject. This only keeps out of the fully 'pernicious' category out of respect for the fact that it dares to present American literature as actually worthy of study, not a widespread view ca. 1923. ( )