A satire of American values, the power of conformity, and the vacuity of American life.
ed; he dragged his thick legs, in faded baby-blue pajamas, from under the khaki blanket; he sat on the edge of the cot, running his fingers through his wild hair, while his plump feet mechanically felt for his slippers. He looked regretfully at the blanket--forever a suggestion to him of freedom and heroism. He had bought it for a camping trip which had never come off. It symbolized gorgeous loafing, gorgeous cursing, virile flannel shirts.
He creaked to his feet, groaning at the waves of pain which passed behind his eyeballs. Though he waited for their scorching recurrence, he looked blurrily out at the yard. It delighted him, as always; it was the neat yard of a successful business man of Zenith, that is, it was perfection, and made him also perfect. He regarded the corrugated iron garage. For the three-hundred-and-sixty-fifth time in a year he reflected, "No class to that tin shack. Have to build me a frame garage. But by golly it's the only thing on the place that isn't up-to-date!" While he stare
"A satire of American values, the power of conformity, and the vacuity of American life." must have been a pretty radical idea in 1922 when this book was written. But we have seen this done so many times since in movies, book and plays that it feels very old and tired. It does have a great ending and the writing is top notch. I really felt for the characters.
I thought it was all right, but nothing very special. I probably missed the point, but got bored after 12 chapters of pretty much the same stuff with no point in sight. Good writing and character work, but no plot I could detect.