This book holds a special place in my heart. I first read it as a senior in college, not because any professor assigned it, but because it looked interesting, and because I was now a “scholar” in a liberal arts university, and classics were now supposed to appeal to me. The Jungle opened my door to Classics…a door which Jane Eyre then promptly shut.
This happened to me a lot back then, one book opening up a whole new vista for me: The Shining opened me to adult fiction, Into Thin Air to survival/adventure, He Chose the Nails to Christian non-fiction, and The Book on the Bookshelf to historical non-fiction or “biographies of things.” All of those doors remain open for me, among many others, but classic literature is one that has remained fairly rusted shut since college. I’m hoping my recent re-read of The Jungle greases those hinges a bit.
Truth be told, I listened to this on audiobook with Casey Affleck as narrator. Hands-down the best voice they could have chosen! Stellar.
The Context and Summary
My desire to read this book again was sparked when I read Edmond Morris‘ Theodore Rex in which he explains how Sinclair’s novel swept the nation, even sparking the interest of President Teddy Roosevelt himself. Sinclair’s description of Chicago’s corruption struck a nerve in the President, a shameless reformer himself, even if the book’s Socialist overtones seemed a bit much. Some say that Sinclair’s book was the key ingredient in the formation of the American FDA, and it would be hard to argue against it. No matter what, this book got the nation thinking—and acting!—and it ought to remain fixed in the world’s canon of the most influential works of fiction.
The story follows a family of Lithuanian immigrants whom fate has brought to the stockyards of Chicago at the turn of the century. They speak no English, they have very little money, but they’re hopeful and industrious and certain that America will be the final answer to all of their wildest dreams. When the multi-generational family spreads across the city looking for work, Jurgis—the book’s central character, a strong and newly-wed young man—acquires a position on the blood-soaked killing floor of the stockyards. Others find random jobs here and there, and they seem to settle down into this brand new culture, enjoying a wedding and the fruits of their labor. That’s the last time we ever see any of them truly happy, and even at the wedding, there’s this undercurrent of uneasiness.
A leg injury here, a common cold there, rape, physical abuse, insurance scams, and real-estate vultures—the story of this family only moves from bad to worse as we readers are dunked with them into the filth and corruption of 1900s Chicago. Death and desertion seems a constant companion to this family, and Upton Sinclair pulls no punches in his descriptions of the vile practices not only of the Capitalist machine which has them all bound but also of the depravity to which it drives its victims.
At one point, Jurgis finds himself in jail for having beaten to near-death his wife’s foreman who’s all but raped her, and we readers feel like we’re at the bottom of the barrel. But Sinclair knows how to take us even further. Upon his release, Jurgis walks to the 20 miles through deathly cold temperatures only to find his wife on her deathbed as she tries to birth their second child. Though Jurgis spends the household’s every penny that night trying to save them, they both die. Soon after, his remaining toddler drowns in the sewage that runs down their street. Jurgis, now fully alcoholic and blacklisted from all work in Chicago, runs away from the household and becomes a petty thief, a drifter, and soon a full-fledged political thug.
Eventually Jurgis returns still penniless to Chicago, and life remains as black and as bleak as ever before. But then he happens upon a spark of light, a hope for the oppressed and downtrodden. While attending a meeting simply to get warm, his ears catch upon words of utter freedom: Socialism is the answer.
The remaining chapters of the book pull absolutely no punches as they espouse the life-saving promises of Socialism and its coming revolution. The Capitalist Machine devours the hardest-working and weakest among the population. It feeds upon the very souls of immigrants just trying to survive, and only one thing can save them from this vile monstrosity, a Socialist uprising that would change the very fabric of American “freedom.”
The Socialist Revolution
As you read this book and put yourself in Jurgis’ shoes, the pronouncements from the stage of these Socialist speakers is darn near convincing. Absolutely, those fat white Capitalist bosses need to be strung up in the city square, their bank accounts split wide open and shared with every waif and orphan huddled in the frozen doorways of our major cities. You want to rise up with fists raised, calling for blood. Even the preacher in one of the final chapters is on your side, telling you that “Jesus was the first true Socialist.” Everything looks grand! The Revolution is coming, so bring it on!
But then you remember that it’s not 1906 anymore. You think of billionaire Bernie and that Latina congresswoman (the social-media diva who gets way too much attention as it is), and you think: Wait a sec. This book is more than a century old. Life has changed dramatically and positively over the past century, and Socialism was never (ever) the instigator of that great change. Our wars against socialism and fascism in the world united our nation. We’ve watched as Socialism (and its favorite cousin Communism) has ravaged nation after nation, sending countless millions to their early graves via oppression or outright starvation. American governmental regulations against the overreaches of “bosses” and in favor of the workers have improved the lives of blue-collar America, keeping its Capitalism strong yet in check. Regulatory agencies like the FDA keep our food safe and our food-production a carefully monitored, well-oiled machine (granted, the FDA oversteps its regulatory bounds so often that it’s become a behemoth that needs taming, but that’s a separate discussion).
And yet even today, a dozen decades later, there exists within our borders a growing bloc of Socialists who still believe we need this revolution, who seem convinced that Capitalism is the Great Satan whose head must be crushed by the Worker (oh, and “free <everything> for all!”).
I don’t know. I think everyone needs to take a deep breath, grab a burger from Culvers and a free book from the Public Library, and realize that life in America is not nearly as bad as it was for the millions in Chicago during Jurgis’ time. Certainly, we’re a work in progress, but whether you’re Democrat or Republican, I hope you realize that the changes we still need to make can’t come by destroying our very foundations, by rending the fabric of our beliefs, by tearing up the documents of our founding.
Change won’t come through Revolution, be it Alt-Right or Socialist-Left. Those of us in the Sane-Middle need to do a better job at agreeing and cool these fringes down before they set our whole country ablaze in radical stupidity.
Conclusion
That was a long-winded way of saying, “I love this book.” As depressing as it gets, and as misguided as its main thrust is, this book holds up after so many years, and I hope it continues to make people think for generations to come.
©2021, 2025 E.T.