Babbitt es posiblemente su mejor trabajo y esta considerado como uno de los libros fundamentales para entender la sociedad americana de la primera mitad del siglo pasado. Esta novela, publicada en 1922, es el retrato perfecto de una clase, la middle-class norteamericana, dentro de un marco tipico, una ciudad del Medio Oeste."

Fame was just around the corner when Sinclair Lewis published Free Air in 1919, a year before Main Street. The latter novel zeroed in on the town of Gopher Prairie; the former stopped there briefly and then took the reader by automobile in search of America.

Babbitt, first published in 1922, is a novel by Sinclair Lewis. Largely a satire of American culture, society, and behavior, it critiques the vacuity of middle-class American life and its pressure toward conformity. An immediate and controversial bestseller, Babbitt was influential in the decision to award Lewis the Nobel Prize in literature in 1930. Includes vintage illustration

Unabridged value reproduction of BABBITT by the gritty realist and Nobel Prize winner Sinclair Lewis. It is a tale of the emptiness of materialism in the roaring twenties that applies today to those wanting a simpler life.

The hero is Babbitt, ruling his business with militant normalcy and also the most grievous victim of his own militant dullness.

Lewis describes it this way, -He is all of us Americans at 46, prosperous but worried, wanting - passionately - to seize something more than motor cars and a house before it's too...

Unabridged value reproduction of BABBITT by the gritty realist and Nobel Prize winner Sinclair Lewis. It is a tale of the emptiness of materialism in the roaring twenties that applies today to those wanting a simpler life.

The hero is Babbitt, ruling his business with militant normalcy and also the most grievous victim of his own militant dullness.

Lewis describes it this way, -He is all of us Americans at 46, prosperous but worried, wanting - passionately - to seize something more than motor cars and a house before it's too...

It is almost unheard of that a book-length work by an important author is not published as a book until almost a century after it was written. This work was published as a series of three articles in the Saturday Evening Post in December 1919 and January 1920-articles that are very difficult to find. We are proud to make this work generally available by being the first to publish it as a book. This is an unusual book for Sinclair Lewis because it is written with a different style of humor than his other books.

It is the story of his travels around America in his Model T Ford. He...

THE towers of Zenith aspired above the morning mist; austere towers of steel and cement and limestone, sturdy as cliffs and delicate as silver rods. They were neither citadels nor churches, but frankly and beautifully office-buildings. The mist took pity on the fretted structures of earlier generations: the Post Office with its shingle-tortured mansard, the red brick minarets of hulking old houses, factories with stingy and sooted windows, wooden tenements colored like mud.

WHEN the windshield was closed it became so filmed with rain that Claire fancied she was piloting a drowned car in dim spaces under the sea. When it was open, drops jabbed into her eyes and chilled her cheeks. She was excited and thoroughly miserable. She realized that these Minnesota country roads had no respect for her polite experience on Long Island parkways. She felt like a woman, not like a driver. But the Gomez-Dep roadster had seventy horsepower, and sang songs. Since she had left Minneapolis nothing had passed her. Back yonder a truck had tried to crowd her, and she had dropped into...

Instantly, the dismay of it rushing at her, she saw the end of the patch of gravel. The road ahead was a wet black smear, criss-crossed with ruts. The car shot into a morass of prairie gumbo-which is mud mixed with tar, fly-paper, fish glue, and well-chewed, chocolate-covered caramels. When cattle get into gumbo, the farmers send for the stump-dynamite and try blasting. It was her first really bad stretch of road. She was frightened. Then she was too appallingly busy to be frightened, or to be Miss Claire Boltwood, or to comfort her uneasy father. She had to drive. Her frail graceful arms put...