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Zusatztext "There is more significant terror of a kind in Lewis's novels than in a writer like Faulkner... it is the terror imminent in the commonplace." Informationen zum Autor Born in 1885 in Sauk Centre, Minnesota, Sinclair Lewis grew up as the son of a country doctor. A bookish and imaginative child, he often felt out of place in his small-town surroundings. This sense of detachment later shaped his sharp critiques of American provincial life.After graduating from Yale in 1908, Lewis worked in journalism and publishing before finding success as a novelist. His 1920 novel Main Street became a sensation, exposing the narrow-mindedness of small-town America. He followed it with Babbitt, Arrowsmith, and Elmer Gantry, each offering bold social commentary.In 1930, Lewis became the first American to win the Nobel Prize in Literature for his vivid storytelling and satire. Despite struggles with alcoholism, he continued writing until his death in 1951. His legacy endures through his fearless critiques of American culture and society. Klappentext A neglected tour de force by the first American to win the Nobel Prize in literature, Kingsblood Royal is a stirring and wickedly funny portrait of a man who resigns from the white race. When Neil Kingsblood a typical middle-American banker with a comfortable life makes the shocking discovery that he has African-American blood, the odyssey that ensues creates an unforgettable portrayal of two Americas, one black, one white. As timely as when it was first published in 1947, one need only open today's newspaper to see the same issues passionately being discussed between blacks and whites that we find in Kingsblood Royal , says Charles Johnson. Perhaps only now can we fully appreciate Sinclair Lewis's astonishing achievement.1 Mr. Blingham, and may he fry in his own cooking-oil, was assistant treasurer of the Flaver-Saver Company. He was driving from New York to Winnipeg, accompanied by Mrs. Blingham and their horrible daughter. As they were New Yorkers, only a business trip could have dragged them into this wilderness, and they found everything west of Pennsylvania contemptible. They laughed at Chicago for daring to have skyscrapers and at Madison for pretending to have a university, and they stopped the car and shrieked when they entered Minnesota and saw a billboard advertising “Ten Thousand Lakes.” Miss Blingham, whom they called “Sister,” commented, “Unless you had a New York sense of humor, you would never be able to understand why that sign is so funny!” When they came to their first prairie hamlet in Minnesota, six cottages, a garage, a store and a tall red grain elevator, Mrs. Blingham giggled, “Why, they’ve got an Empire State Building here!” “And all the Svensons and Bensons and Hensons go up to the Rainbow Room every evening!” gurgled Sister. Their laughter buoyed them for a hundred miles, till it was time to think of lunch. Mrs. Blingham looked at the map. “Grand Republic, Minnesota. That seems to be about forty miles from here, and it’s quite a village—85,000 people.” “Let’s try it. They ought to have some sort of a hotel to eat at,” yawned Mr. Blingham. “All the best people there eat at the Salvation Army Shelter!” yelped Mrs. Blingham. “Oh, you slay me!” said Sister. When, from the bluffs of the Sorshay River, they looked down to the limestone shaft of the Blue Ox National Bank Building and the welter of steel and glass sheds that had been erected for the Wargate Wood Products Corporation since 1941, Mr. Blingham said, “Fair-sized war plant they got there.” Since the beginning of World War II, Grand Republic had grown from 85,000 to 90,000. To some ninety thousand immortal souls, it was the center of the universe, and all distances were to be measured from it; Moscow was defined as a place 6,100 miles from Home, and Saudi Arabia as a market for Wargate wallboard...
