Jack
Conroy’s literary reputation rests primarily on one novel and his
editorship of three short-lived, small-circulation, Depression-era
magazines. In terms of quantity, this output would hardly seem
sufficient to justify such a massive biography. But as Douglas Wixson
argues, Conroy’s importance far exceeds his specific literary
production. As editor of Rebel Poet, Anvil,
and New Anvil,
Conroy fostered the growth and recognition of a wide range of
midwestern and southern worker-writers, including Erskine Caldwell,
Richard Wright, Meridel Le Sueur, and Nelson Algren. In his
autobiographical proletarian novel, The
Disinherited, Conroy
drew on “the subliterary traditions of orality and worker
expression” to capture brilliantly the working-class culture of
midwestern mining communities and factories. Finally, Wixson
demonstrates the way in which Conroy symbolized a broad-based,
midwestern radicalism that has been largely overlooked by historians.
In
using the label “worker-writer,” Wixson emphasizes that Conroy
viewed his literary career and proletarian labor experience as
mutually reinforcing. Unlike most writers from worker-class
backgrounds, Conroy did not see his talents as a means of escaping
into the middle class. Rather, he made a conscious decision to remain
a worker and use his writing to convey working-class experience.
Conroy viewed literature as a weapon in the class struggle,
necessary, as Wixson says, “to reproduce from the fragmented
evidence of a confused and broken reality a coherent narrative that
remains true to the heterogeneous cultural diversity and irregular
textures of the original experience.”
Drawing
on recent literary theory, Wixson traces the wide range of influences
on Conroy’s
writing that enabled him to transform his personal experiences into
the story of an entire class—the economically dispossessed workers
during the Depression. “In place of strong authorial discourse and
carefully delineated psychological characterizations,” Wixson
comments, “Conroy’s
writing in this period explores the intertextual relations of his
experience and reading, crossing the line repeatedly between oral and
literary, folk vision and social history.” This intimate
familiarity with proletarian culture also made Conroy an outstanding
folklorist when he worked for the Illinois Writers’ Project in the
late 1930s.
The
book’s greatest strength is in the way it recaptures the
socioliterary culture of midwestern radicals in the 1920s and 1930s.
Often ignored in histories of the American left, midwestern radical
thought tended to be much less ideological and more individualistic
and eccentric than the east coast variety. Wixson recaptures not only
the spirit and character of this culture, but also the processes by
which it was disseminated. Because of the vast geographical distance
separating them, midwestern radical intellectuals often communicated
through letters for years before actually meeting. In this way, an
extensive epistolary network was established, connecting various
isolated radicals into a grass-roots network. Out of this community
of correspondents—nearly all of whom, like Conroy, were
“worker-writers”—emerged the journals which Conroy edited.
Wixson also discusses in great detail the problematic relations
between this group of organic intellectuals and the Communist party,
which always distrusted the individualism of the midwesterners. But
as Wixson makes clear in this fine biography, the same elements that
made Conroy such
a suspect Communist—his belief in democracy, decentralization, and
grass-roots activism—made him an effective spokesperson for the
“disinherited.”
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