ABSTRACT
Since he was awarded the Nobel prize Sinclair Lewis has written at least two other novels: Ann Vickers and Work of Art. As for Lewis, it is cruel, or worse, to make him stand for all that little stock of good which hardworking twentieth-century America is supposed to have produced in the field of poetry. It is necessary to recognize, renouncing the attractive notion that Lewis marks a step forward in the creation of an autochthonous linguistic medium, that slang and the vernacular remain in him local color, not yet stripped of their corporeality. Lewis' characters have all the external complication and internal monotony of the heroes in the local news. In fact, the real characters in Lewis are backgrounds and professions, and the people are only imitations. It is evident that Lewis' heroes all live the same adventure of suffocation, restlessness, and return to themselves: an ironic alternation of flights and imprisonments.
