Sinclair Lewis’s brilliant black satire enjoyed a considerable spike in popularity after Trump’s election, and it’s hardly challenging to decipher the correlation.
It Can’t Happen Here introduces a fictional malefactor to American history, and Franklin D. Roosevelt loses the 1933 presidential elections to one Berzelius “Buzz” Windrip, a self-serving, pseudo-traditionalist who woos the masses with the prospect of economic reform only to emerge as a brutal plutocrat.
It’s an ingenious indictment, not only of fascism, but also of popular complacency; and, aside from the fact that it’s a tremendously intelligent pastiche of fiction and history, it’s really very funny.
4. The Magic Christian by Terry Southern (1959)
The Magic Christian is like a perverted fairytale: it’s genuinely comical, but it intermittently inhibits comfort by hitting too close to home. Guy Grand – capitalism’s answer to John Doe, perhaps – is an eccentric tycoon with a penchant for practical jokes. He especially delights in testing the limits of people’s appetite for money; and while some of his pranks are fairly benign, others reveal the terrifying magnitude of the power at his disposal, as he continues to debase and humiliate people on an ever-enlarging scale. Southern’s barbed farce transcends a perfunctory rendering of greed, as he evaluates the precarious interplay between money, power, and rationality.
5. The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin (1971)
Frightening and wonderful, The Lathe of Heaven features the luckless George Orr, whose dreams alter the makeup of reality. Orr uses drugs to keep keep this disorientating effective facility at bay, but when he is forced to confide in manipulative therapist William Haber, the latter forces Orr to modify reality according to his therapist’s ideals.
Initially, Haber’s adjustments are altruistic; but, predictably, he begins to use Orr’s faculty to supplement his wealth and status as his appetite for power compounds. In keeping with Le Guin’s typical genius, The Lathe of Heaven is a complex, intriguing interrogation of the ways in which we construe – and construct – our own realities.