At first, the narrative seems to embody a decisive triumph of objective naturalism-aesthetics and moralism completely disregarded. Frank A

At first, the narrative seems to embody a decisive triumph of objective naturalism—aesthetics and moralism completely disregarded. Frank A. Cowperwood, an unapologetic individualist, making his way across the tumultuous world, concerned only about his own desires; Dreiser makes no effort to judge, only to observe. The intricate details of upper-class social life, the workings of business and politics are all so well described that the trilogy can be considered a guide to becoming a self-made millionaire, way ahead of its time. The author doesn’t simply tell the reader that Cowperwood is a financial genius, he shows you. The events described consistently feel real, probably because they are, but one can only take so much inspiration from reality. Dreiser’s imaginative prowess shines especially in his construction of dialogue. Every line is filled with personality and no two characters sound the same. As you read on, it also become increasingly clear that the trilogy is not entirely devoid of aesthetics. All characters, no matter how minor, are masterfully presented, painting a clear mental and physical portrait in the reader’s mind. Here are a couple of quotations to let you get a taste:

“Mrs. Sohlberg was like the rich tinted interior of a South Sea oyster-shell—warm, colorful, delicate. But there was something firm there, too. Nowhere in society has he seen anyone like her. She was rapt, sensuous, beautiful.”

“He was a large, meaty, oily type of man—a kind of ambling, gelatinous formula of the male, with the usual sound commercial instincts of the Jew, but with an errant philosophy which led him to believe first one thing and then another so long as neither interfered definitely with his business.”

“Even at seventeen she stood up and out with an inexplicable superiority which brought her the feverish and exotic attention of lesser personalities whose emotional animality found an outlet in swinging a censer at her shrine […] she was deeply conscious of herself, her sex, her significance, her possible social import. Armed with a fair skin, a few freckles, an almost too high color at times, strange, deep, night-blue, cat-like eyes, a long nose, a rather pleasant mouth, perfect teeth, and a really good chin, she moved always with a feline grace that was careless, superior, sinuous, and yet the acme of harmony and a rhythmic flow of lines.”

Dreiser presents us with one of the best examples of omniscient narration in literature. There is no internal monologue, no stream of consciousness. Thoughts, events, and feelings are described by an all-seeing eye. While it is undoubtably captivating to observe Cowperwood’s exciting life and increasingly more daring endeavors, at times I felt that the protagonist was shallow in a philosophical sense. His reflections on life are facile and his only spiritual belief seems to be in the romantic impetus that drives one person into the embrace of another. Then again, if naturalism is the guiding principle, it is not the author’s task to infuse a character with excessive philosophizing if the character himself is not disposed to any such ideas.