Of all modern novelists Theodore Dreiser most entirely catches the spirit of America.  Here is the huge torrential stream of material energies.  Here are the men and women, so pushed and driven and parched and bleached, by the enormous forces of industry and commerce, that all distinction in them seems to be reduced to a strange colorlessness; while the primordial animal cravings, greedy, earth-born, fumble after their aims across the sad and littered stage of sombre scenery.

There is something epic—­something enormous and amorphous—­like the body of an elemental giant—­about each of these books.  In the “Titan,” especially, the peculiar power of Dreiser’s massive, coulter-like impetus is evident.  Here we realize how, between animal passion and material ambition, there is little room left in such a nature as Cooperwood’s for any complicated subtlety.  All is simple, direct, hard and healthy—­a very epitome and incarnation of the life-force, as it manifests itself in America.

27.  CERVANTES.  DON QUIXOTE. In any translation except those vulgarized by eighteenth century taste.

Cervantes’ great, ironical, romantic story is written in a style so noble, so nervous, so humane, so branded with reality, that, as the wise critic has said, the mere touch and impact of it puts courage into our veins.  It is not necessary to read every word of this old book.  There are tedious passages.  But not to have ever opened it; not to have caught the tone, the temper, the terrible courage, the infinite sadness of it, is to have missed being present at one of the “great gestures” of the undying, unconquerable spirit of humanity.

28.  VICTOR HUGO.  THE TOILERS OF THE SEA. In any translation.

Victor Hugo is the greatest of all incorrigible romanticists.  Something between a prophet, a charlatan, a rhetorician, and a spoiled child, he believes in God, in democracy, in innocence, in justice, and he has a noble and unqualified devotion to human heroism and the depths of the dangerous sea.  He has that arbitrary, maniacal inventive imagination which is very rare except in children—­and in spite of his theatrical gestures he has the power of conjuring up scenes of incredible beauty and terror.

29.  BALZAC.  LOST ILLUSIONS.  COUSIN BETTE.  PERE GORIOT.  HUMAN COMEDY, in any translation.  Saintsbury’s is as good as any.

Balzac’s books create a complete world, which has many points of contact with reality; but, in a deep essential sense, is the projection of the novelist’s own passionate imagination.  A thundering tide of subterranean energy, furious and titanic, sweeps, with its weight of ponderous details, through every page of these dramatic volumes.  Every character has its obsession, its secret vice, its spiritual drug.  Even when, as in the case of Vautrin, he lets his demonic fancy carry him very far, there is a grandeur, an amplitude, a smouldering flame of passion, which redeem a thousand preposterous extravagances.