As much praise as this book gets I must say I was extremely disappointed in how bogged down in the 1910-1950 period it is in terms of evaluating Chicago. Beyond that, it only really elucidates the grievances of the Debs faction of striking industrial workers. The plight of blacks in the city gets mentioned but not with the repetitive prominence. Even if it had, this would still be an odd and ultimately pretentious effort to get at what Chicago is, was, and could be. Fortunately can be read quickly and almost as quickly forgotten. ( )

Published in 1951 this is a prose poem of 12000 words taking the city of Chicago as its subject. A city where the dollar has always been king and Algren's portrait of his hometown did not go down well with critics and editors. Times have changed and the initial scorn for the essay has now turned to something like admiration. Algren who grew up in a working class area of the city has an eye for the piquant: he tells of the colourful characters of its early history, the more notorious the better, he admires the energy, but decries the lack of humanity and culture. In his view Chicago is a city that seems to have gone backwards.

Chicago has progressed culturally from being the second city to being the second hand city

This is not the story of a city, you will not learn much of its history; it is a gaze and insiders gaze on what made the city that you would have found in 1951. Images and events run pell mell through its paragraphs, we learn of some infamous politicians, social climbers, hustlers of course, jazz musicians and baseball personalities, Hinky Dink Kempa and Bath House John from the early days and the working people of the city. It is best explained in Algrens own words:

'As well as the old soaks goats parts, backstreet brothels, unlit alleys and basement bars; for tavern traps and tenements, for all the pool room tigers in chequered caps, who've never seen a cow, and all the night club kittens who've never seen a cloud
For white lit show ups, dim lit lock ups, and the half lit hallway bedrooms, where the air along with the bed is stirred only by the passing of the Jackson Park express. For all our white walled asylums and all our dark walled courtrooms, overheated district stations, and disinfected charity wards, where the sunlight is always soiled and there are no holiday hours.
For hospitals, brothels prisons and such hells, where patronage comes up softly like a flower
For all the collerless wanderers of the horse and wagon alleys of home.

This sort of writing reminds me of the beat poets; Ginsburg Ferlinghetti perhaps. It is a roller coaster from start to finish;

Chicago isn't so much a city as it is a drafty hustlers junction in which to hustle awhile and move on out of the draft.

But Algren still claims to love his hometown, he certainly loves the White Socks baseball team, even though they were accused of accepting bribes to throw a world series, just par for the course in this city. but he say that once you become a part of this patch you will never love another.

I read the 1961 reprint in which Algren adds a long after word. He feels a need to make clear his views on racism and sexism in the city and also reflect a little on his essay that had upset so many important people in his hometown. It is certainly not a flattering portrait, but it is so full of life and energy that it almost tumbles off the pages. I thought it was excellent, but then I have never been to Chicago. 4 stars. ( )

My intolerance for prose poems is only matched by my intolerance of streetwise lingo over a half a century old. Despite these personal obstacles, Algren gains my respect and nails Chicago in ’51 when he depicted the city as a crooked, tough but beautiful town: “Like loving a woman with a broken nose, you may well find lovelier lovelies. But never one so real.” Beware of the introductions and afterward in the 60th anniversary edition—they’re almost as long as the book itself. I usually take that as a sign to run, but not in this case. The notes section at the end provides illumination to many of Algren’s references (Swede Risberg, anybody?) and was a lot of fun. My favorite one: Cubs, defined as “Perennial and Proverbial losers”. ( )