Twelve Men by Theodore Dreiser Peter In any group of men I have ever known, speaking from the point of view of character and not that of physical appearance, Peter would stand out as deliciously and irrefutably different. In the great waste of American intellectual dreariness he was an oasis, a veritable spring in the desert. He understood life. He knew men. He was free-spiritually, morally, in a thousand ways, it seemed to me. As one drags along through this inexplicable existence one realizes how such qualities stand out; ...
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Twelve Men by Theodore Dreiser Peter In any group of men I have ever known, speaking from the point of view of character and not that of physical appearance, Peter would stand out as deliciously and irrefutably different. In the great waste of American intellectual dreariness he was an oasis, a veritable spring in the desert. He understood life. He knew men. He was free-spiritually, morally, in a thousand ways, it seemed to me. As one drags along through this inexplicable existence one realizes how such qualities stand out; not the pseudo freedom of strong men, financially or physically, but the real, internal, spiritual freedom, where the mind, as it were, stands up and looks at itself, faces Nature unafraid, is aware of its own weaknesses, its strengths; examines its own and the creative impulses of the universe and of men with a kindly and non-dogmatic eye, in fact kicks dogma out of doors, and yet deliberately and of choice holds fast to many, many simple and human things, and rounds out life, or would, in a natural, normal, courageous, healthy way. The first time I ever saw Peter was in St. Louis in 1892; I had come down from Chicago to work on the St. Louis Globe-Democrat, and he was a part of the art department force of that paper. At that time-and he never seemed to change later even so much as a hair's worth until he died in 1908-he was short, stocky and yet quick and even jerky in his manner, with a bushy, tramp-like "get-up" of hair and beard, most swiftly and astonishingly disposed of at times only to be regrown at others, and always, and intentionally, I am sure, most amusing to contemplate. In addition to all this he had an air of well-being, force and alertness which belied the other surface characteristics as anything more than a genial pose or bit of idle gayety. We are delighted to publish this classic book as part of our extensive Classic Library collection. Many of the books in our collection have been out of print for decades, and therefore have not been accessible to the general public. The aim of our publishing program is to facilitate rapid access to this vast reservoir of literature, and our view is that this is a significant literary work, which deserves to be brought back into print after many decades. The contents of the vast majority of titles in the Classic Library have been scanned from the original works. To ensure a high quality product, each title has been meticulously hand curated by our staff. Our philosophy has been guided by a desire to provide the reader with a book that is as close as possible to ownership of the original work. We hope that you will enjoy this wonderful classic work, and that for you it becomes an enriching experience.
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Seller's Description:
Good plus or better, light general wear. Corners bumped and worn to boards, spine sunned. Pages browned, int hinges splitting at endpapers. Prev owner's name on front fly.
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Seller's Description:
Very Good+ No Dustjacket. Book New York: Modern Library, 1928. Stated First Modern Library Edition. Very Good+/No Dust jacket. Modern Library no. 148.1, "First Modern Library Edition, 1928" on copyright page. Clean brown leatherette, Toledano binding no. 4. Light surface wear to corners, no fraying. Binding is tight and square, no cracking; pages and edges are clean with clean Bernhard endpapers; no names, writing or marks. Introduction by Robert Ballou. 360 pp.