Skepticism + wit + intelligence = Mencken

An Infuriating American: The Incendiary Arts of H.L. Mencken by Hal Crowther (University of Iowa Press, $16).

Journalist H.L.Mencken was referred to as “the most hated man in America,” and, by most accounts, he wasn’t really a nice guy. Instead, he he was, though, was whip-smart, incisive, with a seemingly endless well of sarcasm, satire and irony. He practically invented snark.

And as if those weren’t gifts enough, he could write beautifully.

An Infuriating American, by journalist and columnist Hal Crowther, is a slender introduction to his style and work. While Crowther’s style is sometimes a bit slapdash, this book has a worthy mission—to put Mencken back into the American consciousness, even if he bugs us—and a very timely one. Mencken’s disdain for ignorance, particularly of the willful kind, is as necessary today as it was when he wrote his brilliant coverage of the Scopes “Monkey” Trial in 1925.

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A man for whom words were fired like bullets

Hal Crowther could easily have filled these 90 pages with a collection of peerless quotes that would have exposed the power of Mencken’s wordsmithing: “In this world of sin and sorrow there is always something to be thankful for; as for me, I rejoice that I am not a Republican.”

Instead, he has chosen to review Mencken’s life and try to explain his positions, political, racial and social. Fortunately, Crowther also exhibits the Mencken traits of plain talking, straight shooting, and no holds barred writing. This makes it a most engaging read, and all too brief.

I have a shelf of Mencken. It represents not even a sliver of his work. It is fascinating, inspiring, annoying and laughable. That Mencken can still produce such responses in me and millions of others, is reason and satisfaction enough.

For Hal Crowther, it is not. He wants to know what made Mencken tick, how he justified bizarre opinions that conflicted with his own actions, and what category to finally and definitively assign him. This is a purgatory mined by many over the decades. It leads nowhere.

Rather than put him under this microscope, I prefer the view from 50,000 feet. To me, it has long been clear that Mencken filled pages with vitriol simply to rile readers. To elicit a reaction, an emotion, a sign of life. He held contradictory positions, hypocritical positions, and outrageously nonsensical positions, because he loved to entertain. He became an editorial writer at the age of 19, and spent the rest of his life editorializing. It never meant he believed it or lived it.

Crowther passes this right by halfway through, calling Mencken “a born polemicist”. But then he returns to Mencken’s contradictions as if able to resolve them. That he was just as insulting to his friends as to scoundrels should not be in any way damaging to his reputation. His victims should wear it proudly, as the victims of caricaturists and political cartoonists proudly display originals of ugly and devastating artworks of themselves.

It is best to read Mencken for the pleasure of his artistry, not for any deep insight. Even Crowther admits “When I disagreed with him, it was still like listening to music. When I agreed with him, it was like electroshock therapy.”

The proof, if any more were needed, is that “Nearly everything he loathed and ridiculed about America survives him.” It’s still worth the read. ( )