American Strays

The artistic, literary treatment of working-class and poor characters is, by no means, something new to American literature. In fact, some of our greatest novels, plays, poems, and stories tackle the plight of the working class and poor, with no less canonical masterpieces than The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884) and Moby Dick (1851) as prominent examples of working-class literature in its broad scope. What is unusual in America’s rich literary history is a high-quality rendering of literature about the working class and poverty-stricken by writers who have actually lived through such experiences themselves. Middle and upper class writers are often enticed by and prompted to write about the struggles of the poor and working class, addressing their subjects from the lens of outside observer and treating these characters and settings as a sort of study or social experiment.

In contemporary America, however, writers with poor and working-class roots are taking on this task in relatively large numbers, and doing so boldly, skillfully, and memorably. The recent publication of Stray Dogs: Writing from the Other America (2014) showcases many of these writers and there are other similar writers out there contributing to this movement as well. Such like-minded writers have gained significant momentum lately, and we’re beginning to earn the attention of critics and a broader base of readers. A writer doesn’t necessarily have to come from working-class or poor backgrounds to write about the poor and working class, but accomplished writers who are able to effectively incorporate their own relevant experience into their work potentially offer another level of understanding, complexity and breathe new life into the larger scope of working-class/poor writing. With this movement in its current boom, we owe it to certain writers who have historically stood out as anomalies: predecessors from poor and working-class backgrounds who address the concerns of their class of origin honestly and accurately, rather than conforming to the establishment’s almost requisite sterilization of characters, style and settings. The best of the bunch shamelessly remove that comfortable distance from the truth that makes writing more “palatable” for the masses, the critics and squeamish readers of literature, and these literary innovators have encouraged us to do the same.

To better understand this recent trend in American working-class writing, an examination of two working-class literary figures, Jack London and the contemporary author, Paul Ruffin, might be the place to start. On the surface, it may seem that the two writers have little in common: London is associated with the Pacific coast, Alaska, and the Klondike, while most of Ruffin’s work is set in the south, primarily Mississippi and east Texas. However, beyond their obvious regional and temporal differences, the two actually share much more in common than one might expect. Both are accomplished essayists, poets, and novelists and both might be at their best with short fiction. They were also born into similarly humble backgrounds: Ruffin, in his own words, the “son of a toilet-seat-assembly-line worker,” and London, the son of a poor, unwed mother in the Bay area of California.

Although nearly a century separates the work of London and Ruffin, the two writers often appear to be kindred spirits, if not stylistically, at least in theme, sentiment and in their adept insiders’ treatment of the working class and poor characters in their work. Since London’s heyday, American literature has experienced the stylistic contributions of Hemingway, Faulkner, O’Connor, Caldwell and numerous other prominent twentieth century authors, so London’s and Ruffin’s respective prose styles are as distinct as a reader might expect, at least on the surface. However, London, although overtly political in most of his essays and a staunch, outspoken proponent of socialism, employs more subtle approaches to the plight of the poor and working class in his fiction. Similarly to Ruffin, he craftily exposes the American underbelly objectively, conveying the pitfalls of life in society, and ultimately calling on the reader to make any moral assessment. With London’s and Ruffin’s respective fiction, objectivity outweighs...