It's been a long time since I read Mark Schorer's then-definitive biography of Sinclair Lewis, so it's difficult to compare the merits of this exhaustive work with Schorer's. Schorer had the advantage of more immediate sources; Lingeman was at a comparative disadvantage, writing this some 50 years after Lewis' death. But I did learn some things here that I don't think were in the earlier book, and it is undeniably well-written, comprehensive and tinged with interest by Lingeman's willingness to offer his personal evaluations of Lewis' life and work. That said, the book reinforces my view of Sinclair Lewis; that America's first winner of the Nobel Prize for literature was at heart a complex and miserable mess of a human being. Far from a great writer, at his peak he was a consummate observer of American society, and perceptive and courageous enough to hold a revealing mirror up to it. His output of the 1920's was nearly unmatched in literary influence, and "Dodsworth" remains one of my favorite novels. But he was a terribly conflicted and insecure man, by turns generous and loyal, and self-obsessed and unpredictably cruel. I have no doubt that I would find him repellent if I knew him, but the man fascinates me, and it was particularly interesting to me to have read this biography shortly after visiting Lewis' hometown of Sauk Centre and touring his home, museum and gravesite. ( )