Did literature warn us about Donald Trump? Anti-American themes in U.S. novels

Did American literature anticipate the anti-democratic turmoil associated with Donald Trump? Has it ever revealed the darker side of the so-called “American Dream?” What can literature warn us about, and is it capable of stopping the degradation of society? Let’s look at why American literature is often, in its essence, “anti-American,” and which social failures it has predicted.

Compared to the literary traditions of Europe and Asia, American literature lacks a centuries-old heritage, having begun to take shape in the late 18th century and truly emerging as a distinct artistic entity in the early 19th century. From its inception, it struggled with the challenge of authentically portraying its society. In 1868, John William De Forest, a Civil War veteran and writer, attempted to define which genre was most necessary for the United States, calling it the “Great American Novel.”

De Forest, aware that his national literature still lacked artists of the caliber of William Thackeray, Anthony Trollope, Honoré de Balzac, and Victor Hugo, called on authors to bring a national vision, truthfully drawn characters, natural language, and strong emotions to the American novel.

In his opinion, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” (1852) by Harriet Beecher Stowe was the closest to this literary ideal, despite all shortcomings. The book tells a story of the struggles of an enslaved black man with a noble character. It is important to note that all great American novels are, in fact, simultaneously anti-American because they actively speak, even if indirectly, about the distinction between the people, their government, and those who might run the government at any given time.

In this way, Stowe, understandably, advocated for the abolition of slavery, helped shape the perspectives of her fellow Americans, an influence that became especially apparent during the Civil War. At the time, the nation was divided between North and South, largely over the issue of slavery. By highlighting the injustices of slavery in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” Stowe not only condemned a fundamental aspect of American society but, on a metaphorical level, challenged the unity of America itself.

The defeated South later developed its own aesthetic, known as “Southern Gothic.” In this style, territorial rootedness and existential defeat are key, a kind of inherited experience of political loss that manifests in the psychological state of the characters. This is evident in the works of Carson McCullers, Eudora Welty, William Faulkner, Flannery O’Connor, and the early works by Cormac McCarthy.

It is within the Great American Novel — with its emphasis on psychological complexity and grand scale — that the darker aspects of American society are most clearly revealed, traits that can now be seen as the basis of the absurdities in contemporary U.S. politics. In “The Last of the Mohicans” by James Fenimore Cooper, which romanticized the dangers and allure of the frontier, the issue of the survival of Native Americans is brought into sharp focus, emphasizing the divide between “us” and “them.”

“The Scarlet Letter” by Nathaniel Hawthorne brought into sharp relief the moral contradictions that ran through American society even during its early colonial period. Mark Twain’s “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” with pointed portrayals of various figures representing the national character, continues to spark controversy among those who view it as either an inaccurate representation of African Americans or as containing inappropriate language. At the same time, one of the best American novels of 2024, “James” by Percival Everett, reinterprets the character of Jim from Twain’s work.

n the 20th century, the trend of exposing the flaws of the American system intensified. It is no coincidence that “Infinite Jest” (1996) by David Foster Wallace and “Underworld” (1997) by Don DeLillo are frequently seen as the century’s ultimate expression. Wallace wrote his novel to show what it was like to live in America at the end of the century (and the answer to that question was: despite the multitude of entertainments, it was very sad and even deadly), while DeLillo attempted to uniquely reconstruct the history of the second half of the 20th century. DeLillo chooses certain themes to explore American society: baseball, garbage, stand-up comedy shows, Catholicism, outsiders, and the atomic bomb. These themes serve as lenses through which he draws broad conclusions about the mistakes humanity, and the U.S. in particular, have made. In the end, everything can be reduced to politics, because it’s undeniable that literature is inherently political, particularly when it deliberately overlooks that fact.

RELATED: In the U.S., a Welsh graphic novelist detained at the Canadian border as an “Undocumented Migrant”

An important idea, which arose not only in the mind of a single writer and became clearly defined, particularly in 20th-century American literature, is the idea of homeland. It is often simplistically said about the U.S. that it is a nation of immigrants, which is why the current anti-immigration policy of Trump is, in essence, anti-American, but the issue lies elsewhere.

The issue lies in why literature and politics, during complex historical moments, often begin to manipulate the concept of homeland, substituting it for the notions of nation and state.

The phrases “Defend your government” and “Defend your homeland” sound different and are different in meaning, and this manipulation is always accompanied by discussions about patriotism. In my opinion, this theme serves as a leitmotif in the works of Ernest Hemingway, though it sometimes appears more subtly in the background. American literature, in general, often shifts from satirical exposure of human flaws to sarcastic mockery of government failures, yet this has not shielded American democracy from political instability.

One of the significant themes in 20th-century American literature was the fear of Nazism/fascism. Nobel laureate Sinclair Lewis was perhaps the first to depict it in his novel “It Can’t Happen Here” (1935), writing about the rise of the populist politician Windrip, whose mind becomes clouded by absolute power, and he begins to emulate the Führer. A specific variation of this theme is found in “All the King’s Men” (1946) by Robert Penn Warren, a story about a possible alternative to the irresponsible leaders of the nation, which ultimately shows that in the American context, no alternatives can exist, because the world expects the U.S. to be a model to follow. In 1962, Philip K. Dick released “The Man in the High Castle,” a science fiction novel, set in an alternate reality where Nazi Germany emerges victorious in World War II and starts to rule America. In 2004, Philip Roth published “The Plot Against America,” imagining a scenario where the U.S. President Charles Lindbergh, the famous aviator, promotes anti-Semitic rhetoric and establishes a pro-fascist government.

What unites these works is primarily the figure of the populist who rises to power and begins to emulate the worst global regimes. When Trump first became the president in 2017, nearly every literary scholar — except the laziest — pointed to “The Dead Zone” by Stephen King (1979), in which the populist Gregory Stillson ascends to power and threatens to trigger World War III. At the time, this comparison was met with a mix of surprise and admiration for King’s prescience. By 2025, with Trump’s return, that once-literary parallel has taken on a far more troubling resonance. The difference is that while “The Dead Zone” had Johnny Smith to intervene, despite the personal cost, in reality, the role of the would-be savior has unexpectedly fallen to the presidential candidate himself.

Another significant event that triggered a series of processes in culture occurred on Nov. 22, 1963. The assassination of President John F. Kennedy triggered a wave of paranoia and a significant erosion of public trust in the government, which many suspected of involvement in the conspiracy. This fueled the rise of conspiracy theories that further blurred the already tenuous boundaries of truth. In today’s context, this distortion is embodied by a platform named “Truth Social,” where outright falsehoods can be posted without irony because the very notion of “truth” has been devalued and few notice, or care, about the difference. Furthermore, after 1963, it seemed as if American intelligence agencies were given carte blanche, and they began to act as a separate player on the political field: DeLillo’s “Libra” (1988), King’s “11/22/1963” (2011), among others.

I think it’s crucial not to overlook the fact that our current disillusionment with the U.S. is tied to our previous enchantment with the country and its “American dream” and “democracy.” This situation reminds me of John Barth’s novel “The Sot-Weed Factor” (1960), telling the story of poet Ebenezer Cooke, who is considered the author of the first American satire (1708). This character viewed America as a dreamland, almost a promised land, only to encounter deceitful courtesans, brutal plantation owners, and unjust judges. Our image of the U.S. has been shaped by beautiful works of art and multimillion-dollar films, yet we remain largely unfamiliar with the real America.

The real America elected Trump, who is now curbing democratic freedoms and reshaping the nation in his own image. American literature has issued repeated warnings about such figures, but — as often is the case — its voice has had little effect on present realities. Reading literature demands not just time and effort, but also the ability to interpret it correctly, to sense its prophetic undertones, and to hear its quiet warning against reckless choices. American literature has repeatedly warned of such figures, but as always, literature has little impact on the current state of affairs because, in addition to the effort required to read it, one must also understand it correctly, feel its predictive power, and hear its faint voice warning of the risks of thoughtless choices.

It seems that the entertainment function of literature has long overshadowed all other aspects, and most people can’t see anything else in it. This entertainment, as in Wallace’s novel, exists in the form of endless pleasure and satisfaction, which gradually and imperceptibly “kills” us. Artistic creativity has long spoken about our flaws, but few want to see a mirror of themselves in the text.

RELATED: King, Jergović, Snyder among international authors donating to Ukraine

In this sense, American literature — often revealing itself to be anti-American in spirit — has long been preparing us for the chaos of the present day.

The revival of imperial ambitions under the banner of “Make America Great Again” signals not a return to a former glory, but the dismantling of the America that once was — a transformation we are witnessing. Had there been more attentive readers, perhaps this chaos could have been averted, and we might have found ourselves living in a different reality — perhaps even a ‘brave new world.’ While it’s not certain that it would have been better, it would certainly not be like what we have now, and it would definitely have been “wonderful.”

Translation: Iryna Savyuk

Copy editing: Ben Angel