From The Day of the Locust by Nathanael West (1939):
Across the top, parallel with the frame, he had drawn the burning city, a great bonfire of architectural styles, ranging from Egyptian to Cape Cod colonial. Through the center, winding from left to right, was a long hill street and down it, spilling into the middle foreground, came the mob carrying baseball bats and torches. For the faces of its members, he was using the innumerable sketches he had made of the people who come to California to die; the cultists of all sorts, economic as well as religious, the wave, airplane, funeral and preview watchers — all those poor devils who can only be stirred by the promise of miracles and then only to violence.
A cheery little number!
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Interesting painting given that it was just before WW1. After it would have been fairly common. West’s novel is also pretty prophetic. I keep coming back to those bitter Angelenos who have come to California to die.
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There are worse places, at least California is sunny.
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It’s very pretty. Only visited it once. And it’s a warm place to die . . .
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Homer Simpson must die!
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Donald Sutherland was the only Homer Simpson.
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