This is an early entry in a genre that has been thoroughly exhausted by works like American Beauty, Norman Mailer's An American Dream, and Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho. Middle-aged realtor and pillar of the community, George Babbitt, is on the rise. He says all the appropriate things to all the right people and would never dare to take a crap in the rose bushes. Babbitt is a man defined by his strict conformity to social conventions, which is as dull as it sounds. Then his friend shoots his wife (his friend's wife, not Babbitt's), and Babbitt's moral center becomes askew. However, instead of doing interesting things, like Bateman feeding a cat to an ATM in Psycho, he simply gets drunk and flirts with his neighbor's wives. It's all so very trite and uninteresting.
Lewis doesn't do any favors with his plodding writing style and his compulsion to have his characters deliver multi-paragraph rants about NOTHING! I had no interest in the reproductions of newspaper ads, nor did I care for the pages-long sermons from the local preacher or the equally long sermons from the new age nutjob. I just didn't care.