“The slicker” symbolizes conformity to the new dominant model of masculinity that characterizes the generation depicted in This Side of Paradise. Amory creates the concept of “the slicker” with his friend Rahill in their final year at St. Regis. A slicker is a person who is identifiable by his slicked-back hair and “clever sense of social values.” He also “dresses well,” pretending “that dress is superficial—but know[ing] that it isn’t,” and he does everything he can to project an outward appearance of success. The novel contrasts the slicker with “the big man,” an antiquated model of upper-class masculinity. Unlike the slicker, the big man is not aware of social values and does not care about his appearance. He is also unsuccessful in life and feels nostalgia for his prep school days.
In many ways, the slicker resonates with the idea of being “conventional,” or maintaining the status quo. For example, Amory tells Beatrice that Minneapolis has made him “conventional,” and Tom blames Amory for making him “conventional” at Princeton. Slickers are conventional in that they conform to the customs of society increasingly defined by new class relations and gender roles. Amory, who is middle class, mixes with upper-class students at St. Regis and Princeton, but by their shared educational experience they become part of the same class and are subject to the same customs of masculinity. “The slicker,” therefore, like Amory in certain periods, is a man in this time of change who knows how to mold himself to society and maintain, or improve, his class status: he acts according to social customs, he cares about how others perceive him, and he attempts to get ahead.
The Slicker Quotes in This Side of Paradise
Amory’s secret ideal had all the slicker qualifications, but, in addition, courage and tremendous brains and talents—also Amory conceded him a bizarre streak that was quite irreconcilable to the slicker proper.
“Oh, it isn’t that I mind the glittering caste system,” admitted Amory. “I like having a bunch of hot cats on top, but gosh, Kerry, I’ve got to be one of them.”
“But just now, Amory, you’re only a sweaty bourgeois.”
Amory lay for a moment without speaking.
“I won’t be—long,” he said finally. “But I hate to get anywhere by working for it. I’ll show the marks, don’t you know.”
“No,” declared Tom emphatically, a new Tom, clothed by Brooks, shod by Franks, “I’ve won this game, but I feel as if I never want to play another. You’re all right—you’re a rubber ball, and somehow it suits you, but I’m sick of adapting myself to the local snobbishness of this corner of the world. I want to go where people aren’t barred because of the color of their neckties and the roll of their coats.”
The intense power Amory felt later in Burne Holiday differed from the admiration he had had for Humbird[…]. Amory was struck by Burne’s intense earnestness[…]. Burne stood vaguely for a land Amory hoped he was drifting toward—and it was almost time that land was in sight.