Drouet's entrance into the action of the novel is marked with striking visual details. The sensory language of ostentation and excess reflect the fact that he’s trying too hard to fit in:
His fingers bore several rings—one, the ever-enduring heavy seal—and from his vest dangled a neat gold watch chain, from which was suspended the secret insignia of the Order of Elks. The whole suit was rather tight-fitting, and was finished off with heavy-soled tan shoes, highly polished, and the grey fedora hat. He was, for the order of intellect represented, attractive, and whatever he had to recommend him, you may be sure was not lost upon Carrie, in this, her first glance.
The detailed visual imagery of this passage paints Drouet as someone who wants to exhibit money and opulence. From this first appearance, the young man is swathed in symbols of ostentatious wealth: "His fingers bore several rings—one, the ever-enduring heavy seal—and from his vest dangled a neat gold watch chain." The explicit detailing of his attire highlights his burning desire to exhibit his affluence to the world. He is desperate for people to see him as wealthy and successful, so he covers himself with what he sees as indicators of wealth and success.
The description of Drouet's outfit as "rather tight-fitting" subtly communicates his sense of discomfort and desire to belong. Like his suit, his hard-won and newly-acquired societal role doesn't fit him perfectly. It's almost as if Drouet is trying to squeeze himself into his version of what prosperity should look like. His "heavy-soled tan shoes, highly polished," further illuminate this idea. While they—like his jewelry—reflect some refinement, the emphasis on their shine suggests that their elegance is surface-level.
Dreiser's commentary here isn't just about Drouet as an individual. It serves as a broader critique of the aspirational middle class of the era. People like Drouet were eager to climb the social ladder at any cost. However, their showy dress had a tendency to mark them clearly as outsiders from the social class they wanted to infiltrate. The narrator observes that "whatever he had to recommend him, you may be sure was not lost upon Carrie, in this, her first glance." This comment references the superficial qualities of both Drouet's appearance and Carrie’s social skills. While someone who came from money might quickly spot that Drouet was all show, flashy nouveau-riche displays of wealth hold a lot of allure for young innocents like Carrie.
Carrie’s initial experiences in Chicago are marked by the presence of new, appealing sounds. Dreiser fills these early passages with auditory imagery that brings her first impressions to life:
To Carrie, the sound of the little bells upon the horse-cars, as they tinkled in and out of hearing, was as pleasing as it was novel. She gazed into the lighted street when Minnie brought her into the front room, and wondered at the sounds, the movement, the murmur of the vast city which stretched for miles and miles in every direction.
The sensory language in this passage is romantic and evocative. The "tinkling" of the horse-car bells introduces Carrie (and the reader) to a pleasant aspect of the lively, bustling soundscape of the city. While she stays with Minnie and her husband, Carrie likes to stand in the door-frame and look out into the Chicago night. The auditory language makes the “lighted street” seem welcoming rather than threatening.
This experience contrasts sharply with what Carrie might have been familiar with, presenting the "vast city" as a realm of endless possibilities. However, the vastness and continuous "murmur" of the city, which stretches for “miles and miles” also subtly introduces an underlying sense of overwhelming size. While the novelty of the horse-bells is pleasant, it’s quickly subsumed by the overwhelming, ever-present hum of industry in her new home.
As Carrie acclimates to her new environment after arriving in Chicago, the sounds of the city surround her. The narrator uses auditory imagery and hyperbole to convey the intensity of these early impressions:
The sound of the hammer engaged upon the erection of new structures was everywhere heard.
The auditory imagery in this passage vividly encapsulates the bustling, noisy atmosphere of Chicago during the time. The city was industrializing at an extremely rapid rate. It was pulling in workers from all over the world and quickly becoming one of the biggest centers of production in the United States. The "sound of the hammer" paints a sonic picture of this vibrant, developing atmosphere. The town is alive with activity and is incessantly expanding. This noise of “the hammer” doesn’t refer to one specific tool, but to the concept of all the hammering and construction that surrounds Carrie in her new home.
The phrase "was everywhere heard" is a hyperbole that helps build this soundscape. While it might not be literally true that the hammering was heard everywhere, this exaggeration emphasizes the ubiquity of construction and industry in Chicago at the time. Through this hyperbole, the reader is drawn into the scene of a city in the throes of rapid growth. It also emphasizes Carrie’s innocence and confusion. She’s only recently arrived from her much smaller and more rural hometown. When she walks around Chicago, the ever-present sounds of hammer strikes accompany her attempts to find her own path amidst the cacophony.
As he stands at the edge of an upscale gathering, the narrative depicts Hurstwood as a man of luxury and ease. He does so using rich, opulent visual imagery and a metaphor referring to the other party-goers as moths:
Hurstwood was standing, his coat open, his thumbs in his pockets, the light on his jewels and rings relieving them with agreeable distinctness. He was the picture of fastidious comfort. To one not inclined to drink, and gifted with a more serious turn of mind, such a bubbling, chattering, glittering chamber must ever seem an anomaly, a strange commentary on nature and life. Here come the moths, in endless procession, to bask in the light of the flame. Such conversation as one may hear would not warrant a commendation of the scene upon intellectual grounds.
The visual imagery of this passage paints Hurstwood as a refined, sophisticated figure. The reader is told that he’s a “serious” person, who is more inclined to observe than to drink and party. The light reflecting off his polished jewelry underscores his wealth, and his entire appearance gives an impression of careful curation and “fastidious comfort.” He’s one of the only still points in the surrounding "bubbling, chattering, glittering chamber,” which contributes to the impression that he doesn’t see himself as entirely a part of it.
The metaphor comparing the other people in the room individuals to "moths" drawn to a flame also gestures to his separation from the crowd. He sees the people around him as “moths” who are drawn in by the light and warmth of the party to “bask.” This gives the reader insight into Hurstwood’s own slightly pompous view of gatherings like this, where he believes that anyone looking for “intellectual” company would be poorly served.
When Carrie takes a drive on the North Shore with Mrs. Hale, the narrator uses intense visual and tactile imagery to bring to life the beauty of the scenery around her:
There was a softness in the air which speaks with an infinite delicacy of feeling to the flesh as well as to the soul. Carrie felt that it was a lovely day. She was ripened by it in spirit for many suggestions. As they drove along the smooth pavement an occasional carriage passed. She saw one stop and the footman dismount, opening the door for a gentleman who seemed to be leisurely returning from some afternoon pleasure. Across the broad lawns, now first freshening into green, she saw lamps faintly glowing upon rich interiors. Now it was but a chair, now a table, now an ornate corner, which met her eye, but it appealed to her as almost nothing else could.
This passage is awash with both visual and tactile imagery, immersing the reader in Carrie's experience as she is enchanted by the vistas of comfort and opulence around her. The "softness in the air" evokes a sensation of coolness and gentleness, making the reader feel the calming atmosphere of the day. It’s very enveloping and comforting, invoking a “delicacy of feeling as well as flesh.” This sensation is juxtaposed with the luxurious visual stimuli of the carriages, the footman, and the rich interiors that surround her. Everything is welcoming, pliant, and nourishing, making Carrie feel “ripened” and happy.
These vivid descriptions paint a picture for the reader of the possibilities of the “rich interiors” that Carrie is surrounded with. However, they also to offer a glimpse into Carrie's psyche. The luxury she observes—the bustling carriages, the leisurely gentleman, the ornate furniture—all these elements fuel her dreams and aspirations. The tactile imagery of the “soft air” and “freshening green” lawns connects the external world with her internal emotional state. She feels that the comfort and fertility around her is there for her benefit, adding to her sense of hopefulness and belonging. Of course, she’s merely a visitor to this world, but the imagery reinforces Sister Carrie’s theme of tension between the reality of working-class life and the distant dream of wealth. The richness of the visual and tactile details in this passage mirrors Carrie's growing desires to “ripen” in environments as appealing and luscious as the North Shore.
Hurstwood, burdened by personal challenges, lets alcohol blur his judgment, leading him towards precarious decisions. As he moves through this haze, Dreiser depicts the effects of alcohol on him through metaphor and tactile imagery:
The manager was no fool to be led blindly away by such an errant proposition as this, but his situation was peculiar. Wine was in his veins. It had crept up into his head and given him a warm view of the situation. It also coloured the possibilities of ten thousand for him. He could see great opportunities with that. He could get Carrie.
The metaphor of wine "in his veins" goes beyond mere intoxication. The wine is running through Hurstwood's body, almost as if it is replacing his other vital fluids. This metaphor emphasizes the profound impact drinking has on his psyche, coloring his judgment and risk assessment. By likening the wine's influence to blood in the bloodstream, the narrative underscores its inescapable and dominant role in shaping his decisions.
The tactile imagery of the wine’s “warmth” communicates the fact that it relaxes Hurstwood and gives him a more optimistic view of his prospects. The wine, having “crept up into his head” makes him feel brave and act rashly. The extent of its reach further amplifies its power over him, suggesting that it provides Hurstwood with a sense of surety that his environment doesn't actually have. It falsely boosts his confidence, making him feel like the $10,000 he plans to steal is an opportunity well within his reach.
In this passage, Dreiser uses visual imagery to present Hurstwood in a weakened and deteriorated state. The prose here depicts Carrie as observant and distant in her response to his plight:
That night he felt a cold coming on and took quinine. He was feverish until morning, and sat about the next day while Carrie waited on him. He was a helpless creature in sickness, not very handsome in a dull-coloured bath gown and his hair uncombed. He looked haggard about the eyes and quite old. Carrie noticed this, and it did not appeal to her. She wanted to be good-natured and sympathetic, but something about the man held her aloof
The imagery in this passage paints a vivid scene of Hurstwood's decline. His "dull-coloured bath gown" and "uncombed" hair are in tangible opposition to the way he was previously depicted. Prior descriptions of Hurstwood made him seem a suave and sophisticated figure who knew how to dress and how to present himself as an attractive social prospect. Dreiser's attention to these minute details provides readers with a visual representation of this character's physical and emotional deterioration.
Additionally, Dreiser’s portrayal of Carrie's reactions offers insight into their dynamic. As Hurstwood appears more vulnerable, “haggard and quite old,” her detachment to him grows. The fact that he doesn’t “appeal” to her in this state highlights a profound change in their relationship. Rather than wanting to draw closer to him, she is “held aloof” by his visible deterioration.
