You’re going to get a lot of pushback on that. In my experience, whenever people talk about the/a “Great American Novel” or “American Literature” they mean the USA.
William March’s Company K (1933). Generally considered the best piece of American literature to arise from the Great War, consists of 113 vignettes from POV of 113 U.S. Marines — some horrific, some containing offbeat, black humor. Compare to Catch-22.
The Man with the Golden Arm (1949). Nobody reads Nelson Algren any more, I don’t know why. A compulsive piece of mid-century realism, set on seedy Division Street, Chicago. Frankie Machine is a hell of a guy.
Henry Kessring’s The Cook (1965). Short, darkly humorous novel culminating in horror. Shirley Jackson would have been proud to have written it.
Maybe I’m impatient, but I prefer novellas to novels. Here are some good ones: The Old Man and the Sea, by Ernest Hemingway Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck The Pearl, by John Steinbeck Call of the Wild, by Jack London Bartleby, the Scrivener, by Herman Melville
[del]The Quiet American, by Graham Greene[/del] . . Oops – Greene is English, not American Gone Fishin’, by Walter Mosley
William Gaddis, The Recognitions and A Frolic of His Own.
Michael Chabon, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay.
Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose
Russell Banks, Continental Drift