
For a long time I felt a certain weird resentment for Jonathan Franzan, and I was annoyed at how often his book Freedom was talked about when it first came out. It seemed like it was everywhere! On the radio, in my email, Amazon’s homepage, newspapers, front tables at the bookstore (used and new!). How can a book really be this good, to generate this much attention?? I thought. Of course I understand that the publishing industry is all connected, and when a book is talked about in one place it’s purposely being talked about in a lot of other places too. I didnt think this was all a coincidence. This was a popular writer, who had written anything in a while. People would talk. It may have been my secret Naropa heart, the heart that sides with the literary underdog, that kept me from ever reading any Franzen.
However. I started to think that I was being weird and silly, to dislike an author I had never read. (Also, I think I had been confusing him with a couple other writers as well. Jonathan Letham was one, and also for some reason I thought Franzen was a political journalist. Not sure why…). So I found his older novel, from 10 years ago, at the used book shop, and decided to give it a go. I devoured its 600 pages in a week. Then I thought, well no way can Freedom be this good. So I put off reading that too.
Now, I’ve read a lot of Freedom’s negative reviews (because I’m perverse, and like to see why other people dont like the things that I do like), and in many ways I understand where those reviews are coming from. My friend didnt like it because she felt it was slow moving, that nothing was really happening, and it became tedious. I didnt feel that way. I was drawn in right away, and I think that what I like most about both of these books (and they have extremely similar structures) is the way, at the end, you leave with a complete and full picture, from nearly every vantage point, of a whole family. I love that the books switch points of view and that you come to understand and see the motivations of almost every character. It makes the misunderstandings between them that much more interesting, because you can understand why they react the way they do, but you can also understand that they are misreading a situation. In real life, people misunderstand each other all the time (maybe even constantly), and this book gives you both sides of each equation.
I also judge books on how many times a sentence or idea really makes me stop to think, or stands out as being an absolutely clear and perfect way of presenting a point. Most books don’t do this at all, some do it once or twice. And although the book may have many pretty unlikable characters, and maybe it moves slowly at times, it also has many moments that go beyond the story, and suggest important ideas about the world, or especially (now that I look back at my notes) about the notion of reality. A few examples:
“Patty believed that parents have a duty to teach their children how to recognize reality when they see it.”
“He nodded and ate, and it occurred to her that she was a person who dwelt in fantasies with essentially no relation to reality.”
And, on the theme of people’s misunderstandings of each other (here, a mother and son): the mother mentions a sensitive topic to the son, but not directly. “And she knew better than to stab an existing wound twice, but either she was the world’s most expert implier, or Joey was the world’s most sensitive inferrer.” I’m sure it is my own sensitivities resonating with this particular line, but it seems so true, and how many problems does this not knowing cause…
I also enjoyed the section that explores the ideas of the power of words themselves, suggesting, I felt, that words make reality, that if things are not spoken, then they are not (as?) true. This idea is also echoed in the book, as part of it consists of the main character’s “autobiography,” which she writes for therapeutic reasons, then shares with the man she cheats on her husband with, who then shows it to the husband. It sets everything in motion, even though all the problems existed before the book was revealed, it made them too real to ignore. Same when the son and his girlfriend begin to have phone sex while away from each other at college. What began as an effort to distance himself from his girlfriend by only talking about sex, Joey actually becomes more entwined with her:
“He realized it [phone sex] was making their contact all the deeper to hear Connie finally naming all the things they’d done and the things she imagined them doing in the future. This deepening was somewhat strange, since all they were doing was getting each other off. But in hindsight it seemed to him as if, in St. Paul, Connie’s silence had formed a kind of protective barrierL had given their couplings what politicians called deniability. To discover, now, that sex had been registering in her as language [love that line]–as words that she could speak out loud– made her that much realer to him as a person… Words made everything less safe, words had no limits, words made their own world.”
And I love when books do this. When they tell a story and at the same time talk about much, much bigger ideas. The story doesnt suffer, it doesnt seem to have a hidden agenda, but it points to the ways that even the normal things we do in our everyday lives do have bigger implications, and can be more important that what is suggested just at first glance. I love when books remind me of the possible depths of the world, by making their own world deep, working with many layers at once.
So, I guess Franzen doesnt really need another good review at this point, and maybe everyone is as sick of hearing about him as I was, but I was glad I gave him a chance, and I liked the time I spent in this fully realized world he created in Freedom.
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