Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

I had little intention of reading Freedom by Jonathan Franzen, because I don’t think I’m interested in the life histories of despicable people.  (Except, I am.)  I have The Corrections, and know all the scandals that surround Franzen, but just was not interesting.  One thing changed that: NPR.  Right when Freedom came out, I was doing a lot of traveling and listening to NPR on the road.  The interview with Franzen was fascinating and I loved the excerpt he read.  I knew that as soon as I could get my hands on a copy I had to read it.

Now that I have read it, it absolutely lived up to my expectations.  I know that a lot of my appreciation has to do with the writing style; the particularly detailed, almost omniscient narrator is my favorite.  I found Franzen’s voice refreshing and his vision of the US life, though somewhat bleak, was so realistic that the characters could have been my neighbors.

Freedom is a family history of the fictional  Berglunds, from Patty and Walter’s childhoods to their lukewarm courtship and their mutual betrayals over time.  Patty, a college athlete turned housewife, throws herself into renovating their house, but once the project is finished finds herself depressed.  Walter, a strong believer in population control and environmental protection, rides his bike to work every day but eventually changes jobs to a career that will alter his life forever.

Did I like Walter and Patty, or their mutual musician friend Richard?  Absolutely not.  Did I agree with the decisions their children made?  Not once.  Did I enjoy reading about their lives?  I couldn’t get enough of it.

Though I do not think this is the perfect novel, or the perfect US novel, I do think that this story perfectly captures a moment in our history with characters who, yes, are somewhat like caricatures of their real-life counterparts.  But never does Freedom venture into the unbelievable, rather only the extreme.  There is a little bit of all of us, our worst sides, in these characters.

Walter, though for much of his life he thinks he knows what he wants and how to get it, finds himself unsure of everything as he gets older and his children and wife disappoint him.  This is how that feeling is described for Walter:

“He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to live.  Each new thing he encountered in life impelled him in a direction that fully convinced him of its rightness, but then the next new thing loomed up and impelled him in the opposite direction, which also felt right.  There was no controlling narrative: he seemed to himself a purely reactive pinball in a game whose only object was to stay alive for staying alive’s sake.” (318)

I also loved that Freedom existed wholly in its time period, from the late 70s to the late 2000s, with the appearances of appropriate music details and technologies, including Twitter, Priuses and Obama:

“Linda was very offended by this conversation.  Walter wasn’t really even a neighbor, he didn’t belong to the homeowners association, and the fact that he drove a Japanese hybrid, to which he’d recently applied an OBAMA bumper sticker, pointed, in her mind, toward godlessness and a callousness regarding the plight of hardworking families, like hers, who were struggling to make ends meet and raise their children to be good, loving citizens in a dangerous world.” (544)

“Anxieties hung like a cloud of no-see-ums on Canterbridge Court; they invaded every house via cable news and talk radio and the internet.  There was plenty of tweeting on Twitter, but the chirping and fluttering world of nature, which Walter had invoked as if people were still supposed to care about it, was one anxiety too many.” (546)

Freedom is going to be one of my favorite novels of the year.  It reminded me of all the things I love about Wally Lamb, with none of the problems I have with his fiction.  Will novels like Freedom and The Hour I First Believed, which are so entrenched in a time period and actually occupy the same time period, eventually sound dated?  I hope not.  I hope that they simply serve as a glimpse into our society’s idiosyncrasies and complexities.  I am eager to read The Corrections, a pre-9/11 novel, to compare it to Freedom.

So go read this!: now | tomorrow | next week | next month | next year | when you’ve exhausted your TBR pile

Also reviewed by: Caribousmom, Lous_pages, Steph & Tony Investigate, 1000 Books with Quotes, Tales from the Reading Room,  Feminist Texican [Reads], The New Dork Review of Books.

Grief and humor in Looking for Bapu

“The wrinkle-nosed woman turns again.  ‘You’re brave to wear your turban, young man.  With all the anxiety!’

Young man?  Mr. Singh must be at least forty.  ‘I’ve been honored to wear this turban for many years,’  he says, holding his head high.  ‘Throughout history people have fought and died for the right to wear it.  I will not take it off  now.’

The woman purses her lips.  ‘Well, you’re very brave.’  She turns ahead  again, and the line begins to move, finally.  I glance sidelong at Dad.  He looks Indian, but he whistles ‘American Pie’ in the shower and reads the Seattle newspaper in the morning.  My dad is not what anyone calls him.  My dad is just my dad.  Is it brave to be what you are, I wonder?  Brave to just be yourself?” (pg 63)

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Review – The Emperor’s Children by Claire Messud

The first thing I feel like I should tell you about The Emperor’s Children is that I almost stopped listening to it because there is not a single character in this book that I understood or liked.  They all made horrible decisions and did horrible things to each other and were generally self important ass-holes.  Excuse my French.  But then, after a good five or six hours of listening, I started to be really interested in their stupidity.  It was like watching a reality show and being sucked in, even though you keep saying to yourself, “I’m better than this!”

All of that is not to say that The Emperor’s Children is poorly written.  If anything, it’s a little over-written, but the characters, though unbelievably frustrating, are also really believable.  The novel follows several New Yorkers, all in their early thirties, in the year before September 11, 2001.  Marina Thwaite, daughter of the famous journalist Murray Thwaite, Danielle Minkoff, a documentary producer, and Julius Clarke, a freelance critic, have been friends since they were students at Brown University and have little to show for their post-college years.  Marina has been working on a book about children’s clothes (hence the title of the novel) for the past ten years.  Danielle is moderately successful, but rarely gets to make documentaries about what she wants and Julius is just barely staying a float, often taking temp jobs to supplement his income.

Then in the summer of 2001, Ludovic Seeley and Frederick “Bootie” Tubb (Murray’s nephew) enter the picture and things are never really the same again.  Ludovic is a “revolutionary”, attempting to dismantle the hypocrisy of figureheads like Murray Thwaite, who falls in love with Marina.  Bootie moves to New York after quitting of college because of his disappointment in the system to work for his uncle and try to get an “in” to the elite society that his uncle dictates.

These characters are wheeling toward September 11, with no knowledge as to how their lives are going to change in the  coming weeks.  They are dismantling their own lives, rushing into marriages, entering abusive and adulterous relationships.  They hurt each other and themselves and are the physical embodiment of the hypocrisy they deny.  It’s amazing, really, how expertly these characters were created.  I had to constantly remind myself that these people were in their thirties, but that seemed like just the point.  They never grew up and were still children and not even September 11 changed that, though perhaps they were exposed for what they really were.

So do you have to like a character for a novel to be good?  I might have said yes before reading this book, but I thoroughly enjoyed listening to this novel.

So go read this!: now | tomorrow | next week | next month | next year | when you’ve exhausted your TBR pile

Other reviews:

New York Times (The NYT book review is much more culturally aware than I am)
Ready When You Are, CB

Did you read and review The Emperor’s Children? Let me know in the comments section and I will link to your post here!

Note: This review was already published once, but there was an error with the page.