OLL Book Club: Thoughts on Freedom
As we mentioned earlier this month, a bunch of us in the office have been reading Jonathan Franzen’s new book, Freedom. While we can’t give you a play-by-play of all 576 pages, we thought we’d let you know some of our thoughts about the book. Did you read it? What did you think? And, what should we read next?
Lindsey: Before reading a book, I take great pleasure in guessing what the title and cover art might mean. Then, after finishing the novel, I can go back and see how off—or spot-on—I was in my guess. In the case of Freedom, I never would have guessed that the beady-eyed bird on the book jacket was representative of the cerulean warbler. Makes sense, though, right? What I’m still uncertain about is the meaning of the title. Freedom. I wish I had counted the number of times the word, or some variant (freeing, free) appeared. I noticed Franzen’s liberal use of the word around page 100 (I know…it took that long?!?!?) and pondered the meaning throughout the rest of my reading. So here’s my question: Is Franzen saying that the freedom of choice presented to modern middle-class Americans is ultimately destructive to our decision-making and moral fiber? The Declaration of Independence states that the principles of a free society are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Perhaps that “freedom” that we strive for and, dare I say, our society is based upon is more destructive than we ever supposed.
Chris B: The Only Correct Assessment of Freedom *: I want Jonathan Franzen’s brain. Yes, he’s a incredibly talented writer. But more than that, he seems to be a ferocious thinker—a writer/anthropologist whose decades of fieldwork amongst certain inland and coastal tribes of American families has provided him with a complete map of every thought, ritual, emotion, gesture, and linguistic tic that comprise their culture. I loved Freedom for a lot of reasons, but I think the thing I liked about it most was the way Franzen smuggled so many of these offhandedly genius observations about human beings into his characters’ thoughts and conversations. The book did drag at times (hello, long section about the land trust). But 90% of the time, Freedom soared. Way to go, Jonathan! Now give me that brain.
*Claim not verified by all staff members.
Nora: This is the only Jonathan Franzen book I’ve ever read, and while I’m reading more literary fiction now than I used to, it isn’t my favorite genre. With that said: I thought this book was very well-written, technically speaking. Franzen does an excellent job of conveying emotions that might be difficult to understand otherwise. The language is evocative, and the narrative flows very well. It’s compelling, and despite the dense blocks of text, fairly easy to read. Sadly, I’m not sure the story was worthy of the writing. I found this book fundamentally wearying. Every adult character described in any depth turns out to be hypocritical or otherwise an unpleasant person. Their unpleasantness permeates the entire book, until you start to dislike the few decent characters for putting up with them. The story is a litany of disappointment and disillusionment for every single character, until you start to wish they’d just cut ties with each other and start over. Yes, the ending is (spoiler!) hopeful, but by the time I’d read 540 pages of people being horrible to each other, I just wanted it to be over already.
Finally, I have to say that I was disappointed in Franzen’s portrayal of Jewish characters; the men are shown as money-hungry neo-cons, and the women are mystics out of touch with reality or ultra-religious baby factories. I’m impressed that he managed to include such a wide range of Jewish stereotypes, but I don’t understand why he bothered to make his characters Jewish if he only planned to offer shallow portrayals.
Nancy: B.R. Meyers reviewed this book in The Atlantic exactly as I would (if I could take up a few pages on the blog!), so if you want a detailed version of what I think, read this.
In short, the biggest disappointment for me in this book was style. I really loved the style of The Corrections, and was looking forward to another book that capitalized on compelling writing, all the way down to the sentence level. In Freedom, I think Franzen was going for some sort of every-man, contemporary America, narrative voice, and for me, it ended up feeling like a watered down version of what literary fiction should be. I missed the unique phrasing and dark humor of Franzen’s earlier work.
Generally, I tend to read for two things; style and character, so on to character…I disliked every character in this book, with the possible exception of Walter, who ultimately let me down (plot spoiler) by taking Patty back at the end. Patty is one of the most unlikable characters I’ve encountered in a book. Ever. She is a bad wife. Bad mother. And all-around bad person. Her life feels irrelevant because she doesn’t try, nor does she seem to have an original thought in her head. I like depressive characters. I like characters who are unhappy, unsettled, failed, or otherwise miserable (all of which Patty was), but she never tried to pull herself out of it, never tried to change, and was so unaware of herself I was unable to gain any sort of sympathy for her. How can I care about a character who doesn’t try?
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