Correct Me, Please.

When I read Jonathan Franzen’s book of essays “How To Be Alone” last year it was immediately clear how passionate he is about the art of writing. In a series of essays he chronicles his frustration with the lost art of reading and the deterioration of intellectualism as a component of popular culture. Even though a lot of his vocabulary in that book was over my head, as were some of the ideas presented, I knew that eventually I would want to read his most famous novel “The Corrections.” It sat idly on my shelf for over a year but I figured what better time to delve into a challenging book than this equally idle period of my life?!

At its heart, “The Corrections” is a story about the changes we want to make in our life but are too afraid to ever admit. Enid, the mother of the family wishes nothing more than to gather her grown children together for one last holiday before her husband Alfred slips into his Parkinson’s related dementia completely. What follows is a uniquely crafted novel about the ways that people fail as children, as parents and generally as humans in the complicated world we live in. Yet even in this heavy subject matter that interrogates the complex mental structures of each character of the family, there is an immense amount of humor and heart warming/wrenching family dynamic.

Our family sometimes magnifies flaws, both within ourselves and the other members, however unwillingly that comes about. We may try to distance ourselves from them but know that we are inextricably bound. What amazes me so much about the book is how intensely personal it seems. I’ve never read conversations that so perfectly capture the frustration that comes with loving your family too much and accepting the disappointment that such love can bring. The moments that Franzen slips into Alfred’s deteriorating mind are incredible for their ability to portray mental absurdity through fragmentary thoughts. As Franzen changes from character to character within the 5 member family unit, it seems that each narrative must be autobiographical because he inhabits their fears and idiosyncrasies so perfectly.

Every character in this book is flawed to the point of disintegration and we encounter each of them hitting a low and learning from it. Even though each character has a clear arc, nothing seems tied up like an after school special. The mother Enid is suppressed emotionally to the point that she drives her children nuts and it’s interesting seeing what traits the children take from their parents. At times it makes you angry but that is what Franzen does so well, he allows you to feel the emotion of each character and sympathize with them at moments that would typically make you scream.

Several friends of mine were unable to get through the first 100 pages of this book but I found myself interested from the beginning. There were passages (some discussing neurological activity, investment opportunities, a random trip to Lithuania) when my interest waned but on a whole I thoroughly enjoyed it. If anything, it’s always interesting to read something by the guy that got kicked out of Oprah’s book club.