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3.71 AVERAGE
3.71 AVERAGE
Despite the rampant misogyny in Freedom, I can take solace in the notion that Jonathan Franzen seems to despise D.C. and its out of touch denizens as much as I do sometimes.
I mostly kid. This is my first Franzen novel, I was sucked in at the beginning and made it through the first half in the first day I picked it up. The second half I pushed through the rest in the past week, still enjoying the experience of reading Freedom but also feeling bogged down by its jam-packed dialogue and repetitive feelings. I’m left feeling impressed and even moved by the depth of relation and emotion in the marriage and familial ties in Freedom. I teared up at the reconciliation at the end, mainly for the way that the books main theme and title, comes to be the antithesis of independence and the concept that one person can have sovereignty over pain.
The hard part of this book is the incessant misogyny that rules the way that men and women relate to one another in the book. I think it’s more symptomatic and than a shortcoming so it shouldn’t keep the discerning reader away.
Misogyny operates on two levels. The first is superficial and a narrative device, found in the explicit references to how women and their desires are sidelined in order to advance the aims of men. Some characters are even presented as somewhat justified in their misogyny, Richard Katz being one of them. His indifference to the complexity of women is given traction is how every woman acts a little insane and neurotic around him. Walter’s seeming love and care for womankind is juxtaposed to the callousness of Richard Katz and the harshness of his father towards his meek mother. And it is seen as a weakness by Patty, Richard, and others exploited by women looking to get an edge over the other women in Walter’s life, like Carols flirting.
There’s a more pernicious level to the misogyny in Freedom can be found in the way that depression is approached in each of the characters. Depression (alongside “freedom”) is one of the other major themes and holds a lot of explanatory power. It’s hard to find one character in Freedom that is not dealing with some sort of debilitating depression. It could broadly be diagnosed as a kind of almost and new millennium disorder where the sins of the 20th century and the tragedies of the first decade of the 21st hit at every level. But Franzen also goes into the ways that depression affects the characters individually.
The thing is, when men have depression in Freedom, the causes are always explained by systematic and cultural factors. Richard Katz’s is epigenetic, Walter’s is the rejection of a kind of Scandinavian immigrant stoicism and later deep double-pronged grief. Their depression is a *rational* response to the backwards ways that humans have decided are okay for living.
As for women’s depression, it is ineffable, inexplicable, and unknowable. Patty, who is for all intents and purposes Freedom’s protagonist and gives the most shape to how depression might affect one’s actions and relationships, gives no insight into why her depression is given reign over her direction. Connie is described as almost automaton like in her devotion and attention towards Joey. Even Patty’s mother, a Jewish woman who abandoned her upbringing to try to make a political career, cops out when asked directly to explain why her experience with depression might have led to her emotional neglect of her most well-adjusted child, Patty. And when Joey’s depression is discussed it is seen as an inheritance from his mother and as such, irrational, sinful, and something to be shut away.
The problem with this dynamic is that depression doesn’t need to have a rationale and it doesn’t need to be explained. To give male characters a fighting chance at overcoming their depression because it can be tied to the world, Freedom leaves its women characters untethered from the march of progress, from making strides toward building a better future. Hell, Franzen even kills off the one female character that’s solely dedicated to making the world a better place.
I mostly kid. This is my first Franzen novel, I was sucked in at the beginning and made it through the first half in the first day I picked it up. The second half I pushed through the rest in the past week, still enjoying the experience of reading Freedom but also feeling bogged down by its jam-packed dialogue and repetitive feelings. I’m left feeling impressed and even moved by the depth of relation and emotion in the marriage and familial ties in Freedom. I teared up at the reconciliation at the end, mainly for the way that the books main theme and title, comes to be the antithesis of independence and the concept that one person can have sovereignty over pain.
The hard part of this book is the incessant misogyny that rules the way that men and women relate to one another in the book. I think it’s more symptomatic and than a shortcoming so it shouldn’t keep the discerning reader away.
Misogyny operates on two levels. The first is superficial and a narrative device, found in the explicit references to how women and their desires are sidelined in order to advance the aims of men. Some characters are even presented as somewhat justified in their misogyny, Richard Katz being one of them. His indifference to the complexity of women is given traction is how every woman acts a little insane and neurotic around him. Walter’s seeming love and care for womankind is juxtaposed to the callousness of Richard Katz and the harshness of his father towards his meek mother. And it is seen as a weakness by Patty, Richard, and others exploited by women looking to get an edge over the other women in Walter’s life, like Carols flirting.
There’s a more pernicious level to the misogyny in Freedom can be found in the way that depression is approached in each of the characters. Depression (alongside “freedom”) is one of the other major themes and holds a lot of explanatory power. It’s hard to find one character in Freedom that is not dealing with some sort of debilitating depression. It could broadly be diagnosed as a kind of almost and new millennium disorder where the sins of the 20th century and the tragedies of the first decade of the 21st hit at every level. But Franzen also goes into the ways that depression affects the characters individually.
The thing is, when men have depression in Freedom, the causes are always explained by systematic and cultural factors. Richard Katz’s is epigenetic, Walter’s is the rejection of a kind of Scandinavian immigrant stoicism and later deep double-pronged grief. Their depression is a *rational* response to the backwards ways that humans have decided are okay for living.
As for women’s depression, it is ineffable, inexplicable, and unknowable. Patty, who is for all intents and purposes Freedom’s protagonist and gives the most shape to how depression might affect one’s actions and relationships, gives no insight into why her depression is given reign over her direction. Connie is described as almost automaton like in her devotion and attention towards Joey. Even Patty’s mother, a Jewish woman who abandoned her upbringing to try to make a political career, cops out when asked directly to explain why her experience with depression might have led to her emotional neglect of her most well-adjusted child, Patty. And when Joey’s depression is discussed it is seen as an inheritance from his mother and as such, irrational, sinful, and something to be shut away.
The problem with this dynamic is that depression doesn’t need to have a rationale and it doesn’t need to be explained. To give male characters a fighting chance at overcoming their depression because it can be tied to the world, Freedom leaves its women characters untethered from the march of progress, from making strides toward building a better future. Hell, Franzen even kills off the one female character that’s solely dedicated to making the world a better place.
I am having trouble deciding between three and four stars for this book. I hated it and I loved it.
I loved it because Franzen created a story where the characters were complicated and contrary, deplorable but worthy of much needed redemption and forgiveness. I find very few writers can pull this off without devolving into two-dimensional stock figures, but Franzen nailed it...in almost every single one of his characters. Stories that contain these types of characters are the ones that resonate in me, in everyone.
I hated this book because Franzen did what he did too well. This was not a distopia, an end-times, post-apocalyptic survival story. It is not speculative fiction; it was not an escapist fantasy. Rather, it is a calmly written narrative whose elements are perfectly recognizable as the ins-and-outs of early twenty-first-century life. A kind of life that will eventually lead to a ravaged earth and imminent horrors, the discussion of which cause (in me at least) a sort of white-hot panic. Something that we know is ever present just beneath the surface, something we know but would rather not acknowledge or look too carefully at or spend to much time with. Frazen trumpets the need for change by undercutting it and capitalizing on the fact that there is no absolute right and there is no absolute wrong. There are only shades gray. He echoes this in his characters actions and beliefs.
So four stars. Well written. Complicated. Terrifying and heartbreaking. Perhaps resigned, perhaps hopeful. Recommended.
I loved it because Franzen created a story where the characters were complicated and contrary, deplorable but worthy of much needed redemption and forgiveness. I find very few writers can pull this off without devolving into two-dimensional stock figures, but Franzen nailed it...in almost every single one of his characters. Stories that contain these types of characters are the ones that resonate in me, in everyone.
I hated this book because Franzen did what he did too well. This was not a distopia, an end-times, post-apocalyptic survival story. It is not speculative fiction; it was not an escapist fantasy. Rather, it is a calmly written narrative whose elements are perfectly recognizable as the ins-and-outs of early twenty-first-century life. A kind of life that will eventually lead to a ravaged earth and imminent horrors, the discussion of which cause (in me at least) a sort of white-hot panic. Something that we know is ever present just beneath the surface, something we know but would rather not acknowledge or look too carefully at or spend to much time with. Frazen trumpets the need for change by undercutting it and capitalizing on the fact that there is no absolute right and there is no absolute wrong. There are only shades gray. He echoes this in his characters actions and beliefs.
So four stars. Well written. Complicated. Terrifying and heartbreaking. Perhaps resigned, perhaps hopeful. Recommended.
Not going to happen. After 10 pages I already remember why I threw "The Corrections" in the bin. Is it that difficult to just write ONE sentence without useless adverts and endless commas ? When I'm halfway the sentence I already forgot what Franzen tried to say.
Just one example:
"In the earliest years, where you could still drive a Volvo 240 without feeling self-consious, the collective task in Ramsey Hill was to relearn certain life skills that your own parents had fled to the suburbs specifically to unlearn, like how to interest the cops in actually doing there job, and how to protect a bike from a highly motivated thief, and when to bother rousting a drunk from your lawn furniture, and how to encourage feral cats to shit in somebody else's children's sandbox and how to determine whether a public school sucked too much to bother trying to fix it".
SAY AGAIN?
And this will continue for another 500 pages or so. Somebody once wrote in her review about "The Corrections" that it was a kind of wordvomit and I couldn't describe it any better.
I think I already gave this book too much credit by writing a review.
Just one example:
"In the earliest years, where you could still drive a Volvo 240 without feeling self-consious, the collective task in Ramsey Hill was to relearn certain life skills that your own parents had fled to the suburbs specifically to unlearn, like how to interest the cops in actually doing there job, and how to protect a bike from a highly motivated thief, and when to bother rousting a drunk from your lawn furniture, and how to encourage feral cats to shit in somebody else's children's sandbox and how to determine whether a public school sucked too much to bother trying to fix it".
SAY AGAIN?
And this will continue for another 500 pages or so. Somebody once wrote in her review about "The Corrections" that it was a kind of wordvomit and I couldn't describe it any better.
I think I already gave this book too much credit by writing a review.
I started reading this book years ago and couldn't make it through, not because it isn't well written or worth reading but because of how much pain it contains. It all felt so real and relatable the first time that I found myself dreading picking it up. I'm not sure what made me come back to it now after so many years, but I'm so glad I finally did. Franzen has a habit of waiting until the last few pages to provide resolutions for his characters, which means until that point is reached, readers are submerged in hundreds of pages of suffering, misery, loneliness, and the less enjoyable parts of being human. I've read other reviews speak about the characters as completely unlikable, and while I can understand this sentiment, I don't agree with it. For me, I felt the most connected to the characters when they were spiraling downward, could see that they were self-sabotaging, and felt powerless to get themselves out of their often self-created predicaments. Franzen's prose is as sharp as ever, as is his eye for detail. At times it feels like Franzen is laughing with you at how ridiculous his characters can be and at other times it feels like he is the compassionate observer sitting next to the characters and holding their hands as they describe how much pain they are in and how desperately they want to connect. While I wouldn't recommend this book to everyone, I think it has a lot to offer if you can tough it out to the end and let yourself be moved.
Faz tempo que li, portanto farei anotações rápidas.
A introdução/primeiro capítulo é primoroso.
Infelizmente o livro decaí posteriormente, quando temos a perspectiva “autobiográfica” de Patty.
Alguns impulsos dos personagens não são tão justificáveis.
Final ok.
No mais, bom panorama sobre a família nuclear na era Bush.
A introdução/primeiro capítulo é primoroso.
Infelizmente o livro decaí posteriormente, quando temos a perspectiva “autobiográfica” de Patty.
Alguns impulsos dos personagens não são tão justificáveis.
Final ok.
No mais, bom panorama sobre a família nuclear na era Bush.
challenging
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I find this book challenging and hard to explain my feelings towards. The themes are very obvious, and feel underbaked for most of its length. I hated pretty much every character and was very dissapointed with the cynicism for the first half of the book. But somewhere around ~350 pages, the characters turn and with them, so did my enjoyment. Narratively, this seems to be the point where the characters finally accept their true natures and the parts of themselves that they have the freedom to change (I see what you did there, Franzen). It doesn't escape me that this is around the point where I also accepted that I wasn't going to suddenly get the character development that I wanted to smack the characters into accepting, or start enjoying the narrative. Maybe that was the point all along.
I saw a quote from another reviewer/critic of this work that claimed that they liked the book without enjoying it. I kind of feel the reverse - I enjoyed the book without ever liking anything about it.
I saw a quote from another reviewer/critic of this work that claimed that they liked the book without enjoying it. I kind of feel the reverse - I enjoyed the book without ever liking anything about it.
I got about 80% of the way through this book, and abandoned it. There came a point when I realized that, despite the engaging writing style, I just didn't care about the characters of their lives. I will never wonder what happened to Joey and his shitty marriage, or his mom and her shitty marriage. I assume they all ended up miserable. In this way, it was the worst kind of book. It promised something with its tone that it never delivered; I came for lyricism and insight, and was left trudging through the pages, waiting for something to grab my attention. The writing is beautiful and excerpts are compelling, but these placid "too true" stories are depressing, and even worse, boring.
A rambling political love story full of dislikable characters and disagreeable situations. It completely depressed me and yet I couldn't put it down.
This is maybe a 5 star book for me. I couldn't put it down. I do think Franzen is one of our best authors; his complexity and nuance of story are remarkable. The flaws his characters possess seem real and true to me, and I found myself rooting for them even when they were behaving terribly. There's a hardness, though, at the core of this book that puts me off a little. It's not something I can explain, but it's why I rated the book the way I did.
I was pretty into this at first, another one of those stories where everyone just ruins their own lives over and over through selfishness and self-sabotage, maybe knowing on some level what they’re doing, but unable or unwilling to stop. But as it went on I just felt increasingly like I was listening to caricatures, and like everything was too neatly bound in digestible packets of symbolism and analogy, and by the end the story felt pretty melodramatic and inconsequential. I keep imagining Franzen’s stupid smug smile, him sitting at a computer relishing something like the “soft-spoken subtlety of the moment” in that reunion scene between Patty and Walter. Like I don’t know what it is, but I don’t particularly find myself respecting the idea I have in my head about who the author is. Maybe there isn’t enough mystery or awe in the art, like it feels obviously crafted instead. Or maybe I feel scared on some level that this is the high end of what I could ever achieve myself. This is by far the meanest Goodreads review I have ever put up here, whatever, maybe I’ll remove it later. I think I’m off Franzen for a long time after this tbh.
AB
AB