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clownser 's review for:
Flowers for Algernon
by Daniel Keyes
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
xfer’d from GR, so marking the whole thing as a spoiler just in case This book brought back my love of reading. Every time I think about it, I’m second guessing myself. I love the concept of the progress reports; they are perfect for this story. I think Charlie’s personification is absolutely perfect, at every point in the story. I often found myself thinking “what a perfect way to describe it, but I would have never thought of it that way.”
I still find myself struggling to come to terms with the ending, but especially my own attitude towards it. It made me sad, but also made me question if it should make me sad.
A note I wrote for myself while reading: “Lots of thoughts here. First of all, why, if he sees value in who he was before is this (regressing) a proverbial death? And if I see him as wholly human before, why am I sad about the concept of him regressing? I’m thinking to myself ‘well, how should I feel about this? What is moral? What is correct?’ I feel a bit uncomfortable with this whole concept right now. I’m not sure what I’m rooting for—or rather, I’m not sure if what I’m rooting for is the best outcome, or if there even is a best outcome. If we’re talking equality, wouldn’t either outcome be neutral?”
I think this book really upset me to read because not only did I feel sorry for Charlie’s loss, desperately gripping onto what he knew he was capable of for a while, I’m also terribly afraid of death and dying. Obviously, he didn’t die. But the concept of dementia feels similar to me, and the reality that we start as children, unknowing and confused but mostly content, and gradually become adults, who know and grow and understand the best we can in the world around us, and then regress again as we get older, having the knowledge and experience we lacked as children to recognize it as regression. And aging is something to be celebrated, surely, but God, did it hurt seeing him plead to remember and imagine how that might be me, or worse (in my eyes), my mom, someday. The uncomfortable parallel between how Charlie saw his mother and how he saw his past self still stings.
What’s unfortunate, in my opinion, about this story isn’t that he lost his intelligence. It’s that he gained it and THEN lost it. The parallels to the Garden of Eden. Is knowledge a burden? Is knowing a burden? But at the same time, can you really call something a “burden” if you leave behind claw marks when it’s gone? I have loved and lost people, but I don’t regret loving them after they’re gone. But this isn’t the same as interrelations among people; it’s something within the self.
Reminds me of our relationship with technology today. I would beg and plead to be allowed to keep my phone if someone tried to take it from me. But I was happier before I had it. But now that I’ve had it, I don’t want to lose it. So is it something worth having? Or is it only worth it once I’ve had it, but if not, I’m better off without it?
I could attach this thought to so many things. I’ll be thinking about this book for as long as I live.
I still find myself struggling to come to terms with the ending, but especially my own attitude towards it. It made me sad, but also made me question if it should make me sad.
A note I wrote for myself while reading: “Lots of thoughts here. First of all, why, if he sees value in who he was before is this (regressing) a proverbial death? And if I see him as wholly human before, why am I sad about the concept of him regressing? I’m thinking to myself ‘well, how should I feel about this? What is moral? What is correct?’ I feel a bit uncomfortable with this whole concept right now. I’m not sure what I’m rooting for—or rather, I’m not sure if what I’m rooting for is the best outcome, or if there even is a best outcome. If we’re talking equality, wouldn’t either outcome be neutral?”
I think this book really upset me to read because not only did I feel sorry for Charlie’s loss, desperately gripping onto what he knew he was capable of for a while, I’m also terribly afraid of death and dying. Obviously, he didn’t die. But the concept of dementia feels similar to me, and the reality that we start as children, unknowing and confused but mostly content, and gradually become adults, who know and grow and understand the best we can in the world around us, and then regress again as we get older, having the knowledge and experience we lacked as children to recognize it as regression. And aging is something to be celebrated, surely, but God, did it hurt seeing him plead to remember and imagine how that might be me, or worse (in my eyes), my mom, someday. The uncomfortable parallel between how Charlie saw his mother and how he saw his past self still stings.
What’s unfortunate, in my opinion, about this story isn’t that he lost his intelligence. It’s that he gained it and THEN lost it. The parallels to the Garden of Eden. Is knowledge a burden? Is knowing a burden? But at the same time, can you really call something a “burden” if you leave behind claw marks when it’s gone? I have loved and lost people, but I don’t regret loving them after they’re gone. But this isn’t the same as interrelations among people; it’s something within the self.
Reminds me of our relationship with technology today. I would beg and plead to be allowed to keep my phone if someone tried to take it from me. But I was happier before I had it. But now that I’ve had it, I don’t want to lose it. So is it something worth having? Or is it only worth it once I’ve had it, but if not, I’m better off without it?
I could attach this thought to so many things. I’ll be thinking about this book for as long as I live.