Corrective Action

The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen

In the wake of the buzz surrounding last year’s release of Freedom, I knew it was about time I checked out Jonathan Franzen. But instead of diving right into Freedom I decided to start with the novel that earned Franzen his place among contemporary literature’s elite, The Corrections: a sprawling critique of modern American living, told through the lives of the members of the dysfunctional Lambert family.

While the breadth of this novel is vast–it covers 568 pages and seemingly introduces just as many characters–its argument is decidedly succinct. Franzen alleges that it is our prerogative as contemporary Americans to “correct” our faulty attributes. Ultimately, however, despite the many tools, gadgets and pills that contemporary living provides us, our attempts will prove futile. To make this point, The Corrections is broken down into several sections, each dealing with a different adult member of the Lambert family.

Introduced first is Chip, the middle child of parents Alfred and Enid. When we first encounter Chip he is a man in crisis, dealing with the aftermath of losing both his prestigious college teaching job and his wealthy, well-connected girlfriend. Despite the fact that his family makes themselves available for support, Chip considers himself profoundly alone. Revelations of the past then reveal a son who interprets his father’s parenting style as cold and disinterested, and therefore now, as an adult, wants nothing but distance between them. However, by way of Alfred’s crumbling veneer as a result of his severe bout with Parkinson’s, Chip learns that his interpretation of his father, as well as various other truths he once believed in, is terribly wrong.

Next is Gary, the “responsible” eldest son struggling to admit that he is clinically depressed. Growing up in a booming economy, Gary believes that Americans of his generation have to try not to succeed. As a result, Gary considers his high-paying portfolio management job and beautiful wife as boiler-plate acquisitions of anyone living in the same bull market. Gary is therefore incapable of understanding how his modest Midwestern parents can be satisfied with what he believes is a mediocre existence and takes it upon himself to manage their lives as he sees fit. However, as the novel (and his depression) progresses, Gary finds himself questioning his “corrections” and slowly comes clean with the man he truly is.

Finally there is Denise, the Lamberts’ only daughter and youngest of the three siblings. Denise’s personal life has been in a state of disarray since adolescence. Her need to please her doting parents–coupled with her sheer confusion regarding her sexuality–has turned her relationship with them into a farce. Since her first romantic encounter Denise has shielded her parents from the subversive nature of her love life, thus disconnecting them from her. A desperate need to confess and come to terms with her true identity plagues her in the later stages of the book, signifying the failure of “corrections” she attempted to make earlier in her life.

While the action of The Corrections is compelling, Franzen’s masterful prose arguably outshines its content. Most memorable is the perfectly articulated dialogue, with extra kudos going to Enid’s passages. Though the characters are rarely likeable, great credit goes to Franzen for making them always believable.

My final impression of Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections is that overall, it is a very good book. While certain aspects of the novel (its dry lectures on subjects like Lithuanian politics and the railroad industry come to mind) keep it from “five star” status for me, I am greatly intrigued by the author and look forward to reading Freedom very soon.

Healing and Rebuilding

THE SHIPPING NEWS by Annie Proulx

Annie Proulx’s THE SHIPPING NEWS is a story of healing.  Through Proulx’s stilted and terse writing style we meet Quoyle, a pathetic oaf of a man whom fate has given any special favors.  Quoyle grew up with unloving parents, marries an unfaithful woman (unsuitably named Petal Bear) and works an unforgiving job cycle that has him flitting back and forth between dead end jobs.  Eventually, however, Petal commits her most atrocious crime, selling the couple’s two daughters, Bunny and Sunshine, to a child pornographer and running off with another man.  Fate catches up to her, however, and she is in a fatal car crash that sets Quoyle’s rebuilding process in motion.  Soon, Quoyle finds himself moving his family, along with an aunt who had been visiting to work out the details of Quoyle’s parents’ estate, to Newfoundland, the land of his ancestors.

Once in Newfoundland, the healing of Quoyle’s soul begins.  Quoyle makes friends, meets a woman, experiences the joys of fatherhood unadulterated by the influence of their cruel mother and enjoys the fruits of his newfound career ambitions.  It is interesting to note that at this point, a mere 30 or so pages into the novel, the bulk of the action has already occurred.  While the ensuing action occurs slowly and deliberately, the subtle changes in Quoyle’s persona are enough to propel the novel forward.

One of Proulx’s greatest achievements in THE SHIPPING NEWS is her success in writing a story of rebirth amidst a backdrop of decline.  A parellel plot to Quoyle’s story is the story of a town and its disappearing way of wife.  The town of Killick-Claw and the small Newfoundland burgs that surround it were built on the promise of the fishing trade.  Everyone in town is economically connected to the trade and has ancestor upon ancestor who survived, and even prospered, doing the same.  In a modern society infiltrated by corporate conglomerations, however, the promise of this simple way of life is disappearing.  As Proulx illustrates the dilemma of the disappearing agrarian lifestyle she also provides hope in Quoyle and his ability to revive his spirit in the same setting.

While I found myself appreciative of Proulx’s talent as a writer while reading THE SHIPPING NEWS, my ultimate opinion of the book is that it really was not for me.  While I’m sure realistic, the portrayal of the Newfoundland locals and the local history came off too crass for me at times, making it hard to connect with them.  Similarly, while Proulx’s disjointed writing style is certainly unprecendented, I found it off-putting for the novel format.  However, with all of that said, I still enjoyed the story of Quoyle and the skill that went into its composition.