His Book Review: Freedom by Jonathan Franzen (2011)

Why he read this book: Lots of publicity when published as great novel

Would he recommend this book: No

His review: I have a pile of books on my bookshelf waiting to be read, and I keep adding to it. So many books I want to read, so little time–remember the the Twilight Zone episode? He can’t read without his glasses?! Really? But I get the point. Picking the next book becomes an exercise in existential angst for me. What must I read vs. what do I want to read. Best case is the two merge; worst case I go into a book like a report, feeling like I have to read it.

I wanted Freedom to be that best case, where the hoopla around it was merited by the quality of the book. I’d bought this book as a hard cover when it originally came out, but only now got around to reading it. Unfortunately, the wait was not worth it. Hopefully I set aside, as I was reading, how Franken’s response to Oprah’s selection of his earlier book painted him as the elite, condescending artist who disdains his audience. What I didn’t find was a book that enchanted me, or pushed my intellect, or even moved me with its poetic ability. This book, frankly, did nothing for me.

Neither the story nor the characters were engaging. Perhaps I’m not prone to the suburban family discord that is the heart of this book. Perhaps I’m not seeing the unique ways he tells his story, or the complexity of the plot. I’m willing to admit that I may not have got what Franken does that so moved critics and other readers. I came out of this book, ready to move to something else, not thinking much about the novel itself. I did like the environmental angle and how it developed at the end; and I did feel an honest affection coming through in the relationship between Walter and Lalitha. But Richard and Patty–didn’t work for me. Joey’s journey-nope.

I’m glad I read it, in that it gives me the ethos to have an opinion about it. And that opinion is meh. Next book from the pile.