Jonathan Franzen's "The Corrections"

Books are fun. Sometimes they take longer to finish than intended, but usually the end result sits somewhere among being impressed that the book even had its spine cracked, pure enjoyment of the content, or the enhancement of one’s literary bravado upon completion of, say, some 600-page behemoth. The point is that reading a book to its very end awards readers a sense of accomplishment that transcends said reader’s view of the plot (fiction) or its topic (non-fiction). You don't have to like it to be impressed that you finished it.

Recently, I read Jonathan Franzen’s 566-page paper weight entitled The Corrections (Farrar, Straus and Giroux- 2001). The book revolves around one family, the Lamberts, and its five eclectic members- the father, mother, eldest son, middle son, and youngest daughter. Beginning from the present day, it walks the reader through the family’s origins in the Midwest (where Franzen is from) to the children’s current residences on the East coast (where Franzen is now) using varying retrospective techniques to dissect their moral layering- ex: the narrator elucidates Denise’s (daughter) failed relationships and sexual escapades from her adult life by stepping back and recounting an incident that helped shape her character fifteen years earlier. Franzen’s use of an omniscient narrator is highly effective, like a master lapidary customizing Nigerian diamonds.

The story flows unfettered, the setting changes are dynamic and random- keeping the reader focused- and the characters are detestable and lovable and easily resemble any number of relatives in your family or mine. And the details are intricate and intelligent (Franzen obviously did his research in order to lend legitimacy to the many scenarios he describes- working for the railroad, patent payoffs, etc.). The plot line possesses a fecundity that I have not come across in some time, aside from its occasional esoteric language (the jargon can be disengaging).

The novel’s pitfall, unfortunately, can be found in its hurried conclusion. After investing such copious time reading and investigating the numerous characters and those who reappear and disappear with a turn of a page, the brevity of the offered ending teeters on the almost-insulting. Franzen spends the last segment (chapter?) breaking down each of the main five family members’ ending locale- the children strewn about the country and the parent’s living in a situation that seems like a non-option at the beginning of the book. However, the prefaced exposition would seem to be indicative of a riveting ending- a conclusion that should torment your pathos or soften your perception of the family, anything to compliment the theme. It does not serve the readers as well as the rest of the plot; fifteen approximate pages to end more than 500 hardly suffices. It’s as though you’re aroused and seduced by the plot’s body, only to realize that once the ending reaches climax it shoots blanks.

Regardless, it is a fascinating story that succeeds in depicting the dysfunctionality and pretension of a family that constantly tries to maintain a functional appearance in the eyes of its neighbors. Meanwhile, it’s so focused on hiding its demons that it’s unable to realize that each of the families in the houses next door are just as abhorrent. Really, Franzen succeeds at emphasizing the notion that the “idea” of a normal family is contradictory to reality, and that the only way in which a normal family can be defined is by its abnormalities.

For more about Franzen and his other work (he has multiple novels, a collection of non-fiction essays, and writes for the New Yorker and Harper's Bazaar, among others), check out his web site. Also, for more thought provocation, follow the link to the reader's guide questions for the novel.