Ian Graye's Reviews > The Corrections

The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen

by
5022264
's review
Sep 17, 11

bookshelves: reviews, read-2011, franzen
Read from June 28 to September 17, 2011

An Opportunity to Make A Few Corrections

I read “The Corrections” pre-Good Reads and originally rated it four stars.

I wanted to re-read (and review) it, before starting “Freedom”.

I originally dropped it a star because I thought there was something unsatisfying about the whole Lithuanian adventure.

Perhaps, when I re-read it, I wouldn’t object to it as much and I could improve my rating.

Having just finished it, I could probably add a half-star, but I’m not ready to give it five.

Second time around, the Vilnius section didn’t grate as much, partly because it was far shorter and more innocuous than I recalled.

However, the second reading helped me to work out what stopped it being a five star effort for me.

The First Draft

Franzen’s writing is easy to read.

He’s a skilful writer, he knows his chops.

His style is both fluent and fluid. You can dip in for a short session and suddenly find that you’ve read 50 to 70 pages pretty effortlessly.

He accumulates detail, but he points you confidently in a direction, even if you don’t know what your destination will be.

He seems to have put his prattishness behind him now, so it’s possible to appreciate his writing without peering darkly through the lens of the Oprah spectacle.

Because he writes in a realist manner, I think that whether or not you will enjoy his novel depends on whether you relate to his subject matter and his characters.

“The Corrections” is primarily concerned with the dynamics of a family.

I have never been a fan of family sagas, so I was initially apprehensive.

Also, when I first read it, I was over-exposed to film about dysfunctional families and the social problems they generate.

However, I don’t see the Lamberts as dysfunctional so much as typical of the thermodynamics that can be present in three relatively ambitious and driven generations in the 21st century.

I’d venture to say that they’re more normal than abnormal.

They don't commit any grievous social crimes, although they do a lot of emotional damage internally.


Punch Lines

Stylistically, the novel is written in the third person.

This allowed Franzen to drop the reader, like a fly on a wall, into a number of different homes and rooms in homes.

From this vantage point, we’re able to observe numerous family members, not only externally but internally as well.

The only negative thing I want to say about this is that, what Franzen dedicated 566 pages to, I think someone like Raymond Carver could have done in 166 pages.

When Carver writes, we ascertain his meaning and intent by inference from the skeletal facts and action on the page.

Franzen leaves little to inference. Everything is spelt out. Meticulously and elegantly, to give him due credit.

He doesn’t pull any punches, but equally he signals all of his punches along the way.

This is the one reservation I have about his style.

There is a sense in which he is a perceptive commentator and essayist, at the expense of being a truly great technical novelist.

Time and time again, I found that he layered detail and content on the page by telling us about it rather than creating the illusion that it was happening in front of our eyes and ears.

There is a lot of back story, and not enough front story.


Interior Design

There isn’t a lot of action, at least externally.

The action is largely interior and individual.

Little is revealed through the interaction of the characters.

Most of it is revealed by way of contemplation or recollection.

The personal tensions that are the focus of the plot end up being in your head, rather than in your face.

While I found it all interesting, I didn’t find it exciting.

I can therefore understand why a large proportion of general readers would find it either too intimidating to start or too boring to finish.

To this extent, you can understand why Franzen was concerned that, because of Oprah’s endorsement, many people would buy the book, without reading or enjoying it.

They weren’t really the readers that Franzen had in mind when he wrote it.

Perhaps, he would have written a different book if he wanted them to read it.

Instead, he wrote for an audience of readers a lot more like himself in temperament.

This isn’t meant to suggest that he was arrogant, only that he didn’t want to disappoint an audience he wasn’t trying to satisfy in the first place.

The Blue Chair

The patriarch of the Lambert family is Alfred, a retired railway engineer and part-time bio-tech inventor.

His wife, Enid, calls him Al. To his three children, he’s obviously “Dad”.

Yet, Franzen constantly refers to him as Alfred, even though he doesn’t come across as pretentious or affected in any way.

You get the impression that Alfred’s old-fashioned rigidity starts with his name and works down.

Whereas, in the hands of Carver, I’m pretty confident that he would have been an abbreviated Al or Fred or a contracted “Lambo” or a work-derived nickname.

We soon learn that Alfred has a great blue chair that takes pride of place.

It’s described as overstuffed and “vaguely gubernatorial”, but most importantly it “was the only major purchase Alfred had ever made without Enid’s approval”.

It has great metaphorical potential, although uncharacteristically it doesn’t really get a mention after page nine, even though it features on the cover of some editions of the novel.

Still, it hints that, within the Lambert family, we have both a patriarch and a matriarch and occasionally the two don’t see eye to eye.

Their differences might be great or small, but they are embodied in the Blue Chair.

A Metaphor Explored

One of the reasons I rate “The Corrections” so highly is that it is an extended exploration of the “correction” metaphor.

Yet, at the same time, the ultimate reason I have dropped it a half- to a full-star is that it never strays very far from a disciplined, even mechanical, revelation of its significance.

I feel hypocritical about this, because one role of a reviewer or critic is to detect these metaphors and elaborate on them.

In the case of Franzen, the role is much easier to perform, because he leaves verbal sign posts or easter eggs the whole way through the text.

Without using Powerpoint, he tells you what he is going to say, he says it, and he reminds you that he has said it.

Normally, we would treat this as consummate communication.

In the case of a novel, it leaves nothing to the imagination, it leaves no mystery, it leaves little to be detected by the reader on their own.

It would be like a crime novel where you knew everything about the crime from the beginning (who, how, when, why), except where the criminal was hiding (where).

The Corrections

So, what do “the corrections” mean?

A correction implies that something is “wrong” or “broken” or isn't “working”, and therefore needs to be fixed or remedied or “corrected”.

Throughout the novel, there are references to physical objects that have been kept, even though they don’t work anymore or need to be fixed.

They have been retained, when someone else, some other family, might have “thrown them away” or got a replacement the moment it was determined to be useless or obsolete.

Alfred would once have had the "will to fix" them, but now he is tired and things go unfixed or uncorrected.

This might suggest that there has been a recent breakdown in Alfred's authority, but I don't get the impression that he has had much authority within the family for a long time.

In the last chapter, there is also a reference to the need for a correction of a “bubble” in an overheated economy.

Investors have blindly expected conditions and values to improve perpetually, but every now and again there must be a correction, a reality check where once there was a dividend cheque.

However, when the economic correction arrives, it is "not an overnight bursting of a bubble but a much more gentle letdown, a year-long leakage of value from key financial markets, a contraction too gradual to generate headlines and too predictable to seriously hurt anybody but fools and the working poor."

Ultimately, the metaphor most overtly concerns the state of the characters' relationships.

Indeed, the novel as a whole is Franzen's State of Relations Address.

In their own way, there have been life-long leakages of value in the family's internal relationships that need to be addressed.

Without being overtly dysfunctional, we can perpetuate relationships even though they are flawed or defective or unsatisfying.

It’s much easier to abandon a relationship (to sell down a non-performing or troublesome stock) when it doesn’t involve a family member.

It’s harder, if not impossible, to abandon or negate a parent/child or sibling to sibling relationship.

In a sexual relationship, you can get the thorn out of your foot.

In a family relationship, sometimes, you can’t get rid of the thorn without losing your foot.

Spousal relationships hover in between the two, depending on whether there are children involved.

Either way, within a family, you can't usually just walk away.

You have to "correct" the relationship or learn to live with the thorn in your foot.

A Chip Separated from the Old Block

When we’re first introduced to the term “correction”, we meet the middle child, Chip, the "alternative sibling" who has dropped out of the world of "conventional expectations", a would-be post-modernist academic, script writer and left-wing libertine.

He might be the “intelligent son”, the "intellectual son", but Chip is still a "comic fool", the protagonist in a farce of his own creation.

Chip forensically analyses his parents’ relationship and decides that his life will “correct” all of their personal failings.

Where they are passive, conservative and straight-laced, he will be active, radical and open-minded.

Franzen doesn’t suggest that this choice is intrinsically wrong, only that Chip makes a bit of a mess of it.

To this extent, the novel sees Chip correct himself and his relationship with his parents and siblings, he becomes "a steady son, a trustworthy brother".

The Straight Option

The oldest child, Gary, is a fund manager, experienced in the ways of business and investment.

He appears to be the successful child, but the visage conceals an unhappiness and dissatisfaction with a more conventional life, so much so that he probably suffers from depression.

Gary is the least resolved of the siblings in the novel.

At the end, he remains unreconciled with his parents and siblings, even if he has achieved a compromise of sorts in the conflict with his wife and children.

The Bent Option

The youngest child and only daughter, Denise, is in many ways the most interesting character.

Some have reacted adversely to her as a shrill harpy.

In Enid’s eyes, she has failed, because she hasn’t settled down, married the love of her life and had children.

Instead, she is a talented chef, uncertain about what she wants personally and sexually.

Denise remains open to different options, only she still hasn’t found what she’s looking for, largely because she doesn’t know what she’s looking for.

Nevertheless, within the family, she is a major factor in the resolution and correction of the problems.

Families First

Franzen most identifies with the children (who are of a similar age), yet there is a sense in which he has the greatest sympathy for Alfred and Enid.

Both parents are children of an earlier generation that was given little choice in how it lived life and raised families.

The children, in contrast, have suffered from an excess of choice and the lack of a moral compass as they made their own choices.

Unfortunately, Alfred has the least opportunity to correct his own behavior, because he is suffering from Parkinson’s Disease.

On the other hand, Enid, despite the failure of her dream to have one last perfect Christmas together, liberates herself and is able to correct (and resurrect) her own life at last, albeit alone.

She is reconciled with, at least, Chip and Denise, and there is a sense in which she will also make things happen with Gary and his family.

Families Last

The plot and its resolution don’t ultimately suggest that there is any perfect family.

Families consist of individuals who all have their own needs and expectations and who all push and pull in their own directions.

The thing is that different people have different expectations, and expectations create responsibilities and obligations and burdens.

If everybody performs their designated role, does their bit, pulls their weight, plays their part, then compliance, reliability and success in turn give rise to a family culture of reliance, confidence and trust.

If things don't "work out", there is a risk of disappointment, a risk of opting out, non-compliance, problems, mistakes, failure and "wrongness" that lead to coercion, anxiety, ostracisation, resentment, blame, guilt and the need to "endure" each other.

There is no such thing as a perfect family.

There can only be good families.

A good family is not one that can avoid mistakes and failure, but one that can embrace apologies and forgiveness as a timely response to disappointed expectations.

This is the heart of “The Corrections”.

There are no car chases, nobody gets shot, nobody goes to prison (or a correctional facility), nobody gets bankrupted, nobody O.D.’s, nobody gets pregnant, nobody even gets divorced.

Yet, somehow, Franzen manages to nail 21st century families and by doing so he nails 21st century society, because, since the beginning of time, families have been at the heart of society.

You cannot have a healthy society without healthy families.

It might be obvious, but it needs to be stated, even if at times Franzen states it too obviously.

Sign into Goodreads to see if any of your friends have read The Corrections.
sign in »

Reading Progress

08/29/2011 page 123
22.0%
show 4 hidden updates…

Comments (showing 1-9 of 9) (9 new)

dateDown_arrow    newest »

message 1: by Ian (new) - rated it 4 stars

Ian Graye I'm going to see Jonathan Franzen at the Brisbane Writers Festival on Saturday, September 10, 2011.

More about that later.

In the meantime, an article published in the Murdoch press about the author in the lead up to the Festival:

http://www.heraldsun.com.au/ipad/fran...

I was interested in the following comment:

Franzen's desire not to be elitist stems from his mother.
"She read some of the things I was writing in college, and she would write me these letters saying, 'I think the kind of writing you are doing has appeal only to a tiny number of tremendously intelligent people; you are turning your back on ordinary people like me'.
And I took that to heart."


More about that when I write my review of "The Corrections" and discuss Chip in particular.


message 2: by Ian (new) - rated it 4 stars

Ian Graye Here is a podcast of the interview:

http://www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2...


message 3: by Ian (last edited Sep 18, 2011 12:52pm) (new) - rated it 4 stars

Ian Graye After finishing "The Corrections", I started to re-read Nicole Krauss' "The History of Love", which for me is an absolute five star achievement.

It also helps me to understand why I could only give "The Corrections" four stars.

Franzen analyses the meaning of life precisely, forensically and surgically.

He is "knowing" in his approach, and after completing the novel, we are more "knowledgeable".

However, there is a sense in which his writing might be biological or at most psychological, well maybe empirical is the word I'm struggling for, whereas in contrast Nicole Krauss leaves open scope for the mystery of life.

I'm not saying that she is a mystical or even an overtly philosophical author, only that if writing a novel was akin to a biopsy, her patient would remain alive on the table, whereas frankly I'm not so sure about Franzen's patient.

In his case, nothing seems to be un-probed, un-investigated, un-explored.

He seems to analyse life within an inch of its death.

If you were a criminal prosecutor, you would love to receive a brief from him.

He would have done all of the work for you.

However, Krauss leaves room to "wonder".

I'm not saying that Franzen isn't capable of this, but I am speculating whether this level of "Realism" could ultimately lead him to a dead end, if not just a dead patient.

Although he uses the word in his novel, I don't feel that there is anything in "The Corrections" that makes me "marvel".

He doesn't write at a "marvellous" level, his fiction might even be "marvel-less".

As Nick Cave sings in "The Ship Song":

"You are a little mystery to me
Every time you come around."


I suppose I would like to keep alive the prospect of a little mystery in my life and my literature.


message 5: by Ian (last edited Sep 18, 2011 04:57pm) (new) - rated it 4 stars

Ian Graye A video for "Portions for Foxes (Rilo Kiley):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qtNV3p...

She has a different take on mystery:

"There's blood in my mouth 'cause I've been biting my tongue all week
I keep on talkin' trash but I never say anything
And the talkin' leads to touchin'
and the touchin' leads to sex
and then there is no mystery left

And it's bad news
Baby I'm bad news
I'm just bad news, bad news, bad news."



message 6: by Ian (last edited Oct 08, 2011 02:14pm) (new) - rated it 4 stars

Ian Graye James Wood

James Wood makes some incidental comments about and around Franzen and "The Corrections" in the following article in The Guardian:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2001/...

Extract

The Great American Social Novel, which strives to capture the times, to document American history, has been revivified by Don DeLillo's Underworld, a novel of epic social power.

Lately, any young American writer of any ambition has been imitating DeLillo - imitating his tentacular ambition, the effort to pin down an entire writhing culture, to be a great analyst of systems, crowds, paranoia, politics; to work on the biggest level possible.

The DeLilloan idea of the novelist as a kind of Frankfurt School entertainer - a cultural theorist, fighting the culture with dialectical devilry - has been woefully influential, and will take some time to die.

Nowadays anyone in possession of a laptop is thought to be a brilliance on the move, filling his or her novel with essaylets and great displays of knowledge.

Indeed, "knowing about things" has become one of the qualifications of the contemporary novelist.

Time and again novelists are praised for their wealth of obscure and far-flung social knowledge. (Richard Powers is the best example, but Tom Wolfe also gets an easy ride simply for "knowing things".)

The reviewer, mistaking bright lights for evidence of habitation, praises the novelist who knows about, say, the sonics of volcanoes. Who also knows how to make a fish curry in Fiji! Who also knows about terrorist cults in Kilburn! And about the New Physics! And so on.

The result - in America at least - is novels of immense self-consciousness with no selves in them at all, curiously arrested and very "brilliant" books that know a thousand things but do not know a single human being.

Zadie Smith is merely of her time when she says, in an interview, that it is not the writer's job "to tell us how somebody felt about something, it's to tell us how the world works".

She has praised the American writers David Foster Wallace and Dave Eggers as "guys who know a great deal about the world.

They understand macro-microeconomics, the way the internet works, maths, philosophy, but... they're still people who know something about the street, about family, love, sex, whatever."

But this idea - that the novelist's task is to go on to the street and figure out social reality - may well have been altered by the events of September 11, merely through the reminder that whatever the novel gets up to, the "culture" can always get up to something bigger.

Ashes defeat garlands.

If topicality, relevance, reportage, social comment, preachy presentism, and sidewalk-smarts - in short, the contemporary American novel in its current, triumphalist form - are novelists' chosen sport, then they will sooner or later be outrun by their own streaking material.

Fiction may well be, as Stendhal wrote, a mirror carried down the middle of a road; but the Stendhalian mirror would explode with reflections were it now being walked around Manhattan.

For who would dare to be knowledgeable about politics and society now? Is it possible to imagine Don DeLillo today writing his novel Mao II - a novel that proposed the foolish notion that the terrorist now does what the novelist used to do, that is, "alter the inner life of the culture"?

Surely, for a while, novelists will be leery of setting themselves up as analysts of society, while society bucks and charges so helplessly. Surely they will tread carefully over their generalisations. It is now very easy to look very dated very fast.

For example, Jonathan Franzen's distinguished new novel, The Corrections , has just appeared in America.

It is a big social novel trying hard not to be one - softened DeLilloism.

Franzen has announced a desire to take the DeLillo model and warmly people it with characters. It's an admirable project.

But there is a passage near the end of The Corrections about the end of the American 20th century that is pure social novel, and which now seems laughably archival:

"It seemed to Enid that current events in general were more muted or insipid nowadays than they'd been in her youth. She had memories of the 1930s, she'd seen firsthand what could happen to a country when the world economy took its gloves off... But disasters of this magnitude no longer seemed to befall the United States. Safety features had been put in place, like the squares of rubber that every modern playground was paved with, to soften impacts." As McInerney might say, "I'm glad I don't have a novel coming out this month."


A Response

No matter what Franzen himself has said about DeLillo, I think he is not (or at the very least is no longer) an imitator of DeLillo, if that was ever correct.

To say that Franzen or any other writer is "imitating his tentacular ambition, the effort to pin down an entire writhing culture, to be a great analyst of systems, crowds, paranoia, politics; to work on the biggest level possible" gives DeLillo too much credit for the ambition of all writers.

DeLillo is just one of many ambitious writers, who share this ambition, but go about it in their own way.

With this qualification (and it is a big one), I don't mind that Wood adds that Franzen is "softened DeLillo", although I don't necessarily agree.

I suspect that this is Wood's way of denigrating Franzen any way.

To say that he has put the characters back into the novel really only says that his ambition is to leave them in or rev them up within the framework of his own work.

I don't see that he has taken DeLillo and added characters.

His works are his own ambition and his own characters.

Lastly, while Franzen does want to discuss the big issues of our time, he does so on a foundation of character.

We learn about everything he wants to discuss through his characters.

For DeLillo, the everything that he is interested in is almost a character in its own right.

It almost has a separate existence.

It's not just explored through the internal lives of his characters.

His characters are just pieces in a bigger puzzle, some of which is human or individual, some of which is non-human or social or a force unto itself.

For Franzen, I suspect that people are the puzzle.

When you piece it altogether, you will see the people, but you will also see every thing that they interact with, because it is part of their lives.

However, it doesn't have a separate existence.


Cecily Yep, the Lithuanian subplot was by far the weakest strand in my opinion, too. I'm intrigued that it was less grating on a reread, though I doubt I will test it for myself any time soon. Then again, your detailed review has whetted my appetite...


Hannah Wright What a great review, you wrote everything I was thinking (much better than I could have written it!)


message 9: by Ian (new) - rated it 4 stars

Ian Graye Thanks, Hannah, sorry I just found your comment.


back to top