In the copy of The Corrections that I checked out of the library, one of the previous readers had underlined every time Franzen used the word "corrections." At first, I laughed a lot and silently mocked this poor thematic analyzer. But as time passed, I grew to enjoy their company and appreciate the constant reminders that something thematic was going on. When I read my sister's well-worn copy of Catch-22 a few summers ago, I underwent a similar transformation from scorn at her high school-era need to constantly write in reminders of who was who in the large cast to the nice feeling that I was reading along with her. So that's why libraries are a good thing, you monsters. Also, in case you become famous one day, the New York Times has THIS to say.
The Corrections, in a lot of ways, overpoweringly reminded me of Freedom (and I'm aware this is well-tread ground). In both novels, Franzen seems to have a vested interest in deconstructing the myth of the happy, less fraught-with-existential-angst Middle America that has become the staple to popular culture that the grains it produces is to the American palate. In Freedom, suburbia was not a refuge from the tensions of the city for people to find again what made America work, but instead an escape, a darkness where they could engage in the sort of low-brow high consumerism that was unraveling America, and the world itself. Walter indirectly contrasted it with New York City, saying that "this is how people are supposed to live." The high-density, low footprint lifestyle of the city was more moral than the reckless pursuit of the titular freedom, of open spaces to hide from engagement with the world. In The Corrections, the children of the suburbanites, in pre-2000s times, flee to the cities, to the lands of the opportunity that they believe is passing by their parents in the boom times of the Dot Com Bubble. And it is important to note that the Lambert parents are incredibly different from the Berglund parents, of different generations, and also of different ideologies. The Lamberts are unswervingly labeled as "gentrifiers," as "already fully the thing that was just starting to happen to the rest of the street." The move to the suburb, of restoring an old Victorian house, of choosing to live in a poor area of town with relatively few white people all smacks of political ramifications, of lifestyle choices. The home of the Lamberts is far afield from civilization, even on the outskirts of suburban St. Jude (which is likely an analogue of Franzen's hometown of St. Louis - my hometown!). It seems anti-modern, resisting the encroaching real world. The house, and Enid's attachment to it and her nostalgic, utterly unrealistic expectations of a real American family are what the novel destroys through its course. Gary's main mission, or one of them, is to force his parents out of the St. Jude house and into civilization (Philadelphia). Alfred's disease also has this effect. The idea of a non-urban living arrangement seems directly at odds with the modern world of the 1990s in The Corrections, while the modern thing to do in Freedom is to succumb to white fright and move somewhere you can build as much house as you want.
Another interesting topic in both Freedom and The Corrections is Franzen's treatment of the Jewish people. In Freedom, for both Patty and Joey, the Jews represent a sort of archetypal, somewhat stereotypical temptation for Joey. Joey's realization that he is Jewish, through his grandmother and mother's matrilineal descent, begins a "last temptation" before his unforgettable "becoming" scene in Argentina. Jenna, in particular, tempts Joey into becoming more materialistic and shallow, dwelling on looks and appearances and wealth, and straying from Connie, with whom he shares a deeper and more lasting connection. Jenna's family, with the exception of Jonathan, are basically war profiteers who champion an invasion of Iraq because of the benefit for Israel. These characterizations of the Jewish characters make Jonathan's longing for a connection with a Jewish past while shopping for wedding rings with Connie in the Jewish district somewhat suspect.
Patty and her mother completely eschew their Jewishness, Patty because she mocks all things religious, and her mother in order to further her political career and her standing with her WASP husband. But the longing for a connection to a Jewish past that Joey experiences is also present in The Corrections, but while Joey's longing is for the self-sufficiency that (what he perceives as) Jewish materialism will bring him, Denise's underplayed longing for Enid to be Jewish, thus making her Jewish as well, seems to hint at her desire to be connected to something bigger and more urban than St. Jude. Her lesbianism/bisexuality doesn't quite immediately figure into this desire, but identification with another persecuted minority, her "crush" on Barbra Streissand in Yentl, and themes of children yearning for urbanization make the fit a bit cleaner. Chip's academic associations with feminists, queer theorists, and Lithuanian capitalists, or the "underdogs" follows this pattern as well. Chip's belief that his mother is interrogating Julia about her past, in part, to ascertain whether or not she is Jewish could point to Enid's own understanding of Jewishness Whether or not this means we can definitively say what the role of Judaism in his novels says about Jonathan Franzen, or his attitudes towards a Webster Groves upbringing, is a matter for debate.
NEXT WEEK: Why Fahrenheit 451 and The National go perfectly together!
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