The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen

Probably a finer work than Freedom, but I was not as compelled by The Corrections. That is probably because Franzen's later work reads more like a polemic as it attacks conservatism in all its manifestations. The Corrections, published in 2001, is certainly topical and certainly left leaning, but the focus here is on a more complex group of characters confronted by more universal problems. The fact that the problems hit a little uncomfortably close to home might have contributed to my ability to put the book down from time to time.

Enid and Alfred, the matriarch and patriarch of a barely functional midwestern family now gone their separate ways, want nothing more than for all the kids to come home to St. Jude for one more family Christmas. This is mostly Enid's wish because Alfred's deteriorating condition will make festive family get togethers less likely with each passing year.

From what little we learn at the outset about the mom and dad, the kids are not big on the idea, but with a little luck and a lot of guilt they all make it home by the last 100 pages. In between we get to meet each kid on his or her own terms and we secretly hope the reunion will never take place. We know it will never live up to Enid's expectations.

There are two nice little conceits holding the book together. It seems that Alfred, in his prime a much greater figure than any of his children, holds a patent for an "electro-polymer" that can act as a kind of cranial conductor for mood enhancing electronic signaling, thus opening the door to all sorts of therapeutic and recreational uses. He signs away the rights for a relative pittance, causing yet further strife within this little family group. Ironically, Enid latches onto the very drug Alfred's invention has made possible in hopes that it will jolt her husband out of his depression and back to reality.

There is also the metaphor of Corrections. Gary, the oldest and wealthiest of the kids, has made a fortune by playing the market and buying hook, line, and sinker into the idea that markets must undergo corrections from time to time in order for growth to be robust. That should be the case for people as well and he pins all his hopes for the future happiness of everyone on a discussion he hopes to have on Christmas day before he has to get back to Philly. This discussion will put in place the corrections he thinks his family needs to make.

Of course, the whole book is devoted to the corrections, intended or otherwise, that the rest of his family is busy enduring. They are exactly the kinds of corrections we all unwittingly undergo to keep afloat. We can fight them or embrace them; we can never ignore them.

I think this is embodied in a scene I can't get out of my head. Alfred has been placed in a hospital for a couple of weeks of tests. It is clear he will never come back home as he slides further and further into dementia. The freedom everyone else feels now that Alfred is safely stowed away is a nightmare for Alfred as his hallucinatory world view has put him inexplicably in a prison:

A stillness had fallen on the cellblock. He couldn't rely on Chip, he was always disappearing. He couldn't rely on anybody but himself. With no plan in his head and no power in his hands he attempted to loosen the belt so he could take his pants off and dry himself. But the belt was as maddening as ever. Twenty times he ran his hands along its length and twenty times he failed to find a buckle. He was like a person of two dimensions seeking freedom in a third. He could search for all eternity and never find the goddam buckle.