Customer Reviews

How to Be Alone: Essays

5 star:		(14)
4 star:		(15)
3 star:		(5)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(4)

 

 

If nothing else the title is enough to make this book engaging. In our popularity oriented, herd minded society there is an almost compulsive urge to at least pick up this book.
But this book goes far beyond its title; comprising an incredibly engaging set of essays touching on many different aspects of self, especially in relation to our ever more complex and noisy society, as well as delving into the state of literature today. Often seemingly gilded with melancholy, Franzen's heartfelt seeking of truth and understanding resonates within those who read it. From the story of his father's slow death through Alzheimer's in "My Father's Brain" to the self-discovery brought on by his love of literary culture, and the rediscovering the source of that love in "The Reader in Exile" the reader is reminded of hard lessons learned.
Aloneness has a stigma in our society as something to be feared and avoided. While this book does not seek to celebrate isolationism it does show it as something not to be feared. Reading itself is the very act of indulgent alones and Franzen exposes the beauty there, as well as our own desire for the individuality that comes with aloneness.

Well, I don't fully understand all of the criticism that is thrown Franzen's way. I really engaged with this book and found the essays interesting, well-written and thought-provoking. All-in-all, Franzen's insights into reading culture, writing, memory and American society were right on the money for me. I think those who don't like this book would be more at home with Newsweek and Time magazine and find USA Today sufficient for their daily news.

Criticism of Franzen as "elitist" is over-stated. If you, like I, are one of those "isolates" who starts reading early in life, you will likely find sympathy with Franzen's perspective as I did. I think "elitist" is a word thrown at those who read and think like Franzen by those who don't. I don't believe the book is elitist so much as representative of a different class of readers in American society who are a little more isolated from American consumer culture and generally find the consumer-driven, media-saturated, conformist version of America unsettling to say the least.

It is amusing and instructional when someone so far removed from the social sciences as this author obviously is makes the intriguing connection between the deadening aspects of the social surround and its effect on individual consciousness. What Franzen bemoans here is really the entire intellectual sweep of the materialistic culture we are embedded in, yet the individual characteristics he uses in the several essays included here in order to illustrate each of his well-taken points are better described as symptoms of the hollowness and lack of intellectual depth and meaning of most of our social artifacts and habits than as simply being problems in and of themselves. He hits the problem dead on when discussing the pandemic use of technology in the form of television, pop culture, and endless games and gadgetry in an attempt to stave off boredom and "entertain' ourselves. What we really are doing is what Aldous Huxley warned of so presciently in "Brave New World"; submerging ourselves in petty diversions and banal preoccupations, deadening ourselves to our environments and to the social world that would other act to engage us in some fashion.

Likewise, his discussion of how widespread use of "serotonin reuptake inhibitors" such as Prozac feeds into a general lack of awareness is quite thought-provoking. If pain, even mental anguish such as depression, can be thought of as a warning from the body that something is wrong, then the whole cultural approach now in vogue to anesthetize the pain is the functional equivalent of a denial of the pain, a quite deliberate attempt to paper it over and therefore disregard the important message it is sending to the individual that something is very wrong. By treating depression as a simple medical problem that can be medicated away as easily as athlete's foot, any hope of using the pain as a starting point for the very necessary discovery process through which one might learn what was wrong and what needed to be done to correct it is gone. In essence, doctors now simply `treat' depression by medicating the symptoms out of existence, without any regard for the very serious questions such physical and emotional manifestations of pain and discomfort may mean for the overall health and well being of the patient. Under such circumstances, the doctors are no different from a guy selling shiny new sports cars to middle aged guys like me, who want a boost out of life and are willing to pay to get it. Oops! Time to take my Zoloft and feel better.

Each of the essays make the reader think, and that is the single highest compliment anyone can make about anyone's writing. I may not agree with what Franzen has to say in each case, but I enjoyed his open attitude and his keen sense that something is amiss in a nation so addicted to Oprah and easy answers that he has to stand back and say "Enough!" His criticisms of the current academic fashion of political correctness are especially interesting, as they show the absurd ways in which even the academics have "dumbed themselves down" to accept such superficial tripe as being the gospel. His notice of the fat that more and more Americans seem to becoming frightened, lonely, and isolated recalls similar observations made by social critics like Philip Slater long ago in a tome called "Pursuit Of Loneliness; American Culture At The Breaking Point" (see my review). This is an absorbing, bright, and intriguing attempt to ask some honest and penetrating questions, and while I may not agree with what he argues or with his conclusions, it is a wonderful book that raises one's intellectual curiosity and one's self-awareness in terms of how easily it is for each of us to slip into the burgeoning cultural habits he so cleverly exposes. Enjoy!

I found this book thought provoking on many social dimensions, but I still wrestled with why it was published. (Cynical hypotheses, not particularly my own: milk the Corrections-cow a bit longer by publishing fast? Allow an obsessive author to edit past works?) Who knows. But one assertion can be made about this book with a fair measure of certainty: Franzen wants to be understood, both as a writer and as a human being. And these roles, it is important to note, are virtually isomorphic for Franzen. In writing about Alzheimer's or the prison system or cultural degradation, Franzen doesn't offer clear-eyed, journalistic observations that strive for balance and objectivity. Rather, he fuses social critique with personal perspective, infusing his own musings, grievances, and experiences. As he mourns the decline of serious reading, he might point to a real social phenomenon, but he clearly illustrates his individual (and probably deeper) fear of professional irrelevance. His derision of fussy female lingerie and how-to sex manuals intends to skewer the hokum threatening to infiltrate our sex lives, but it also whiffs a bit of sour grapes swallowed long ago by some smart, geeky, awkward youth who was probably a bit afraid of women. And other examples abound, as Franzen reveals liberally of his inner terrain, whether he intends to or not (I think he mostly intends to). Among other things in "How to Be Alone," we are witnessing creative writing as a powerful Rorschachian projective device: Tell me, author, what do you see when formless ink meets blank white page?

But, for me, this is the level at which the book works best. Franzen's (self) portrait of the impoverished, angst-ridden artist is a beguiling one. He salvages broken furniture from a trash heap... he hunches over a clattering, archaic keyboard, pounding out his under-appreciated prose... he fires up fresh waves of neurosis with each new cigarette... he develops a psychosomatic rash for violating his principles. And he finally gets recognized for the enormous talent that he is.

Whatever the reasons for this book, I'm glad it was published, or else I might not have had access to this set of writings. Franzen loses one star (4/5), however, for having insufficient rapport or acquaintance with his readers. He's fixated on his notion of an erstwhile readership that has devolved into MTV-watching technophiles and couch potatoes, while giving little nod of recognition to the diverse lot of people who do read. This strikes me as dismissive and myopic in a man with a gift for nuance in so many other ways. Nevertheless, Franzen's worldview, and his writing, will probably evolve, along with his growing accolades and financial security. Now that he has the recognition he craves, will he cut his readership some slack? (Will he bother to get to know them, or view it as relevant?) Will he invest in some of that reviled technology? Will he lose some of his alienated, self-absorbed edge and develop a more centered soulfulness? (Will his characters, as well?) I look forward to finding out because, beguiled, I'm likely to follow this author wherever he decides to go next.

Right now I'm reading for the second time How to Be Alone, a collection of essays that touch upon various aspects of the Self - notably the alienated Self - within modern American society. It's a topic of which I'll never tire. But here's the twist - Franzen's diverse treatments are not united so much by a historical or sociological sensibility as they are by an intimacy between writer and reader. The act of reading is the meditation Franzen wants us to make (regardless of subject) and he achieves that well. This is a book about the ability to be alone - really, truly alone, to the point where we are able to suffer and learn in our pain and loneliness rather than giving up the ghost and popping SSRIs along with the rest of the nation. One will have to actually sit down, shut up, and plunge into the unknown in order to read, sharing the ups and downs of the writer. As Franzen notes, the reader has to bring something TO a book, rather than unequivocally expecting, always, something FROM a book without offering anything. This book asks us to give a little bit, for which we get a lot.

"Why Bother" is an essay arguing that our current cultural milieu of speed, shallowness, hedonism, and information-without-wisdom doesn't even allow us to see that we are losing our relationship to solitude. The exploration of the concept of public versus private in which the essay engages basically turns conventional wisdom on its head: Franzen insists that our heavily interconnected, mediated society hardly threatens privacy at all, but is rather an extension of the private into every node of human interaction that threatens the public sphere. "Lost in the Mail" is a fascinating insider's view of the Chicago Post Office during all-too-turbulent times, showcasing the bureaucratic workings and inevitable corruption within this mysterious and quasi-religious institution. Despite inefficiencies and frustration, Franzen argues, there is an Andersonian national imaginary behind the idea of the Post Office, and it is this that makes the story interesting. The bottom line is this: whatever Franzen is writing about, he brings a clarity and realism that few others can deliver. William T. Vollmann comes to mind as a writer who, like Franzen, brings an unremitting and ethical devotion to his art.

Franzen expresses a strong disdain, or at least unfamiliarity, with history and the social sciences; in fact, he claims to have gone through school without taking even basic history courses. In spite of this, his voice deeply resonates with thinkers like Habermas, Bhaktin, Derrida, you name it. He has probably read all of them, but he mercifully spares us the name-dropping, making for a highly accessible book. Ultimately, How to Be Alone is an experience beyond its content - one that reminds us that literature is there for a purpose, and however diffuse our reading public has become, literature as a practice of exploration and communication is more important than ever. I thank Franzen for his attention to the details that matter.

I admire Franzen's fiction. "The Corrections" in particular offered a scathing critique of the myths of family and meritocracy that govern contemporary life. As the Lambert family imploded, I winced and laughed and nodded as Franzen described a landscape both pitiful and familiar. Since his novels are so critical and affecting, I thought the essays in "How to Be Alone" would also be worthwhile. I was disappointed.

Franzen's critique lacks nuance. He puts "serious fiction" on a pedestal and uncritically glorifies the "reading life." Meanwhile, he adopts an effete stance in relation to all things mass/pop culture, essentially showing off about getting rid of his tv and situating himself in the context of Quentin Compson, not Seinfeld. Without irony, he bemoans the moment when movies became "films."

While arguing the distinction between high and low culture, Franzen reveals a loathing for anyone lacking his sense of taste and refinement: those unwashed masses who (gasp!) watch tv and listen to pop music.

He concludes that he's learned that being a writer, reader, and thinker means being alone. Not only *working* alone, but also living apart from the culture and adjusting an "oppositional" (a term Franzen seems to define in a particular way--more on that in a moment) stance.

I find this problematic. Yes, of course intellectuals must devote themselves to their work, spending long hours at the keyboard or in their reading chairs. And yes, writers ought to engage in "oppositional" thought--critiquing contemporary life (which Franzen does brilliantly in "The Corrections"), taking stances opposed to dominant thought with all its banality and oppressiveness.

But, if they are to truly affect positive social change, shouldn't writers/readers/thinkers position themselves WITHIN the culture? Franzen cries for the loss of the "social novel," and then turns around and declares himself, essentially, antisocial.

I think brilliant writers like Franzen should engage and even embrace popular and mass culture. Don't stop reading "serious books," but understand that the landscape is dotted with various kinds of texts. Franzen seems comfortable taking a conservative position vis a vis the culture wars, ironic given his investment in the critique of cultural mythology. I think it's possible to devote oneself to intellectual life, and engage with a wider cross section of cultural life. Such an open-ended approach to "culture" gives the writer/reader/thinker a wider range of reference points.

I was looking at the wide range of reviews this book has gotten, and it completely strikes me as appropriate that this books garners the reviews that it does. Consider a quote within the very book:

"The novel is whatever novelists are doing at a given time. If we're not doing the big social novel fifteen years from now, it'll probably mean our sensibilities have changed in ways that make such work less compelling to us - we don't stop because the market dried up. The writer leads, he doesn't follow."

Franzen does not appear to be writing to appeal to everyone - he intends to speak directly on a particular subject that has riled his heart from the beginning, a riling that only a select set of people will embrace. Those that recognize what he speaks of will quickly see the subtext behind all of his writings and see how his selection of essays paints a grand picture of aloneness without seeming to really touch upon the issue directly. Instead, he attacks the idea of it from every angle he knows, as a novelist, from the view of prisons and technology, as one dealing with the past and the present. All is said without saying anything on the topic and it is in this tremendous work that his words carry the careful reader through.

Not all readers will make it to the end. But that is the nature of the book. As many saw only in Catch-22 absurdity and stupidity, I am sure people will regard this book to be likewise. Yet, 'tis not to his audience he writes.

"How To Be Alone" by Jonathan Franzen is the most remarkable collection of essays I've read so far. Perhaps there's a better one, perhaps there are other authors whose mastery of language is sufficient enough to awaken my curiosity about the power of words over feelings. Perhaps, but I'm simply not aware of any other (hint! Help me find them). And in all honesty, I'm not sorry. Because once I've read Franzen, I've discovered the reasons behind my personal amazement of what language is. It is the realization that words carry feelings. Well, not quite. Words possess meaning and their poetic use delivers perception (yes that sounds better). Think about it. 7 million years of humanoid evolution and while the body slowly adapted its physiology to the demands of the environment, our brains played sluggish catch-up. And now, here we are, utilizing a language created only about 100,000 ago with a mind that is still learning how to cope with the billions of thoughts and physiological responses to everything imaginable, and at the same time being bombarded with words, most of which have already lost their sparkle even before the second cup of coffee is finished, and suddenly we discover Franzen's essay - the one beacon in the darkness of the mundane ocean of the familiar, the cliché - and it's shining like a sun, pointing to the only source of emotions and meaning, reminding us of why we think, why we feel, why we live. Like a skillful organ player, Mr. Franzen manipulates the keys and pedals of words to create in me a frame of mind, feelings and dreams. And that's what I call art.

I recommend this book to everyone who has ever wondered what it means to be a skillful writer. Even if you don't agree with what Mr. Franzen stands for, you are obligated (by the power of the written word) to take some time and read one of his essays (my recommendation is the 'Harper' essay. You won't be disappointed).


- by Simon Cleveland

First off, I loved the book cover- spine and all-- one of my all time favorites. It's what first attracted me to this book amongst the other forward-facing covers on the store's front table. Then the title, I loved that just as much. Both share the characteristics of being straightforward, to the point, and revealing. Both are perfectly simple. I read most the essays and came to think that a. this guy really does his homework and b. he has a vocabulary more voluminous than the decimal numbers of pi. I constantly begged for my dictionary. It's probably what gets him the press I knew before I picked this up: an intellectual snob. I guess he got that from the Oprah incident. But I also guess that there's lots of worse name calling that can happen to anyone in their career. What's up with this culture that it's so unacceptably horrible to be labeled an intellectual snob and so enviously warming to be called a pop culture icon? The attraction to Franzen's work is that he investigates and reveals- in a binary way: He's researching facts, he's listening to feelings; he's processing both to give an opinion. The best example of this is My Father's Brain in which he relates the Alzheimer induced decomposing of his father's brain. There is lots about the history and science of memory in this essay; as much as there is about how a family discovers and lives with its loss. Reading it you sympathize, you empathize and you learn. Equally as insightful are :
Lost in the Mail- a look into possible reasons behind Chicago's underperforming mail system
The Reader in Exile- a great reflection on the intellectual and emotional fruits of reading
First City- a historical and pensive piece about what pulls us towards cities
Meet Me in St. Louis- a piece that shares the two-sided feelings in a trio of situations (including the Oprah incident).

A good dream interpreter will offer multiple possibilities from which you might pick. One will make sense to you and surpass "reasonable" or "plausible" to attain "feeling right." In a similar sense, I enjoy Franzen's essays most when they elicit instant affirmation. At those moments, you can nod, say he's hit upon something, notice what nifty way he's found to express what you should have known before. Surprisingly, he seldom achieves that exalted state when he's speaking personally, for himself. He seems more effective when he triangulates his own views with contributions from other smart people. Reading this collection of essays, you occasionally detect the prickliness that makes him--rightly or wrongly--a literary bad boy. His indignation can veer into stridency. However, you also see a sort of warmth that, for me, The Corrections sometimes lacked. As Franzen suggests in his essay "Why Bother?," I read for confirmation that life is complicated. At its best, How to Be Alone does so in a way that suggests not just solidarity with Franzen--and with those he quotes--but with what Franzen observes.