I’ve waited a very long time for something substantial from Mr. Franzen. Of course I’d be lying if I said his last two outings were worth the wait, Discomfort Zone didn’t achieve the lofty heights I’d set Mr. Franzen on, and I whipped through it hoping it would be over and I’d forget it. How to be Alone was rehash, essays, something to feed the masses.
‘The Corrections changed the path of my interests in reading, writing and contemporary American fiction. It hit me at the right moment, and I remember being riveted to the page, absolutely blown away by the incredible story. I gushed when I met Mr. Franzen at a signing, pre-9-11, pre-Oprah, and he couldn’t have been more confused by my feelings that I wanted to get amnesia so I could read ‘The Corrections’ again. “You can always read it again.” Is what he said. I also told him it’s not his fault he got picked by Oprah. He gave me a very long look. Since then I’ve gone on to read everything he’s written, Twenty-Seventh City and Strong Motion are capable by any writers standards, but could in no way prepare you for the book that got him thrown out of Oprah’s tea party.
Clearly ‘Good Neighbors’, the center point of this years New Yorker Summer Fiction issue is a taste of Mr. Franzen’s next novel. I have no doubt that this is the hint I’ve been waiting for all these years. A friend of mine told me that his next novel was going to center around a married couple in contemporary society, which is exactly what’s happening in this story. This isn’t a short story, it’s an updated sandblast of Cheever country, a complete revision of the suburban ideal. Good Neighbors echoes Rick Moody, which of course echoes Cheever, but this is more Updike in scope and detail (introducing people as you detail other people), like the fine novel of Updike’s I’m reading now, ‘Couples’, a book 41 years ahead of it’s time. It is very hard to believe that novel ever saw the light of day, and it was published a year before I was born.
We meet three couples who are neighbors, almost side by side. Patty Berglund and her husband Walter – they seem stoic, have a lovely daughter and son, both who are doted on by stay at home mom and supported by a go to work dad. Seth and Merrie Paulsen seem to be on the outside looking in. They hover around Patty and Walter, never really getting in the thick of the neighborhood gossip, which unfolds in typical Franzen fashion, slowly, peeled away, step by step. We get to know Patty and Walter, their good side, sometimes reflected by Seth other times by Merrie.
In the middle of all this is single mom Carol, who has a daughter that will blossom in the upstairs bedroom of Patty and Walter’s home, with their son, Joey. Carol is white trash, has a city job, and a daughter that’s prime rib. It’s amazing to watch these people angrily weave their way around each other, only to explode when they have the misfortune of coming in contact. Walter is the sensible corporate “earner” of the neighborhood, Ramsey Hill a suburb of St. Paul. This could easily be Cheever’s Shady Hill, Franzen licks the ice cream cone of the early 00′s with Gore and liberalism, a common thread in his writing for the most part, but here he uses politics as a flaw, like a DUI or a shop lifting charge that would come up on a background check.
Carol finally meets Blake and he brings a level of unwashed “whiteness” to the neighborhood, and Patty can’t take it. There is a tirade half way through this story that Patty unleashes on anyone with in ear shot that will have you rolling on the floor. This is where suburbia goes sideways, the noise, other people, the crowds, and the traffic. Mr. Franzen unwinds Patty under minuscule neighborly pressures. Walter gets shut out from this emotional tidal wave, his son ignores him, tries to be an adult before his time, and argues every point tooth and nail. Fathers and sons in Franzen’s world don’t always get along; sometimes the fathers refuse to believe their sons even exist.
Mr. Franzen has once again brought to light something that will separate him from the pack, a tightly wound evisceration of modern day suburbia (The Corrections is about a family, Twenty Seventh City is a drama, Strong Motion is earthquakes). People living on top of other people, because there are too many people in the world, and sometimes smart people who read the New York Times have no choice but to suffer the faults of their neighbors. The noise, the selfish attitudes that are apparent in every way shape and form, seem to bubble nicely in the most banal corners of this story. We divert slightly when Walter’s mother dies, at first an annoying sidetrack, but soon it becomes a necessary relief for Patty.
Mr. Franzen makes an astute comment at the start (not an exact quote, but close), about Patty and Walter being super guilty liberals, who have to forgive everyone so their own good fortune could be forgiven. Patty and Walter lack the courage needed to hold this privilege. It’s an insight that whisks by like a passing cloud, taken for granted but it is one of the most important aspects of this fantastic novel excerpt…I mean story. I wonder if Franzen dislikes people as much as he writes about people who are unlikeable?
-JR
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