THE CORRECTIONS by Jonathan Franzen

Why does everyone think Franzen is the new golden boy of letters??? (Francine Prose, whom I admire—see READING LIKE A WRITER—is among his legion of lit-star fans.) On the one hand, his author-as-wry-cultural-philosopher-as-narrator of this American family drama reminded me somewhat of this generation’s Philip Roth. On the other hand, Franzen is no Philip Roth. His writing can be clever, but too often it’s bloated with tired, fabulously extended metaphors masquerading as literary pyrotechnics, and verbose descriptions of minutiae meant to develop character. The story material is your basic commercial package: the aging suburban parents who offer easy pop shots throughout most of the book, but finish up in a cloyingly empathetic fashion, the failed academic fuck-up of a brother, the successful materialist of a brother, the sexy lesbian sister. Sure, you want to know what happens to them… but you’ve got to wade through a hell of a lot armchair pontificating and excess verbiage.