Jonathan Franzen’s books have several things in common. They are very long. They have Midwestern roots. They have single word titles. They have terrific dialogue. They have too much philosophy and snarky authorial asides. He pisses people off both with his books and his outspoken persona. However, no matter where you are on the Franzen spectrum, he might be our most talented writer awaiting a maturity and a project that removes Jonathan from his novel enough to enable it to shine brightly with his combination of extraordinary writing, intricate and intimate plotting and his acute social eye. Crossroads appears to be the first (long) book in just such a project – a trilogy that will be gradually revealed.
If Tolstoy had been raised in American Midwest in a God-fearing middle-class world filled with good intentions, decent educations and human weakness, I think this might be his book. That is a big statement. In no way am I “branding” this book as an instant and timeless classic. It is simply Franzen’s best to this date and that says a lot.
Any venture into the story is almost an instant spoiler. The plot is intricate and driven by well-developed characters. Youth is paramount as is God and sex. The setting is perfect for both – 1971 in a white, comfortable Chicago suburb. All convictions seem tenuous but sincere with the conversations echoing both. I finished the book not knowing how to summarize it. It felt bigger than that. Its religious context is as provocative to the reader as it is to the characters. Franzen’s vision remains remarkably contained within the scope of the headlights of his vision. It is a perfect example of the micro informing the macro but doing so within the rhythm of each character’s quotidian existence. The more I write about it the more I am impressed with it.
Crossroads
Jonathan Franzen
2021 577 pages
btw: the cover really grows on you