I read the short story version of
Flowers for Algernon in eighth grade English and it has always
stayed with me, so when I recently found out it was expanded into a
novel I read it right away. So, herewith my thoughts on it, and as
most people know how it all turns out there will be spoilers. :)
Charlie Gordon is a mentally
handicapped man in his early thirties who has a deep-seated longing
to learn to read and write, to be 'smart,' and through his classes at
the Center for Retarded Adults in Brooklyn, he meets the teacher
(Miss Kinnian) who will eventually nominate him for an experimental
surgery at Beekman University. Dr. Nemur and Professor Strauss have
succeeded (so far) in performing the surgery on a mouse named
Algernon, which greatly raised the little guy's intelligence, and
they feel ready to attempt the same on a mentally handicapped human
being.
Probably the best thing about the story
is that it is told through Charlie's own words, via progress reports
he keeps for Nemur and Strauss. Through his basic vocabulary,
misspellings, and complete lack of punctuation we are immediately
drawn into his mind and his world, and it's heartrending to read.
Like a child, he carries no natural suspicion of others, least of all
his 'friends' at the bakery where he works as a janitor; he's
superstitious, carrying a rabbit's foot and lucky penny; and he has
no real memory of the past.
The surgery, as we might expect, is a
success, and there's something really exciting in being able to
follow along as his writing, via the progress reports, reflects his
increasing IQ. We're right there with Charlie as he begins to really
understand the world around him, and this of course inevitably means
the good he formerly saw in people is exposed for what it is. For
example, he believed the men who work at the bakery were his friends
because they laughed at him, which in turn made him laugh and feel
good; in reality, he was always only their foil, their court jester,
and when Charlie realizes this, he is ashamed. (That was probably the
strongest impression I took away from the short story, that moment
when the veil fell away)
Eventually Charlie's intelligence far
outstrips that of Miss Kinnian, Professor Strauss and Dr. Nemur; most people, in fact, as his IQ reaches 185 and beyond. He
reads voraciously, teaches himself twenty languages, becomes an
expert on fringe mathematics – the world of thought is his oyster.
At the same time, Algernon (who had the surgery weeks before Charlie)
begins a slow decline.
By expanding his story into novel form,
author Daniel Keyes was able to dig much deeper into all the
implications of Charlie's new life. And it's this, I think, that
veers the story off course. As a short story, only the essential
elements are included, and instead of lengthy exposition only hints
are dropped, which can be much more profound and affecting, in my
opinion. While striving to create a detailed backstory for Charlie,
through memories of a mentally disabled childhood, Keyes goes to far,
gives too much. Perhaps it is because when the story was written –
the late fifties – the average American did not have the glut of
information regarding the trials of the handicapped as we do now. In
any case, repetitive backstory slows the book down in many places.
We're also treated to the now-genius's
nearly obsessive thoughts on what it means to be emotionally
connected and to achieve sexual maturity. Good elements to have, but
again – overdone and even over-wrought in places. I think if Keyes
had scaled back some, and resorted to two or three powerful scenes
instead of weighing down the entire middle of the book, Flowers
for Algernon would have greater effect with modern audiences.
Hindsight is so...twenty-twenty.
What I did find powerful was Charlie's
eventual discovery that the old, mentally disabled Charlie was still
there with him, just in the background, in the subconscious even,
watching and waiting. Always waiting. The imagery of the little boy
at the front window of his home, doomed to only look out at the world
rather than engage it, is truly haunting, and is brought full-circle
in a way that literally gave me chills.
The overarching theme of the book is
that ignorance really is bliss, while intelligence is pain. Beyond
his new comprehension of the negative subtexts all around him,
Charlie's personality changes until he is nearly insufferable –
unable to have conversations with normal folk without speaking down
to them or becoming quickly bored, unable to understand the
experiences of others. He finds that he actually has no friends now,
where before he did even if only on the surface. “Intelligence
without the ability to give and receive affection leads to mental and
moral breakdown, to neurosis, and possibly even psychosis. And I say
that the mind absorbed in and involved in itself as a self-centered
end, to the exclusion of human relationships, can only lead to
violence and pain.”
Interestingly, it is just this problem
that makes Charlie an unsympathetic character for the majority of the
book. I'd assumed that as he grew smarter his original personality
traits – good-naturedness, kindness – would only be enhanced.
Which leads me to yet another thing I would like to have seen done
differently, and that is much less emphasis on his tortured past and
emotional stuntedness, and more on his intellectual achievements.
Now, that's simply a road the author did not choose to go down, but a
fully sympathetic Charlie would have taken the story to much higher
heights. The kind genius, slaving away at mastering everything for
the betterment of mankind – for the betterment of his fellow
brethren and sisteren in disability – coming to the eventual, cruel
realization that it is only for a time.
Yes, Charlie's reaction to the surgery
mirrors Algernon's, and we are with him as he fights to stay reborn,
to be smart, to remember things, to read the books he so loves. I
can't think of a more poignant literary device than having to watch
it all go away in his own words, the clarity slowly dissolving, the
punctuation disappearing.
One could say that the author purposely
did something very daring in making us feel most connected to the
mentally handicapped Charlie, to prove that main theme of ignorance
being bliss. The last few progress reports kind of gutted me. And
they made reading the book and living with the story worth it in the
end, despite its shortcomings.
Early on, Charlie's aptitude is tested
in various ways, one of which being working mazes at the same time as
Algernon. Before the surgery, the mouse wins every time - “I dint
know mice were so smart” - and after, he is able to best the little
guy. The metaphor of the maze is not lost on Charlie in his finest
moment.
“Although we know the end of the maze
holds death...I see now that the path I choose through that maze
makes me what I am.”
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