American Science Fiction: Four Classic Novels 1960-1966: The High Crusade by Poul Anderson / Way Station by Clifford D. Simak / Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes / ...And Call Me Conrad [This Immortal] by Roger Zelazny
edited by Gary K. Wolfe
I picked up this Library of America volume because it contained two winners of the Hugo Award for Best Novel; I decided to read the other two books it contained as part of my project to read winners of the Hugo Award for Best Novel I haven't already read—plus side-steps into other relevant books that interest me. The second of these was the novel version of Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes.
Collection published: 2019 Novel originally published: 1966 Acquired: February 2022 Read: July 2024 |
I am sure there are lots of people who complain the novel loses the elegant simplicity and thus the power of the short story. It has been over fifteen years since I read the short story, so it's hard for me to do a direct comparison. But even without that, I am sure they are right; it's hard for me to imagine it could be otherwise. A good short story is a thing of power, and the premise of "Flowers for Algernon" is perfectly calibrated to make it a great one.
And yet, I don't think that invalidates the novel. The novel doesn't replace the short story, after all, but exists alongside it. Based on my vague memories of the short story, I think what the novel adds is the material about Charlie's family, his "escape" from the experiment, and his different encounters with women. Though like a lot of 1960s sf, it comes at sex from an angle a bit disconcerting to a modern reader (we are more prudish now, I think), I otherwise found a lot of this material highly effective, particularly the stuff about his family. The flashbacks to his family trying to—not very well—deal with their low-IQ child was very interesting. The climax of this subplot, where Charlie goes to see his father (who doesn't recognize him) and his mother (who does but ultimately rejects him) were great, tough scenes.
The last twenty pages or so of the novel are some of the most emotionally charged writing I've ever read. Keyes very expertly shows you the disintegration of Charlie's intelligence in a way that only prose can manage. Because the first-person perspective puts you in the mind of Charlie, you experience the backslide of his intelligence firsthand—you lose your intelligence. My eyes got misty reading it.
If there's one thing that doesn't work for me, it's that Keyes seems to be pushing some kind of idea of intelligence and empathy, that intelligence makes it harder to have empathy. We see this with the various scientists working on Charlie, who treat him as an object not a person, and also with Charlie himself. I'm not totally convinced; the novel tries to make you think that the suspicion of other people Charlies acquires is some kind of tragedy... but people were awful to him. It's totally justified! Something I'd like to chew on at more length if I ever give the book another read.
There's a lot to like here. I'll be curious to see next year if The Moon is a Harsh Mistress really does exceed it for me.
I read an old winner of the Hugo Award for Best Novel every year, plus other Hugo-related books that interest me. Next up in sequence: The Collected Stories of Philip K. Dick, Volume 3
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