there, but for the grace of odin...

i'm reading jonathan franzen's freedom. like when i read the corrections, i am totally unable to put it down. and what's odd, it's not because i adore the characters. actually, i don't really like any of them all that much. patty, the main female character is self-absorbed, not at all self-reflective, selfish and generally i hope everything completely falls apart for her. her husband, walter, inexplicably adores her, but needs to just get on with it and have a proper affair with his assistant, because he deserves some modicum of happiness. the son is a complete asshole. the daughter, invisible. really pretty unlikeable all of them.

but i can't put it down. it expresses so much about the midwest, about the american middle class, about american culture, about what i saw and experienced growing up. about the people i knew. about the life i left behind. about the wrong life i didn't want to live, but was on my way to. franzen brilliantly and succinctly captures all of that. it's like he knows me, the innermost, most secret me.

and i can't stop reading it. even tho' i'm not that person anymore. somewhere inside, she's still there. and squirming like crazy as we read this book. but she's also grateful we changed course (and country).