I've always nursed a secret author crush on Jonathan Franzen. His tales of dysfunctional families, timely narratives dissecting interpersonal politics and his writing as a committed birder have endeared him to me over the years.
After devouring his novel Crossroads, which mentions the area where I live, I sent himĀ an email via his publisher pointing out that a bird he wrote about would not have been in the nearby neighborhood he described.
Only my wife and one close friend know that the personal response I received from the author remains one of my most treasured brushes with a famous person. Forget the time I took care of a member of the cast of "Jackass," or "The Brady Bunch," crossing paths with a great intellects is what does it for me.
Which is why I owe the writer a debt of gratitude for this morning's gift of perspective. After a sore butt from excessive cycling over the past week, I needed a break and decided on a several hour solo hike for this Saturday morning.
Libby, the library app, has become a favorite in our family for ease of accessing both ebooks and the audiobooks. Figuring I had a 2-3 hour hike, I scanned the audiobooks that were available immediately and somehow came across a BBC dramatization of The Corrections, the first book I'd read by Franzen many years ago.
The themes came to life: adult children haunted by their failure to live up to their parents ideals for who and what they should become, guilt over unmet expectations, and missed opportunities to be authentic in their relationships with their family.
It resonated deeply with the present, as our kids approach the college application process.
Should they apply to schools choosing "safe" majors with more linear career paths that improve the likelihood of financial security? Or is that my own parents' immigrant insecurities speaking down the generations through my voice?
Should they avoid pursuing subjects that might align better with their passions but are less likely to lead to the lifestyle that they might not yet know they will long for in another 20 years?
Might my ideas of what lifestyle they should aim for be inappropriately driving them away from a career that could make them truly happy?
Am I coming on so strong that my children don't feel comfortable trusting me with their interior thoughts? Are my concerns about them precluding our enjoying a relationship where they can be authentic around me for fear of not meeting my expectations?
Franzen writes about flawed people within highly dysfunctional families, but the beauty of his writing is how resonant those characters can feel with themes in the reader's life.