A review by saturniidaes
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes

challenging emotional hopeful inspiring reflective sad medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? No
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

If they gave him enough time — if they didn’t rush him or push him too fast — he would get it. But nobody has time.

i reread flowers for algernon a year after i first read it, and it definitely hit harder this time because i'd had time to fully digest its themes and story, as well as reflect on it. and... where do i start? i didn't expect this to become one of my favorite books of all time, a gut punch as well as a heart-wrenchingly relatable story despite what little i had in common with the protagonist -- not to mention that, despite having been published more than 30 years ago, the depictions of ableism and struggle for understanding, for human affection and connection, remains universally understandable.

what i loved:
- charlie's mental disability is never explicitly named, or even specified as one disability or multiple, and that makes his story a great canvas for analogy. i was first recommended the novel by a friend of mine who is autistic and saw themself in charlie, and as someone with severe anxiety (and potentially adhd), i also found myself reflected in charlie's people-pleasing tendencies (laughing at himself along with his "friends"), desire for a genuine relationship, and yearning for intelligence so he could get affirmation from those he sought it from most -- the scenes where post-op charlie wants to hear a "good boy" or "well done, son" from his parents, even though he knows it's childish, spoke to me because deep down i think i wanted that too. in a society that's becoming increasingly knowledge-based, and manual-labor jobs are gradually being replaced by advanced technology, the feeling that i'm not smart enough, and therefore good enough, to succeed in life is all too real. i still have trouble believing this book was written in the 1950s.
- the story is heartbreaking, but its formula stands out among common "heartbreaking" works. there's no war-torn orphan protagonist, dead family, or evil force that needs to be stopped -- all the characters are decent at best and morally corrupt at worst, but they're all sympathetic. haughty, uptight professor nemur is implied to be that way because of a difficult relationship with his wife, and is terrified by the thought (or reality) of charlie, his "experiment", becoming intellectually superior to him. even kind and compassionate alice kinnian sometimes refuses to communicate directly to charlie, who at his most vulnerable moments likely needed someone to be straightforward with him. and charlie, though a clear victim of ableism, has his moments of being insufferable or selfish (like at the height of his IQ increase), which he himself touches on near the end. and speaking of ends -- charlie himself meets a unique one in the form of his intelligence, and all that he's gained from it, slipping from his grasp before his eyes -- achievements, newfound respect, love, all gone. it's tragic because he's all too aware of it, and knows he won't have enough time, but unlike other instances of this trope, he's not dying. there's no merciful end, he has to live through his life falling apart. THAT's what makes it heartbreaking.
(bonus: near the end, some of charlie's behavior -- suicidal thoughts, anhedonia, irritability -- also read as symptoms of depression to me, which was ANOTHER emotional gut punch. i'm glad keyes' descriptions were vague but authentic enough that charlie's mental disabilities can be perceived as more than just being intellectually challenged.)  
- the story itself is a unique take on a popular value: "love is the answer". indeed it is, but often works that invoke this trope focus solely on romantic love from a single person that is able to "fix" the protagonist somehow, or inspire them to be better (e.g. 1984 -- which i also enjoyed, by the way, but it IS guilty of this). here, charlie desires both romantic and sexual love from alice, familial love from his family (specifically his mother, who shunned his entire existence) and platonic love from his colleagues at both beekman and the bakery. all of these desires are explored, and some are unfulfilled, and yet at the end he still accepts this before resigning to his fate, as implied by his goodbyes (which includes a compassionate postscript to nemur telling him to accept criticism every now and then). this writing just feels very human, and didn't focus solely on romantic love. as someone who is aromantic and romance repulsed -- i CANNOT tell you how many times i've seen it, and i glad i didn't this time.

what i didn't like:
(there's really not a lot, and i honestly just put in this section to make my review more balanced. the points below didn't affect my enjoyment very much, and considering the 1950s when flowers for algernon was first published, i was a bit more lenient with certain... views of the time.)
- even though i said it wasn't the focus, i do wish his feelings for alice wasn't such a major part of charlie's developmental arc. alice definitely supported him greatly, and i love the portrayal of their relationship, but the very purple-prose-y description of them having sex, implied to be the climax (pun intended...?) of their relationship consummating just felt very... cliche. and heteronormative. but i'm giving this the 1950s pass, and everything else considered, i can overlook this.
- charlie's mom was definitely an abuser, but she's written as a classic hysterical woman, with "hysterical" being used to describe her several times -- she was terrible to her son, but labelling her behavior as hysteria is no better than describing the mentally disabled charlie as a r*tard. again, 1950s pass (would definitely have affected the rating if this was a 2020s work).
- charlie seems to greatly take offense when fay assumes he might be gay lol.

conclusion: if given the chance, everyone should remember to put some flowers on algernon's grave in the back yard. the story is timeless, easily understood, and is a powerful tale of compassion moreso than it is of scientific achievement. 


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