XXIII - Flowers for Algernon

PROGRIS RIPORT 1 MARTCH 3 

Dr Strauss says I should rite down what I think and remembir and evrey thhig that happins to me from now on. I dont no why but he says its importint so they will see if they can use me. I hope they use me becaus Miss Kinnian says maybe they can make me smart. I want to be smart. My name is Charlie Gordon I werk in Donners bakery where Mr Donner gives me 11 dollers a week and bred or cake if I want. I am 32 yeres old and next munth is my birthday. I tolld dr Strauss and perfesser Nemus I cant rite good but he says it dont matter he says I shud rite just like I talk and like I rite compushishens in Miss Kinnians class at the beekmin collidge center for retarted adults where I go to lern 3 times a week on my time off. Dr Strauss says to rite a lot evrything I think and evrything that happins to me but I cant think anymor because I have nothing to rite so I will close for today...yrs truly Charlie Gordon.

So begins Flowers for Algernon.

If I could accomplish anything from my reading habits, I would like to persuade others to take efforts to read Science Fiction. I have this notion that most people still think of Star Trek (great programme) or Babylon 5 when someone mentions Sci Fi, as if every book ever composed consists of interstellar travel, ringworlds, gelatinous blobs that only speak in algebra, thought rays, Arnold Schwarzenegger adaptations. This is true of some, and indeed true of some of the best Sci Fi I've ever read. It's by no means the rule of law.

Flowers for Algernon is essentially set in the confines of one New York neighbourhood: a bakery, an apartment, a few streets, a university campus. Even the central premise of the book, though scientific, is by no means fantastical. Scientists have developed what they think is a life changing operation for individuals with low IQ. A mouse called Algernon demonstrated an aptitude for lateral thinking and self awareness after a simple operation, and the decision is made to test the procedure on a low IQ human. Charlie Gordon, a cleaner working in Brooklyn, has an IQ of 68, and is chosen by the university for his outgoing disposition and willingness to learn. He is encouraged from the start to keep a diary, which makes up the entirety of Flowers for Algernon. In time, his IQ rockets from 68 to 182 and beyond. The scientific blessing however is almost as much a curse as Charlie goes from one sort of life to another, finding his past now distateful and tragic but with no hope for the future either, as his elevated IQ finds a fatal flaw in the scientists' studies.

Like many great works of science fiction out there, the story is a red herring of sorts, the undercurrent proving more important in the long run. Flowers for Algernon deals with deeply philosophical matters, it uses Charlie as a means to explore ideas of innocence, of knowledge, of belonging somewhere and conversely being alone in this world. The book runs with an undercurrent of warmth and humanity, despite the often remorselessly tragic storytelling. I was moved Flowers for Algernon in a way I haven't been for such a long time. Science fiction doesn't mean the writers are effectively characters from The Big Bang Theory, I have seen a deeper understanding of the human race displayed by the Daniel Keyes and Olaf Stapletons of this world than many celebrated booker prize winners. Charlie Gordon, a potentially difficult literary character to portray, given his learning disabilities, is handled carefully and respectfully by Keyes. Other characters responses to Charlie, and his gradual change, are equally telling of the human condition. Some, like his boss Mr Donner, are quietly supportive in a man-of-Brooklyn sort of way, while other co-workers take advantage and taunt him in ways less scrupulous men are wont to do. Then there's the researchers, at first bouyed by Charlie's progression, then troubled by his rapidly explosive intellect. The most dominant relationship develops (perhaps unsurprisingly) between Charlie and his teacher Miss Kinnian, whom he gradually adopts more affection and love for as he comes to understand her, before inevitably overtaking her intellectually, and reluctantly casting her aside.

The book spans 8 months in Charlie Gordon's life. A dream built and destroyed in such a small space of time. The second to last page was a total gut punch, one of the most heartbreaking things I've read in a long time - I think in part because I have a brother with learning difficulties and saw some of the tragedy of Charlie's thoughts and feelings in my own brother. Flowers for Algernon celebrates innocence and is oddly sceptical, perhaps even conservative, of medical intervention and scientific study to improve the human species.

I promise there's no rayguns, 3 eyed aliens, lightspeed travel, or any other nonsense. It's a basic premise of an ordinary person thrust into an extraordinary circumstance. Dive in.

"You've become cynical," said Nemur. "That's all this opportunity has meant to you. Your genius has destroyed your faith in the world and in your fellow man." 

"That's not completely true," I said softly. "But I've learned that intelligence alone doesn't mean a damned thing. Here in your university, intelligence, education, knowledge, have all become great idols. But I know now there's one thing you've all overlooked: intelligence and education that hasn't been tempered by human affection isn't worth a damn." 

I helped myself to another martini from the nearby sideboard and continued my sermon."Don't misunderstand me," I said. "Intelligence is one of the greatest human gifts. But all too often a search for knowledge drives out the search for love. This is something else I've discovered for myself very recently. I present it to you as a hypothesis: 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 and involved in itself as a self-centered end, to the exclusion of human relationships, can only lead to violence and pain. 

"When I was retarded I had lots of friends. Now I have no one. Oh, I know lots of people. Lots and lots of people. But I don't have any real friends. Not like I used to have in the bakery. Not a friend in the world who means anything to me, and no one I mean anything to." 

I discovered that my speech was becoming slurred, and there was a lightness in my head. "That can't be right, can it?" I insisted. "I mean, what do you think? Do you think that's... that's right?"