In conclusion, this is the third novel by Jonathan Franzen that I have read. His first novel was published when he was, if I'm not mistaken, 29 years old. Just for this reason, he is a genius. To conceive such a complex novel at the age of almost 30, a book by a mature writer, already capable of entering the minds and attitudes of several protagonists, their thoughts and their individual personalities. Martin, Barbara and Laura Probst, S. Jammu, Singh, RC, Rolf Ripley, Buzz Wismer, are all protagonists explored in depth, in their complexity. They are people who come alive from the printed page, capturing our sympathy or antipathy, and this is, for me, the strong point. The characters are indeed many, which could make the novel a bit difficult to follow, but our Western familiarity with Anglo-Saxon names helps. Another merit of Franzen is that he has constructed a plot - which revolves around a politico-economic plot led by Indians in St. Louis in the 1980s - seemingly not very realistic, but which then proves to be solid and rather credible during reading, with traits of even greater complexity compared to his later novels. And yet, finishing a Franzen book always leaves me with a kind of emptiness, a sense of incompleteness, as if something is missing at the end. Maybe with "Purity" I will manage to get rid of this feeling.

However, despite this small drawback, Franzen's writing is still highly engaging and thought-provoking. His ability to create vivid and complex characters and weave a detailed and intricate plot is truly remarkable. Each of his novels offers a unique exploration of human nature, society, and the modern world.

I look forward to reading more of his works and seeing how his writing evolves over time. Whether or not I will be able to completely overcome that sense of incompleteness, I am sure that I will continue to be captivated by his stories and the depth of his insights.

The work presented is clearly lacking. It feels unfinished, as if it was abandoned halfway through. It is completely soulless, lacking any real emotion or passion. It seems to have been written by a nerd who has no understanding of the heart or the game of life. The author appears to be obsessed with showing off their cleverness, snickering at their own supposed superiority. This kind of writing does nothing to lift up my spirit or increase my capacity for empathy. It leaves me feeling empty and unfulfilled.

I long for something more meaningful, something that can touch my heart and make me see the world from a different perspective. I want to read words that inspire me, that make me feel alive and connected to something greater than myself. This work fails to do any of that, and it is truly a disappointment.

I rescued this book from the trashpile when my company relocated and discarded an entire bookshelf full of items. I had never read any Franzen before and considered this to be a gratis opportunity to do so.

There were moments when I would start to become engrossed in the story. However, the haphazard nature of the storytelling and the inconsistent writing style constantly left me bewildered and a touch estranged. Toward the conclusion, it improved as the various threads were being woven together, but I didn't truly appreciate how it all culminated. I simply couldn't fathom what Franzen was attempting to convey.

Moreover, I couldn't muster much concern for the characters. They were depicted in a rather broad-brush manner, and the minor details that Franzen included in an effort to make them more relatable seemed so feeble and obvious. For instance, when S. Jammu's name is disclosed and Martin mentally remarks that it seemed so pitiful, as if she believed it was her trump card but it didn't have much significance.

Overall, it was too muddled to be captivating.

If I could have a do-over in my reading journey, I would definitely start with this book.

After that, I would move on to „The Corrections“ and then „Freedom“, gradually building up to experiencing the greatest works of Franzen.

I remember reading this particular book during a long 12-hour bus ride. I was so engrossed in it that I finished it much earlier than expected.

This left me with no choice but to simply stare out the window for the remainder of the trip.

That's just how captivating and good this book was. It had me completely hooked from the very beginning until the end, and I couldn't put it down.

The story, the characters, and the writing style all combined to create an unforgettable reading experience.

I highly recommend this book to anyone who loves great literature and wants to embark on a literary adventure.

City of symbols and all that, recall, so go for it.

Midwestern cities often fail to populate the cultural imagination. They are not the settings for great works of literature, nor are they cosmopolitan hubs of cultural efflorescence. Their sprawling suburbs, born out of white flight from black migrants, have spread homogeneity across the urban geography of the Midwest. Franzen himself has directly compared white flight and the suburbanization of the American city to literary production: "The institution of writing and reading serious novels is like a grand old Middle American city gutted and drained by superhighways. Ringing the depressed inner city of serious work are prosperous colossal suburbs of mass entertainments." "The Twenty-Seventh City" sets out to disprove this claim and show that dying, post-industrial, Midwestern cities are rich with meaning, if only we know where to look.

Part of Franzen's answer, in homage to the great post-moderns Pynchon & Delillo with whom this book is in a deep conversation, is to look everywhere. The main plot of "The Twenty-Seventh City" is a sprawling urban conspiracy where Indians, newly arrived from the subcontinent, infiltrate the sclerotic political and social structure of 1984 St. Louis. St. Louis, once America's 4th largest city in 1870, has fallen to its 27th by the mid-1980s. Its urban decline makes it an easy target for those with money and sheer will-to-power, like the novel's chief antagonist, the new female police chief, S. Jammu. In following Jammu's totalizing bid for power, Franzen's novel brilliantly spans from city hall to high school football games, corporate boardrooms to suburban bedrooms, the inner city slums at the center of a fraudulent real-estate bubble, to the new slums springing up to accommodate those displaced by the movements of capital.

But ultimately, Franzen's novel finds most of its meaning in the Midwestern nuclear family of the Probsts. Martin, the self-made family patriarch (who also happened to build the St. Louis Arch), is characterized by his "Christ-like incorruptibility" and as "embodying the American Spirit." His wife, Barbara, came from money and left her graduate fellowship to marry Martin, have a kid, and volunteer at the local library twice a week. Their daughter, Luisa, is an all-American girl headed to college at Stanford in the fall.

When Martin Probst comes into the crosshairs of Jammu's conspiracy, their family begins to come undone. In deconstructing the Probsts, Franzen shows us that the underpinnings of such an incorruptible man and his perfect family are far from what they seem. Jammu's conspiracy begins by killing the Probst's dog, Dozer. Then Luisa runs away from home with her beau. Barbara cheats on Martin and is eventually kidnapped by the man she cheated with, yet almost goes willingly. As the trappings of family life are stripped away from Martin, his true self comes more and more into view. Martin seethes with a long-repressed rage at everyone who isn't Martin Probst. As the spokesman and leader of a political campaign against a city & county wide referendum, Probst disregards all those who work for him, who don't have his stature and power within the St. Louis political infrastructure. He's an "elephant," he constantly reminds himself. Not like everyone else. He finally tells off his oldest friend from high school, who remains a lowly salesman at JC Penny. Martin Probst "built the Arch, is the head of Municipal Growth," he tells himself, why should he be friends with a JC Penny salesman? He resents the fact that his wife came from money while he skipped college to go right into construction. When she's gone, he doesn't miss her.

This takes us to the central element of Franzen's work that is equally frustrating and brilliant. The drama of the Probst family is the central, and best aspect of this book—the start of what will become Franzen's trademark exploration of the repression in Midwestern families. Martin Probst is as symbolic to the Twenty-Seventh City as the Arch that he built. But the family isn't just a site of repression, it is also the site of redemption. At the end of the novel, Probst sees his daughter again and smiles when he notes that she looks like a "stranger." Martin and Luisa can finally see each other as they are, and not as they should be, a process of recognition and recovery that seems to make the harrowing deconstruction of their family worth it at the end.

Yet, the same can't be said for Franzen's view of politics. Despite the involved machinations of Jammu's all-encompassing conspiracy and manipulation of St. Louis's political system, the referendum that drives the plot of the book is defeated by rain and the "apathy" of voters. As Charles Baxter has perceptively noted in his New York Review of Books piece on Franzen's 2010 novel "Freedom": "What has happened, I think, is that the public sphere is regarded here as a total loss, so that all the big problems are imagined as unsolvable. The result is a particular kind of despair, the sort that arises from rage with no outlet, the core emotion of a large proportion of educated readers during the George W. Bush administration. Corrupted by ruinous quantities of money and the cynical application of power, the public world depicted here seems incapable of saving anything of value. At every point where a citizen tries to enter that world, he encounters active lying and the operations of expedient logic, and, in the novel’s view, he becomes a collaborator. Franzen is not a conservative, but he is a conservationist, and his novel watches helplessly, ragingly, as cherished habitats, cherished beings, begin to disappear."

Or, in Franzen's own words during a recent New York Times interview: "“The people know best. You take that to its conclusion, and you get Donald Trump. What do those Washington insiders know? What does the elite know? What do papers like The New York Times know? Listen, the people know what’s right.” He threw up his hands."

We can then begin to map Franzen's engagement with and revision of American postmodernism. Where Pynchon and Delillo wrote sprawling political novels that emphasized the helplessness one feels when attempting to comprehend their systems, Franzen's trajectory has been one of constant retreat. The "political" as it appears in "The Twenty-Seventh City" is comprised of either corrupt elites engaged in an irresistible conspiracy, or apathetic voters. Rather than attempt to change these systems or find redemption in them, Franzen retreats to the family as the place where meaning can be found and redemption is to be had. In the end, despite its brilliance, one is left wondering whether or not Franzen is every bit as apathetic as the municipal St. Louis voters he disdains.

I just gave up trying, not even reaching the halfway point. There was simply too much happening for me to keep everything in order.

My mind was in a jumble, and I found it increasingly difficult to make sense of the story.

Moreover, I didn't have a strong enough interest in any of the characters to persevere.

None of them seemed to capture my attention or make me invested in their fates.

As a result, I decided it was best to stop and move on to something else.

Perhaps another time, with a different story and more engaging characters, I would be more inclined to see it through to the end.

Franzen is indeed one of the most highly regarded authors, and justifiably so. However, this initial work, published when he was still in his twenties, shows a writer in the process of refining his skills. The book, which could and should have been significantly shorter than its meandering 517 pages, has descriptive passages that, while often engaging, sometimes drag on. There are also numerous scenes and characters (literally dozens) that seem unnecessary. Classified as dark comedy, I perceive it more as theater of the absurd. After the first quarter of the book, which introduced so many characters that I struggled to distinguish them all, I did appreciate Franzen's development of the three conflicted Probsts (mom, dad, and daughter). However, characters like Singh and the general were more caricatures than realistic portrayals. Additionally, why were so many of the characters evil and unlikable, especially those with dark skin? Franzen's characterizations of Indians and African-Americans seemed to be those of a writer who hadn't spent much time interacting with people of color, and I was put off and somewhat creeped out by his depiction of non-white characters. As a novel about civics, government, business, and everyday American life, it also fell short. When Franzen attempted to make broad statements about St. Louis and America in general, his themes often failed to resonate with me. Is everyone in real life constantly seeking an opportunity to seize power and increase wealth at the expense of others? Franzen's talents (his vivid imagination, his captivating prose) were on display here but in a rather undisciplined manner. Later, as he learned to restrain himself and approach his craft with more subtlety and treat his characters with more empathy, Franzen's writing became some of the most acclaimed in American literature. I don't agree with the critics who considered this an outstanding debut novel. In my opinion, this was a promising yet overall inauspicious first effort.

Couldn't get into this!

This simple sentence expresses a sense of frustration or inability to engage with something. It might refer to a book that one just can't seem to get interested in, a movie that fails to capture one's attention, or a task that seems too difficult or unappealing.

When we say "couldn't get into this," we are often indicating that we have made an effort to understand or participate, but for some reason, it just isn't clicking. It could be due to a lack of prior knowledge or experience, a mismatch in personal interests, or simply a bad first impression.

However, just because we couldn't get into something at first doesn't mean we should give up entirely. Sometimes, it takes a second look, a different approach, or a bit more time and effort to discover the hidden value or enjoyment in a particular thing.

So, the next time you find yourself saying "couldn't get into this," don't be too quick to write it off. Instead, consider giving it another chance and see if you can find a way to make it more engaging and meaningful for you.

I conducted research on the Internet regarding the book. I read the praiseworthy comments and the laudatory characteristics (such as "classic"). But I can't say that I was excited by the "terrible child" of modern American literature. I tried, I can't say that I didn't try. For six days, I made trips from couch to couch until I gave up the attempt to finish this bulky book (on page 342).

St. Louis is in decline. From the fourth position it held on the list of the most important cities in the US, it drops to the twenty-seventh. So the authorities decide to appoint S. Jamu, a young Indian, as the head of the local police. Ambitious, the new police chief aims for the economic integration of the center with the periphery of St. Louis. Thus, she clashes with the builder Martin Prompst. Using illegal means against him (she will have his dog killed, his wife evicted), she tries to achieve her goals.

Chaotic narration and belated realism. Reading the book is a chore, and as I learned, it is also the author's debut. The reader has to make a lot of effort not to be distracted and to distinguish the characters who pass by on the pages. Unconnected sentences, long, without a comma, without a full stop.

I don't know if this lack of organization is due to my own inadequacy or the fact that Franzen wrote it at a young age. Anyway, a week of reading was wasted. I want my week back!

Twenty Seventh City was reportedly trimmed down by nearly half, resulting in a still-bulky 500+ pages. As I made my way through the book, part of me craved to read the full story. There were characters and plot arcs that were clearly sacrificed in the editing process, yet their traces remained tantalizingly throughout. I can only judge what was published, and the plot arc given to the novel's two black characters was disappointingly thin, considering the central role of black Saint Louis in the plot. The lack of black agency on display could be seen as an accurate portrayal of the decision-making of Saint Louis' robber baron elite, which Franzen describes in harrowing detail. However, the novel often refers to the importance of black community leadership and the hinted-at black opposition to Jammu's gentrifying plans. But aside from one nightclub scene, the reader sees none of this, leaving us feeling as if we're missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

While the characters were engaging, each in their own mostly-but-not-completely despicable way, it was the politics that truly piqued my interest. It's a pity that Franzen's subsequent novels are more character-driven, as he clearly has a talent for political thought. The political dynamics of Saint Louis' desire for national recognition drive the story more than the actions of Probst or Jammu. The novel presents the city and its rise as the collective fever dream of its people, with the collective making as many decisions as the individual characters, only to reveal the fallacy of this idea at the end. Followers of progressive Saint Louis politics will recognize many elements, especially the city-county merger, a long-term goal of the left. The artificial separation leads to an imbalance of tax dollars, with the county's wealthy funding exclusive services while the city's poor bear a higher tax burden. A merger would, in theory, be a major redistributive effort, benefiting the poor with only minor drawbacks for the rich, and also solving issues like police brutality and educational segregation.

Franzen's foresight in this novel is remarkable. The mock terrorist group and Singh's wire-tapping pre-dated 9/11 and the NSA scandals by a decade. However, the novel is not without flaws. I noticed Franzen's much-criticized misogyny, although it was (mostly) not too blatant. Nearly every woman in the book conforms to a certain archetype: attractive, neurotic, and sexually willing. Barbara's unacknowledged Stockholm syndrome after her captivity is particularly disturbing. Jammu's character is strong and complex, but a line about her promiscuity in her backstory was out of place. Additionally, every female character except Probst's daughter meets a tragic end. In conclusion, I thoroughly enjoyed this novel for its beautiful prose and incisive look at urban politics. I do worry that some details about Saint Louis' regional idiosyncrasies may not be fully explained, and non-natives may not enjoy it as much as I did. Despite the undertones of racial ignorance, I would still recommend it if you can wade through the Saint Louis-specific details and the novel's length.

This was Jonathan Franzen’s first novel, if I remember correctly.

Like a lot of first novels, it has its flaws. However, it also shows the promise of what was to come.

Just like many first novels, there’s something autobiographical about it. The 27th city is St. Louis, where Franzen grew up.

The book also features another of his passions, birdwatching. Although this has almost no role in the story except as one character’s hobby.

The story centers on the first Indian police chief, a woman hired after a successful period in Delhi. There is a developing plot of a real estate conspiracy.

It is told through many characters as they’re followed. In the end, it was hard for me to find anyone truly likeable in the book except for the police chief. Although she isn’t really the center of the story.

There are various other Indians in the book, although not much culture. And there are black characters, although not much culture there either.

It felt like Franzen tried to avoid what he didn’t know much about culturally. The main focus was on the land and how urban renewal is frequently based on what’s in it for the various parties involved. That is to say, who can make money off it and how much.

It didn’t feel like it developed well and it reminded me of a much better book with a different theme but a list of characters involved in their own tug-of-war for power and influence, Tom Wolfe’s “The Vanity of the Bonfires.” (Later made into a film with an all-star cast but a flop nonetheless as the material was better suited for a miniseries than a film.)

In the end, the book is a somewhat enjoyable read but more interesting if you’re into Franzen and would like to see how he developed. Fortunately, better than this book.

Adoro Franzen, and he is truly one of my favorite writers.

However, with this particular book, he has really let me down.

One can still recognize his unique style, which is a redeeming factor.

Nevertheless, the story itself is extremely heavy and burdensome.

It's a pity because I had such high expectations.

I was looking forward to another captivating and thought-provoking work from him.

But unfortunately, this book didn't quite meet those expectations.

Maybe it's just a matter of personal taste, but for me, the weight of the story detracted from the overall enjoyment.

Despite this disappointment, I still have a great deal of respect for Franzen as a writer and will continue to follow his work in the hope that he will once again produce a masterpiece.