I was all set to begin reading "Freedom," but then I came across this book at the library book sale for just 50 cents and decided to give it a go. As I started reading, I found that there is a really engaging plot line regarding a mass-scale terrorism attack on Busch Stadium. What makes this particularly interesting is that it was written a full 13 years before 9/11. However, for the most part, I am thoroughly enjoying all of the references to familiar St. Louis locations. The story is set in this city, and I believe Franzen is a native. So far, there haven't been enough mentions of UCity, but of course, in the late 80s, UCity was still in a state of decline and nowhere near the vibrant and popular spot that it is today. It's fascinating to see how the city has changed over the years through the lens of this book.

Franzen's first novel is truly a remarkable piece of work.

It presents a slightly absurdist plot that takes place in the vibrant city of St. Louis.

The story unfolds in a unique and engaging way, captivating the reader from the very beginning.

With its vivid descriptions and well-developed characters, it offers a rich and immersive reading experience.

One can't help but be drawn into the world that Franzen has created, filled with its own set of quirks and idiosyncrasies.

The novel explores various themes and emotions, making it both thought-provoking and entertaining.

Whether you're a fan of literary fiction or simply looking for a good read, Franzen's first novel is definitely one to check out.

It has all the elements that make a great book - a compelling plot, interesting characters, and beautiful writing.

So, what more could you possibly want?

Is it up to me, then I love everything that Frenzen writes or does the book not deserve 4 ⭐️? This political thriller is exactly that and contains all that thrillers possess: uncertainty, many unusual twists, a bunch of characters and as such is ideal for some Hollywood adaptation. What is lacking is the expected “Frenzen touch”: there is no masterful portrayal of the characters, of the family above all, of some deep sense that explains why something happens to someone. Objectively a three, but considering that I didn't let go of the book from my hands, it deserves a four, because … Frenzen

I quit after reading just a few pages.

To be honest, I really didn't expect this book to be so uninteresting.

From the very beginning, it failed to capture my attention and engage me.

The writing style was rather dull, and the story seemed to lack any real substance or excitement.

I tried to push through, thinking that maybe it would get better as I went along, but alas, that was not the case.

After a while, I just couldn't take it anymore and decided to call it quits.

Bleaaaah fuck this book.

I'm sure there are many other great books out there waiting for me to discover, and I'm not going to waste any more time on this one.

Judging from the reviews on this site, this was a divisive debut novel by Franzen.

However, I absolutely loved it. For a long time, Franzen was hailed as the next great American novelist, and this reputation perhaps reached its peak with his award-winning and Oprah-approved The Corrections. At that time, I liked it well enough, but I still found myself wondering what I might be missing. After all, I didn't necessarily view him as the voice for a new literary generation.

Moreover, once his friendship with David Foster Wallace became widely known, he seemed to pick up some secondhand coolness. For a long time, the only thing I knew about this book was that Wallace was a fan of it, and that was a significant reason why I wanted to read it.

The Twenty-Seventh City is not only the best book I've read this year but probably one of the most complex and fulfilling debuts I've ever come across. I notice a lot of people making comparisons to Thomas Pynchon, but while reading this book, the author that came to my mind was Joseph Heller. Franzen manages to capture something innate about American life. There is a wealth of knowledge within these pages, and it is so richly detailed. It truly is Franzen's best work, and I sincerely wish he still wrote fiction in this remarkable way.

A 2.5

I am attempting to envision reading this book without prior acquaintance with Franzen. Given that it's his debut novel, my approach would have been distinct from what it is now, considering he is one of my favored authors. Would I have held a more favorable view, been less critical? Or perhaps I would have liked it less, deeming it a mess? I'm also grappling with the fact that the book was initially a whopping 1300 pages! Hats off to the editor who managed to condense it to 500.

Franzen's talent for delving into the inner workings of characters is evident here, albeit a touch unrefined. There were certain stretches and passages that truly felt like his style. His storytelling, which weaves in multiple characters to create a more comprehensive narrative, is quite remarkable. They intertwine yet somehow maintain their individuality. However, the characters in this book weren't overly compelling. I failed to establish the same connection with them as I did with those from his subsequent works. Moreover, there is a fair amount of withholding from the reader. For the first quarter of the book, I felt completely adrift as to what was transpiring.

But the most significant issue for me was the plot. I found it difficult to believe most of it. What was Jammu's ultimate objective? How did her and her accomplices' lives lead to this juncture? Why were the businessmen so passive? The stadium bomb was simply excessive. It would have surely attracted the full force of federal law enforcement. And nearly every resolution seemed rather contrived.

I contemplated why Franzen selected Indians as the foreign powers. The 80s were a decade marked by the fear of Japanese ascendancy, so he deliberately didn't use them. Maybe it was because Indians would still stand out in the predominantly white Midwest?

Nonetheless, the book is undeniably ambitious.

It's rather odd to witness Jonathan Franzen writing as if he has endured a mid-life crisis when, in fact, his first novel was published just as he was on the verge of turning thirty. The Twenty-Seventh City is a work that is rich in details and teeming with characters. It is both wearying and ambitious, meandering along incessantly, much like a comedian who struggles to reach the punch line. Nevertheless, one cannot help but be entertained and captivated by Franzen. His poignant sarcasm and his remarkable ability to give voice to his characters with such colloquialism (excluding the Indians, of course) are truly engaging. However, similar to most hyper-realist novels, The Twenty-Seventh City seems fated from the start. The conspiratorial plotline that Franzen sets in motion in the first chapter quickly fades in the reader's mind due to disbelief. Despite the somewhat watered-down characterization, the thriller aspect of the novel fails to blend seamlessly with its literary qualities. One cannot escape the feeling that, just like Martine Probst, a key character in the novel, one is being decidedly duped. After all, conspiracies are not meant to turn out to be true, and a certain character should not allow a stranger to enter her bedroom without protest. Still, with over 500 pages dedicated to a profound commentary on municipal politics in the American Midwest, The Twenty-Seventh City is a long and arduous journey that is worth undertaking, but only if one wishes to experience how interesting failures can ultimately work to the author's advantage later on.

My paperback copy of this novel, which I purchased used and left sitting on my shelf for years before finally pulling it down to read last week, has pages that are thin and frail. They clump together like wet cardboard whenever I try to turn them.

These clumps are both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, the page numbers seem to pass by quickly, making it feel like I'm making rapid progress. But on the other hand, it means that I often have to go back and trudge through unread pages, as if I've become lost in the woods and realize I'm walking in circles.

I would much rather be lost in the woods in the rain, walking in circles, than read another page of this book. Ugh.

Franzen seems to have painstakingly recorded every dull and disconnected detail of what must have been a very uneventful life in this overstuffed and lifeless novel. One can't help but wonder if he's even alive himself.

The novel is presented as a sort of literary thriller, but without any of the excitement or thrills that one would expect. Instead, it's like a never-ending gray drizzle falling on its cardboard characters as they meander through a plot that seems to have been borrowed from some other, perhaps better, book. Their dull quest to make a city part of a county is hardly the stuff of excitement. It's so uninteresting that it's almost comical.

And here's one last gripe. Has anyone else noticed that Franzen's novels all seem to follow the same basic formula? A wayward, headstrong teenage girl or an unsatisfied wife leads to the downfall of an upright father or husband? If you look closely, you can actually see the cynicism and misogyny oozing from the pages. But hey, some people liked it. Go figure.

For those who are confused about the tone of this book, it is essential to keep in mind that it is a farce.

Indeed, one can observe Franzen commencing to develop his trademark of fashioning deep characters with a combination of intentions and endearing weaknesses. However, some characters never quite come together and some are simply dropped (for instance, Duane never gets unmasked?). But who really cares? The enjoyment of the book lies in its plot that teeters on the very edge of plausibility.

Franzen endeavors to envision how the St. Louisans, his staid, conflicted yet conventional St. Louisans, would respond to terror, fires, kidnapping, spying, and political intrigue. Parts of it are truly humorous, in a rather ridiculous manner. Even the violence has a somewhat cartoonish aspect to it. This will either offend or simply disorient some readers.

Personally, I am attracted to the playful bitterness of Franzen and admire how he experiments with the "what if" scenarios that unfold within these pages. All St. Louisans and true Franzen fans should at least give this book a start. You will either take delight in the craziness or know immediately that it is not for you and should stop reading.

Scathing criticism is leveled at St. Louis in this work. Sadly, all the jabs that were relevant over 20 years ago still hold true today. However, I actually loved this aspect of the book. As for everything else? Well, sentence by sentence, it's great. After all, it's Franzen, and his prose is excellent. But the story? I'm not so sure. The brown people in the book are either depicted as terrorists or speak in rather flimsy ebonics, which just gives a slightly uncomfortable feeling. And the scene of the plane flying through the arch (Spoiler alert! As if you were going to read this anyway...) is quite laughable. BUT. Franzen himself has admitted how much this book doesn't stand the test of time. Obviously, he has produced much, much better work since writing this. He was in his mid-20s when he wrote this! I'm also in my mid-20s and I'm not even published. So.

Anyway, do read The Corrections, Freedom, Purity, and his nonfiction works. Just skip this one.

I am an unwavering Franzen fan. I adored "Freedom" and regarded "The Corrections" as a captivating character study book, even though I believed "Freedom" outshone it. However, this one is not on the same level as those two. Don't misunderstand me; I still derived enjoyment from it. But at times, it felt a bit of a chore. And if it weren't for the trust Franzen has established with me through his previous works, I'm not sure I would have persevered to the end.

The plot is an extensive conspiracy narrative set in St. Louis. Here, an Indian police chief (from India) devises a complex and often perplexing plan to merge St. Louis city and county, seizing as much power and influence as possible in the process. Similar to Franzen's other novels, the point of view shifts rapidly among the characters, and there is no distinct protagonist or antagonist. The shifting viewpoint is employed to reveal the flaws and hidden schemes of the numerous characters.

Her primary adversary/target is Martin Probst, a construction worker who is an icon in St. Louis for building the Arch. Probst's family and their numerous issues form a significant part of the story. As I could have anticipated, I think this is where Franzen excels. Even over 20 years ago, he was remarkable at writing about family dynamics.

To me, this book seemed overly massive (it was 517 pages with a very small typeface) and overly ambitious. Due to the large number of local governments, entities, and power brokers naturally involved in the governance of a city and county, he required a plethora of characters. For the most part, I didn't have difficulty keeping them straight, as some others complained. But the web of the conspiracy is so intricately woven that at times it's easy to混淆 one plot with another.

And then I have a few random points to make. Why on earth was there a constant mention of people being sick in this book? I kept expecting some sort of payoff, but it never materialized. This isn't exactly Chekov's Gun theory, but there were at least ten different characters who complained about having a bad cold. Strange. Also, in the beginning, Franzen makes it clear that this book is a work of fiction and any similarities to real life should not be taken as a commentary on the real St. Louis. Naturally, the thing that intrigues me the most is the comparison between this and real St. Louis. If anyone knows of any article that compares them, please let me know. Additionally, in "The Corrections" and "Freedom," I loved the way Franzen experimented with different writing styles. I found it refreshing. So, I guess it makes sense that this skill wasn't developed overnight and he had to refine it with some less-than-successful attempts at unique styles. This is where some of those less-than-successful styles are on display. My personal pet peeve was the device where he would write an entire sequence without indicating whose perspective it was being told from. By the end of the passage, I could always figure it out, but then I would have to go back and reread for a better understanding. That felt like a trick to me and a style for the sake of style, not an actually effective writing tool.

All in all, I thought this book was interesting, and I'm glad I read it. But be forewarned that it's no easy read and certainly not on par with "Freedom."

What follows is the intro to a (for now) abandoned attempt to a long piece on this novel that was based on some academic work (which can be found on my academia.edu page) that I had done on it. If you are on the fence about reading T27C, though, do consider clicking through to the Millions and LARB articles before making your decision!

When Jonathan Franzen's first novel The Twenty-Seventh City had its 25th anniversary re-issue in September 2013, it was almost as overlooked as it was upon its initial publication in 1988. While Eric Lundgren in The Millions penned a poignant and nostalgic reflection on the novel and its connection to St. Louis, and Nina Martyris contributed an excellent piece on the novel's complex portrayal of the Indian-American experience in the LARB, Paul Segal wrote in Slate of its many shortcomings. And that, as far as I could tell, was pretty much it.

The 27C certainly has its flaws, but it also does many things extremely well. If you're a fan of Don Delillo or Thomas Pynchon, you'll recognize their influence on the book, which endeavors to 'unveil' certain previously hidden or unacknowledged economic and sociological aspects of our lives. Although critics like James Wood would decry such attempts to go beyond the 'proper' scope of the novel (i.e., the exploration of the 'soul' of the isolated individual) as what Wood called 'hysterical realism', Franzen's novel largely succeeds in its aim of getting us to confront how our individuality is both predicated and threatened by vectors of power and history.

Lev Grossman, writing in Time Magazine, superbly captures the ambitions of books like this. He describes how these books attempt to gesture at the infinite, overabundant, and overwhelming complexity of reality, and how that complexity is increasingly forced upon us through electronic and other means. These books often end with the suggestion that they could have continued indefinitely, as the world's narrative resources are seemingly inexhaustible. You rarely encounter a character, even a minor one, without the impression that the story could follow them instead of the hero of the moment, and the result would be an equally rich and interesting novel. You can envision these books as endlessly branching trees of story, their branches dividing and dividing until the reader understands that they could branch and divide forever and still not fully capture the complexity of the world around them.

If you don't like these kinds of novels, don't read them. But if you do, The Twenty-Seventh City will open you up to considering, among other things, the role that capitalism plays in your life when you're not paying attention! Very few novels have attempted such a feat, and in this twenty-nine-year-old's first novel, we see many of the above characteristics employed with the maturity of a much more experienced writer.

Franzen's latest book, Purity, won't attempt any such feats: he's long since changed his mind about the kinds of things that fiction should be doing. Oh, I'll read it, and probably enjoy it well enough, but it probably won't linger in my mind the way The Twenty-Seventh City did – and still does, to this day.