5/5 stars
I was completely blown away by this book, but whilst it is easy to read it is not an easy read; the reader’s emotions are dragged through a mangle and handed back at the end with no apologies. The close and frequently painful intimacy of the first person narrative takes the reader on a roller-coaster ride from Charlie’s slow and foggy genesis to his pinnacle of achievement and then, inevitably, all the way back again.
I can’t help but make comparisons between this book and Elizabeth Moon’s The Speed of Dark that I read six months ago. Both books deal with people with learning difficulties; Keyes’ empathy with retards (written in the ‘60s remember) and Moon’s with autistics is similar in that both books make the point that, despite the way in which so many people treat these unfortunates, they are humans and deserve the same respect and consideration as any other human. Moon focuses more on her protagonist’s life as an autistic working out whether he wants the ‘cure,’ Keyes focus more on the changes that come after the ‘cure.’ Both treat the cure with caution - suspicion even - to have a rebirth somebody must first die. Moon’s original Lou and Keyes’ original Charlie are left behind, effectively killed by the ‘cure,’ and replaced with new versions; smarter yes, but no longer able to relate to their old friends and those old friends no longer see the person they had known. This bittersweet mixture of achievement and loss does not make for light reading; it obliges you to pause and consider your own attitudes towards such people which can never be a bad thing.
Keyes’ writing throughout the book is masterful. The ‘progris riports’ narrative of the retarded Charlie is beautifully constructed; I have read a number of books written in an illiterate, pigeon English but never as well done as here (sorry Banksie, though I loved Feersum Endjinn, Mr Keyes has done a better job). The language and spelling are clearly illiterate and yet easy to read. What is more remarkable is the change as Charlie’s intelligence increases; there is nothing abrupt, just a gradual shift to better spelling, better sentence construction and more sophisticated vocabulary, and more sophisticated thinking. The changes in Charlie’s character are even more profound but the reader can’t help but feel sorry for the lost innocence of the old Charlie. This latter change is beautifully highlighted by Charlie’s changing relationship with his original teacher Miss Kinnian.
A beautiful, haunting book that I’m not ashamed to admit had me reaching for the tissues. It will be going onto my to-reread list.
I was completely blown away by this book, but whilst it is easy to read it is not an easy read; the reader’s emotions are dragged through a mangle and handed back at the end with no apologies. The close and frequently painful intimacy of the first person narrative takes the reader on a roller-coaster ride from Charlie’s slow and foggy genesis to his pinnacle of achievement and then, inevitably, all the way back again.
I can’t help but make comparisons between this book and Elizabeth Moon’s The Speed of Dark that I read six months ago. Both books deal with people with learning difficulties; Keyes’ empathy with retards (written in the ‘60s remember) and Moon’s with autistics is similar in that both books make the point that, despite the way in which so many people treat these unfortunates, they are humans and deserve the same respect and consideration as any other human. Moon focuses more on her protagonist’s life as an autistic working out whether he wants the ‘cure,’ Keyes focus more on the changes that come after the ‘cure.’ Both treat the cure with caution - suspicion even - to have a rebirth somebody must first die. Moon’s original Lou and Keyes’ original Charlie are left behind, effectively killed by the ‘cure,’ and replaced with new versions; smarter yes, but no longer able to relate to their old friends and those old friends no longer see the person they had known. This bittersweet mixture of achievement and loss does not make for light reading; it obliges you to pause and consider your own attitudes towards such people which can never be a bad thing.
Keyes’ writing throughout the book is masterful. The ‘progris riports’ narrative of the retarded Charlie is beautifully constructed; I have read a number of books written in an illiterate, pigeon English but never as well done as here (sorry Banksie, though I loved Feersum Endjinn, Mr Keyes has done a better job). The language and spelling are clearly illiterate and yet easy to read. What is more remarkable is the change as Charlie’s intelligence increases; there is nothing abrupt, just a gradual shift to better spelling, better sentence construction and more sophisticated vocabulary, and more sophisticated thinking. The changes in Charlie’s character are even more profound but the reader can’t help but feel sorry for the lost innocence of the old Charlie. This latter change is beautifully highlighted by Charlie’s changing relationship with his original teacher Miss Kinnian.
A beautiful, haunting book that I’m not ashamed to admit had me reaching for the tissues. It will be going onto my to-reread list.
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