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17 of 18 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A stunning first novel stuffed with character and incident, 4 Sep 2003
Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections caused a pretty big stir in the US about eighteen months ago; so big that ripples made it across the Atlantic well before the book was published in the UK. Whatever your view of the hype, the book was better than it led you to believe. It read like a masterpiece. Preternaturally composed and insightful. So real that is scared you just describing the inside of a house. But, with that bravura performance yet to come, what of Franzen's earlier fiction? The Twenty-seventh City, first published in 1988 and set four years earlier, has recently been re-released, riding the wave of literary commotion caused by his bestseller. It is a long debut novel about the city of St Louis, once a top-five centre of economic and cultural importance, listed right up there with New York and Boston, but now, in the mid-eighties, falling rapidly down the list of grand American cities. The St Louis arch is, in this book, the only thing that stands out about the city, and even that seems merely to awe residents, whilst those from out of state only turn their attention when the Cardinals make the play-offs in baseball's Major League. Faded glories are apt to be burnished, though, and St Louis is about to undergo a transformation. The arrival of S. Jammu, an American-born Bombay police chief (distantly related to Indira Ghandi) who is installed as the new local head of police, heralds a timely change in fortunes. She has her eye on much more than just crime, however, and under cover of her charm and her outstanding political abilities a wide-ranging conspiracy touches all levels of city society, polishing everything up as it goes. Franzen draws a wonderfully entertaining, vibrant picture of a local business community unable to shift itself out of a slump. A mass of interweaving characters flit in and out of the conspiracy, very few of them able to comprehend what is going on. There is a real pull of mystery here. Reading it you are never sure quite who is in charge, and whether those who claim to know something really do or not. Jammu, the arch politician, even seems as though she might be too eager to believe her own publicity and had not managed to keep her eye on the ball. All this is as it should be, of course. The Twenty-seventh City is a great, typically American novel about he sprawl of the urban environment, inflated by wonderful characters, told with gusto and style. But it is also a bit of a thriller, with the reader forever guessing who exactly is up to what. Going back to this, Franzen's debut, after reading his masterful third novel, is a decision fraught with peril. It is, so often, a disappointment to read an author you love when he was younger and less assured. And it is fair to say that The Twenty-seventh City is not in the same league as The Corrections. It does not have that same microscopic emotional honesty, but is much more fun to read. It is a romp. A great, city-wide game of spy and counterspy, a confection of dodgy deals and morally upright businessmen, a bounding account of terrorism, kidnapping, romantic affairs and unhealthy sexual obsession. There is so much that is so alive in these pages that in fact it is easy to forget what else Franzen has written. And this fact alone marks his first novel with the touch of greatness. Greatness to come perhaps, but minor brilliance even to begin.
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