Daniel Keyes' Flowers for Algernon first appeared as a short magazine story in 1960. The resulting acclaim, including the 1960 Hugo award for best science novelette, saw it translated for international audiences and re-manifested in a number of other media: as a motion picture production; a television miniseries; and an enlarged, novel-length version which is the focus of this write-up.
SPOILER ALERT
I wrote about what happens in the book.
Flowers for Algernon is the fictional chronology of retarded man Charlie Gordon, presented in a series of journal entries. The expanded version covers Gordon's life from his traumatic and puzzling childhood to the results of an experimental surgical procedure that triples his IQ. The journal entries which constitute the story are 'progress reports' penned by Charlie Gordon himself at the request of the science team responsible for the procedure. Accordingly, the first impression the reader gets of the situation is a muddled one: Gordon has the mind of a six-year-old.
Once the surgery is performed, the reader will note rapid and profound improvement. Charlie Gordon's mental capacity increases threefold, as promised. Although the sudden burst of intelligence is more than welcome, it places Gordon in a somewhat uncomfortable position - his new brain has a torturous thirst for knowledge, and Gordon himself, while creeping up on middle age, is still developmentally a child. Most importantly, Gordon's new-found clarity lends itself to more troubling discoveries, allowing for the first time lucid analysis of the past and the people who helped build it. There are details whose shock I will not wear away by relating here.
Charlie Gordon's role is a constant tragedy - both as a retardate and as a genius. Although his intelligence far surpasses that of every member of the science team, he is still regarded by certain team members as their creation. The Charlie Gordon of the past ceases to be a human being; the Charlie Gordon of the present can never be quite whole. Added to this is the knowledge that the surgery's effects may not be permanent - Gordon could revert to his old state, or perhaps become worse.
Gordon's progress is foreshadowed by a lab mouse, Algernon, that undergoes the same surgery and attains the same results. Upon observing signs of reversal in the mouse, Gordon learns enough to conduct research of his own on his condition, concluding that his brain power is indeed a temporary phenomenon. He even pinpoints the rate at which his mind will decay.
I recommend Flowers for Algernon almost unreservedly. I have heard complaints that the enlarged version of the story, the only version to which I have been exposed, contains too much psychological drama; the magazine-length version is in this respect (and possibly others) superior. In a similar vein, I can tell you that certain passages, in which Charlie Gordon becomes lost in thought, showcase fairly awkwardly his budding intellect and discovery of flowery language ... and that ultimately may or may not be a good thing. By contrast, the insular view of the world created by the journal format immerses the reader in a very real and moving way. Flowers for Algernon is intelligent, heartfelt, and original - an excellent couple days' read.
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