Flowers for Algernon

Reading Flowers for Algernon is an exercise in surrealism, and I'll explain why in a moment.

     Flowers for Algernon, told through a series of progress reports and journal entries, is a story that delves into the complexities of the human condition.Charlie Gordon, a mentally retarded thirty-two-year-old man, is chosen by a team of scientists to undergo an experimental surgery designed to boost his intelligence. The scientists have a high degree of confidence in Charlie's chances, as they have already rested the procedure on a mouse, the eponymously named Algernon. The operation is supposed to increase the intelligence of the recipient threefold,turning both Charlie (who had an Intelligence Quotient of 70) and Algernon into geniuses.

     The operation is a complete success, and Charlie soon finds himself capable of actually learning and retaining information. He is thrilled, and takes to learning as a starving man would take to an all-you-can-eat buffet. However, complications soon arise in the form of nightmares and recollections that his now-advanced mind are able to process and understand where he previously could not.. Charlie has many a flashback into his childhood from the unique perspective of having a genius's view superimposed over the original perspective of his mentally handicapped self.

     In this way, I can relate to Charlie somewhat, and here's where the surrealism comes in...this is not my first time reading this book. I first encountered Flowers for Algernon in fifth grade, and had trouble reading it. My difficulty, unlike Charlie's, came not  from lack of intelligence,but lack of attention. As young and easily excitable (relatively speaking) as I was, I wanted to read books about Romance and Action and Sex and Magic. I'd pore over a classic every few weeks or so, but I rarely gave it the attention it deserved. However, Flowers for Algernon somehow stuck with me, and although I didn't enjoy it to the same degree as Harry Potter and the Sparkling Purple Buttplug, or whatever it is I was reading, it certainly got me thinking. Now, about seven years later, every few chapters I'll come across a scene that my younger self thought notable, or that I somehow still remember after all of these years, and I'll find myself plunged into the depths of my own mind on a journey to the past I didn't sign up for. The irony in this is that it's almost exactly what Charlie goes through in his own flashbacks. He'll be reminded of something and then be irrestably sucked into his subconscious, viewing memories that he didn't even know he had.

     I can relate to Charlie. Obviously, I never underwent an operation to boost my intelligence, but I know the sensation of feeling as if your mind and mental processes are beyond your control.

I'd compare it to quadriplegia, but quadriplegia isn't as bad.