Flowers for Algernon.

I don't know how or why I didn't come by this book before, since it's such a classic. Even though I didn't know this was THE book, I was familiar with the plot: Charlie Gordon becomes a genius through an operation, until (mini-SPOILER, though you probably already know, too) the effects of the operation fades, and he goes back to being 'stupid'. The description of this parabol is fascinating, especially, in my opinion, on the way up. I don't know if a person like Charlie would relate, but it felt realistic, and quite frankly, heartbreaking. He goes through his memories, and, step by step, is forced to re-interpret them. More often than not he realises that people have been meaner to him that he could see the first time around. In my opinion, the author mastered the uneasy task to ascribe stupidity to his main character without being gimmicky or disrespectful.

For some reason, the downward half of the parabola didn't work for me in the same way, but I really think it was me and not the book, as most readers seem to have given in to tears at this stage. I also didn't love the way in which women and their relationships with Charlies are described but a) maybe it shows the book as a product of its times b) I suppose the point was to suggest that (extreme) intelligence goes hands in hands with loneliness.

Poignant, sad, and deeply insightful

I had been assigned a watered-down adaptation of this in Junior High, so I went into this with some knowledge of what the general arc would be. What I didn't expect is that I would be reading until the sun came up, bawling my eyes out, absolutely shaken.

From the very first page, I liked Charlie Gordon. He comes across as innocent and sweet, with good intentions and a very one-dimensional frame of reference to the world. There's a few moments where people ask Charlie things that made me chuckle, like his initial confusion at the Rorschach test, but his attitude is strangely endearing.

The prose in this book is phenomenal. The gradual narrative shift from crude writing to eloquent philosophical insight is kind of an amazing writing trick, and the development of Charlie's awareness is hypnotic to watch.

In a way, I was kind of reminded of the story of Faust, where a man tries to use his seemingly unlimited knowledge to get out of an inevitable outcome. I'd argue that Charlie is a far more sympathetic character, but watching his mind develop and deteriorate, along with his strained efforts to work against time, made for one hell of a roller coaster.

Beautiful, beautiful story. I haven't cried like that in a while.