Before the book even hit the stores, women authors cried foul when Jonathan Franzen got good reviews. We’re talking major authors here. Best seller Jodi Picoult, the renowned Jane Smiley, and first-Oprah-book-author-ever Jacqueline Mitchard to name a few.
I’m no friend of Jonathan Franzen. Once he treated Oprah and her book club with contempt those years ago, that was it. Nobody disses my Oprah and gets away with it. What a little snot. Of course, Oprah was equally snotty in her passive aggressive “I don’t wish to make anyone uncomfortable so I will retract the invitation.” That’s just a polite girl’s way of saying, “Oh yeah? Well I didn’t want you on my show anyway.” When he became the cast out underdog, I liked him again. Then he wrote that snide article in the New Yorker, which was really funny I have to admit, so I had to like him even more. In contests like these, the writer always does get the last word. But I digress.
In spite of Franzen’s ego-driven personality (I admit this is just a guess because in fact I have never met the man but let’s just say he’s famous and having worked with many famous people I’m in a position to know), the man wrote a brilliant book with “Freedom.” Brilliant. He created a female protagonist, so driven and so flawed, the fact she doesn’t seem to care about anyone else but her damned self doesn’t prevent us from falling a little bit in love with her.
Why is it that someone else’s success brings out the worst in us? The writers who complain about his favorable notices have gotten plenty of favorable notices themselves. So what’s up? I saw the same thing in Bette Midler when all she wanted to be was Cher. Really.
With a nod to my women writer friends, I know, it’s easy for me to give him his due because I’m not competing for his market. I get that. Many’s the time I gnashed my teeth over someone “stupid” getting the job over me, or bemoaning the “old boy” network. I’m not saying gender bias doesn’t exist. It does. Life isn’t fair. The point is, it doesn’t do any good to dwell on it and define yourself by it, not one bit. It’s just a waste of your not inconsiderable talent.
So Ladies, the guy wrote a fantastic book. Put on your Big Girl Panties and deal with it. Get back to work.
Dear Writer:

