Books
Book Review: “Crossroads” Is More Relevant Than It Seems
To readers under a certain age, Jonathan Franzen’s latest novel, Crossroads will seem like it belongs in a bookstore’s fantasy section. As is typical of Franzen’s works, the book centers around Midwestern liberals. Unlike his other heroes, these characters do not escape flyover country to join an environmental nonprofit or open a trendy restaurant. The Hildebrandts live, work, breathe, eat, sleep—among other things—in and around a Protestant church. These are white liberal churchgoers, a demographic practically unheard of in America today. It is only by setting the book in the 1970s that the author is able to get the reader to suspend disbelief.
The Hildebrandts are not just cultural Christians, holding on by some common thread so that grandparents can enjoy baptisms and first communions. Their patriarch, Russ Hildebrandt, is the pastor at First Reformed in the Chicago suburbs. In fact, both Russ and his wife are converts to that sect of Protestantism, each rejecting older Christian traditions for varying reasons. Most shocking to modern readers is the vibrancy of the church’s youth group, called “Crossroads,” from which the book gets its title. In New Prospect, Illinois, Crossroads is the place to be on a weekend night, whether you are a wannabe do-gooder or a popular long-haired, pot-smoking musician.
In 2021, most young people who consider themselves part of the social justice movement would not be caught dead inside a house of worship. Churches are seen as oppressive institutions in service of the patriarchy, and their influence on society is not to be trusted. In Crossroads, Franzen shows how that was not always the case, while simultaneously painting a scene of the last gasp of the Christian Left in America. One of the primary tensions in the book is between Russ, who uses biblical teachings to inform his bleeding heart, and Ambrose, the leader of the youth group, who infuses his sermons with what might be called Moral Therapeutic Deism—heavy on the moral therapy, light on the deism.
It is no spoiler to say that Ambrose wins that battle, a victory foretold by how little a role God and Jesus play in a book ostensibly about a clergyman and his family. Characters are constantly trying to “do the right thing,” but the timeworn axiom “What Would Jesus Do” never factors into their calculus. When any of the Hildebrandts do petition Jesus, he or she is looking for license to break one of the Ten Commandments. One of the great perks of liberal Christianity is its lack of strict rules. Of course, it is that very thing that makes it ultimately inessential to human life.
Although at first glance Franzen’s least relevant book, Crossroads benefits from being his least preachy. By setting it in the past, he assumes the reader is already familiar with issues like the Vietnam War and the plight of Native Americans. This gives him more space to explore the motivations of each of the characters, and as a result they are more fleshed out than some of his earlier creations. Two decades after The Corrections, Franzen has yet to reach its literary heights once again. Although the Hildebrandts are generally more likable than the Lamberts (and infinitely more likable than the protagonists of Freedom and Purity), the time and place of Crossroads are just too distant to have the same cultural force. Still, this is a very enjoyable novel, and Jonathan Franzen continues to prove why his novel releases function as literary events.