[Book Review] Between Oblivion and Connection: What 'Flowers for Algernon' Asks of Us
Introduction: A Story That Opens in the Dead of Night
When wrapped in the silence of the night, we find it easier to listen to the voices deep within our hearts that we usually overlook. After everyone has fallen asleep, questions and memories within us sometimes suddenly surface. There is a book perfect for such a night: Daniel Keyes' 'Flowers for Algernon' (Hayakawa Publishing). Published in 1966, it is a masterpiece that continues to be read to this day.
This story is told through the plot of Charlie Gordon, a young man with an intellectual disability who temporarily becomes a genius through the power of science, only to eventually return to his former self. If one follows only the plot, it might fall into the category of science fiction. However, what is depicted here is the softest and most fragile part of human existence. Memory and identity, as well as human connection and the desire for approval. When read late at night, this story strikes home even more deeply as a problem of our own.
In the following, while looking back at the story (including spoilers), I would like to consider the themes hidden within it from two perspectives: 'Memory and Identity' and 'Desire for Approval and Human Relationships'.
Synopsis: The Trajectory of Charlie Gordon
Charlie Before the Surgery
The protagonist of the story, Charlie Gordon, is a 32-year-old man. His IQ is 68, and he cannot read or write very well. Even so, he holds a strong wish: 'I want to be smarter. If I am, everyone will surely like me.' He works at a bakery during the day and attends a learning class taught by Miss Alice Kinnian at night. His earnestness comes through even in the diary entries written with poor spelling.
The Beginning of the Experiment and Algernon
Charlie is chosen as a subject for a new surgery by the scientists Dr. Strauss and Professor Nemur. A white mouse named 'Algernon,' who had already undergone the same surgery, has seen his intelligence increase dramatically, and that success story hinted at Charlie's future. At first, Charlie is disappointed by the lack of change, but gradually his thinking becomes clear, and his speed of absorbing knowledge increases phenomenally. Eventually, he begins to beat Algernon in maze challenges, and his world is transformed.
The Acquisition of Intelligence and Isolation
As his intelligence increases, Charlie comes to understand the reality he could not see before. He realizes that his coworkers at the bakery were making a laughingstock of him behind his back while pretending to be his friends. That discovery is stinging and drives him into loneliness. The friendship he once believed in was actually built upon contempt. Gaining intelligence was, at the same time, losing innocent happiness.
The Liberation of Love and Memory
His relationship with his teacher, Alice, deepens along with the growth of his intelligence. However, at the same time, repressed memories overflow and torment him. In his childhood, his mother could not accept her son's disability and drove him away with strong rejection and violence. His father tried to protect him, but the family gradually fell apart. Having gained intelligence, Charlie is forced to face the 'old Charlie' who had been painfully remembered and buried deep in oblivion.
The Descent from the Peak
Eventually, Charlie comes to understand the situation more sharply than the scientists themselves. He is outraged by the researchers who treat him as a 'result' to be put on display at academic conferences, and he releases Algernon and flees. Afterward, having thoroughly conducted his own research, Charlie discovers that there is a fatal flaw in the experiment. The Algernon-Gordon Effect—the law that an increase in intelligence must inevitably turn toward regression. The sight of Algernon rapidly weakening and dying reflected his own future.
Things Being Lost
As the regression begins, Charlie loses the language and knowledge he once gained, one by one. Even so, he seeks connection with others until the very end and confirms his love with Alice. Feeling that he had 'gained a lifetime's worth of love,' he tasted a certain, albeit brief, happiness. When he returned to the bakery, the scene where the coworkers who once laughed at him now protected and defended him was symbolic. People change, and bonds sprout. There is something that connects people that exists apart from intelligence.
The Final Wish
Eventually, having lost almost all his intelligence, Charlie decides to enter an institution. And in his final diary entry, he writes: Please, put some flowers on Algernon's grave. That single sentence symbolizes the human kindness that remains, transcending everything he gained and then lost.
Memory and Identity
Looking back at Charlie's story, what stands out first is the relationship between 'memory' and 'identity.' As he gains intelligence through surgery, he simultaneously recalls his long-forgotten past one after another. His mother's rejection, his father's conflict, the distance from his sister—these were unbearable pains for him, yet they were also the elements that shaped who he was.
The improvement of his intelligence was not merely an increase in ability. It was the act of reinterpreting the meaning of events he once could not understand by connecting them with his own memories. This was the reality of gaining 'wisdom.' For instance, the memory of his coworkers at the bakery laughing at him, which he once perceived as 'everyone is my friend,' resurfaced later as a cruel reality. Increasing the resolution of one's memory sometimes strips away happiness.
Yet, at the same time, within that pain, Charlie discovers a 'new self.' By comparing past trauma with his knowledge and turning his emotions into words, what were once just 'wounds' are reconstructed into a 'story.' His journey teaches us that identity is not merely the sum of one's abilities, but something woven through the reinterpretation of memory.
Even when he eventually lost his intelligence and returned to being the 'old Charlie,' he did not fully revert to who he was before. His language became clumsy, and the handwriting in his diary began to crumble. However, the sense of love and forgiveness he had once known remained deep within him. This shows that even if the content of memory fades, the experience settles deep in the heart and continues to influence one's personality.
The same thing happens in our daily lives. Even if we forget past events, the pain or joy we felt there remains unconsciously, shaping our current choices and behaviors. Or, when we look back at old diaries or photographs, we might be surprised, wondering, 'Was this really me?' There is a dialogue between the 'past me' and the 'present me.' Just as Charlie was torn between the 'old Charlie' and the 'new Charlie' but eventually integrated them, we too continue to update our existence while swaying with our memories.
Perhaps this novel is perfect for reading late at night because of this quiet inquiry. Memories may cause us suffering, but without them, we cannot tell our own stories. The gentle kindness Charlie showed at the end is a state he could only reach because he had passed through the pain of memory.
The Desire for Approval and Human Connection
Another core theme is the issue of the desire for approval that everyone carries. The reason Charlie underwent the surgery was simple: a child-like wish that 'if I become smart, everyone will like me.' His earnestness is pure, and it reveals a fundamental human desire.
However, the reality he faced after gaining intelligence was the opposite of what he expected. Scientists treated him as a 'success story' and put him on display at conferences. His coworkers at the bakery distanced themselves out of fear and jealousy, leaving him with no place in the workplace. While his high intelligence drew praise, it simultaneously created walls and left him lonely. There is a danger in 'approval through achievement.' Even if people are praised for their results or abilities, it does not necessarily lead to the peace of mind that comes from being 'accepted for who you are.'
What Charlie truly wanted was simply 'understanding.' He wanted to be treated as a human being, not a laughingstock, before he had intelligence. He wanted to be seen as an equal, not a genius or an experimental subject, after he gained it. Ultimately, the earnest wish he kept seeking was to be 'accepted just as I am.'
This point resonates with us in the modern age. 'Likes' on social media, follower counts, achievements at work or school—these things provide temporary comfort, but they cannot fundamentally satisfy the desire for approval. In fact, they often invite comparison and competition, sometimes even deepening loneliness. Charlie's isolation is like a mirror of modern society.
Yet, the story leaves room for hope. After losing his intelligence and returning to the bakery, Charlie is protected by the coworkers who once laughed at him. No one mocked him anymore. They accepted him as one of their own. Here lies a simple, warm connection that cannot be measured by achievements or abilities.
Furthermore, we must not forget his relationship with Alice. Alice watched over him and showed him love until the very end, even as his intelligence began to regress. Charlie says that although it was for a short time, he 'gained a lifetime's worth of love.' The love that accepts a person as a person was what ultimately supported him.
This story teaches us that the desire for approval is not just a 'craving,' but a bridge that connects people. We wish to be recognized by someone not because we want to show off our abilities, but because we want to connect from the heart. What Charlie sought at the end was not fame or intelligence, but the small kindness of having flowers placed on Algernon's grave. It was the very wish everyone holds: to be watched over and remembered by others.
That is why his story resonates with us living in the modern world. In our daily lives, often tossed about by competition and evaluation, we tend to believe that 'we won't be accepted unless we achieve something.' But what truly supports people is not achievement, but understanding; not numbers, but empathy. When we close this book late at night, we quietly remember that.
Conclusion: What Remains in the Quiet Night
When you close 'Flowers for Algernon,' what remains in your heart is not a flashy science fiction dream. Rather, it is a quiet wish and a modest kindness. Charlie's final words, 'Please put some flowers on Algernon's grave,' transcend the results of a grand experiment and reflect human dignity and compassion for others.
Throughout the story, Charlie stood at the pinnacle of intelligence, eventually lost it, and returned to where he began. However, it was not a simple 'return to normal.' Deep within his heart, the love and forgiveness he had once known remained quietly. Even if knowledge and words fade, experience changes a person. Even if memories become blurred, the pain and warmth felt at that time settle deep within the personality, shaping the person we are today.
At the same time, the story speaks deeply about the desire for approval. People wish to be seen and understood by someone. Charlie's belief that 'if I become smart, I will be liked' was not so much a pursuit of intelligence itself, but a desire to be accepted as a person. However, even after gaining intelligence, his loneliness was not healed; instead, it only deepened. The peace he finally found came not from achievements or abilities, but from the warm gaze cast upon him by Alice and his coworkers at the bakery. In other words, what supports people is not evaluation or numbers, but empathy and understanding.
For us living in the modern age, this theme is by no means someone else's problem. The number of 'likes' on social media, achievements at work or school, daily comparisons—we tend to unknowingly entrust our approval to external metrics. However, Charlie's story quietly asks: isn't what we truly seek not numbers or status, but to be told, as a human being, that 'it is okay to be you'?
When you close the book late at night, you might suddenly think of those around you. Family, friends, former colleagues, or perhaps someone you just pass on the street. Can we hold for each of them the same 'heart to offer flowers' that Charlie wished for at the end? Even just remembering them in your mind is enough. Though invisible, that thought truly reconnects people to one another.
That is why 'Flowers for Algernon' continues to be read, its brilliance undimmed even after more than half a century. Even in our modern age, where scientific technology advances and topics like artificial intelligence and gene editing dominate, this story poses a universal question. A future that expands intelligence is becoming a reality, but is true happiness waiting for us there? Is it not, after all, 'memory' and 'connection' that make us human? Charlie's short journey teaches us this vividly.
When we close the pages in the quiet of the night, what remains in our hearts is not a grand theory, but the gentle wish of a single human being. To remember someone and share a small kindness. To cherish someone's existence as gently as offering flowers. This story teaches us that this is the most certain act that sustains human dignity.