N.B. This will likely include spoilers for the book Flowers for Algernon. If you haven't read it, ignore this poor man's review and take 2 hours of your life to enjoy a masterpiece.
I first read Flowers for Algernon in 2018. I had just finished university and begun to start my new role as a software engineer at an investment bank. I turned up on the first day solely focussed on completing a single month to earn my first substantial paycheque. Within a week I was already snowed under, attempting to learn Angular (don't), while observing the most horrible development practices I've since witnessed (database migrations using scripts in Excel, teams in India woken up at 3A.M. to fix an unused UI component, months of work planned in 5 day brainstorming sessions). With a rare moment of Sunday downtime, I went to my local library in search of a book, and stumbled upon a science fiction book for which I fell in love - Flowers for Algernon.
Charlie Gordon, a man with an IQ of 68, undergoes experimental surgery to triple his intelligence. The story is told through his progress reports, written before, during, and after the procedure. Initially his spelling and grammar are broken while the sentences are literal and hopeful. As the operation takes effect, the language sharpens, and Charlie begins to reanalyse prior encounters.
What the book does ruthlessly is play with your sympathy. At first you pity Charlie. Described through misspellings and misconceptions, he narrates his simplistic interactions with his colleagues at the bakery who openly mock, and curses his inability to comprehend their conversations. Gradually his intelligence grows, and he begins to find it increasingly difficult to connect emotionally with others. His relationships with his friends and co-workers fray; those who once teased, vote to ostracise him out of fear. At his intellectual peak he is cold, pedantic, and impatient. He dissects people as though they themselves are experiments, becoming isolated to all but the mouse Algernon used as the initial test subject. Keyes makes you hold all three versions simultaneously: the naive bakery worker, the brilliant researcher, and the man who can no longer connect to either world.
The clear theme is intelligence. The book never pretends that IQ is meaningless; Charlie's new mind is powerful and useful, focussed on ground-breaking research. The question is whether any of this makes his life better. In the beginning he insists he is happy. He has a job, friends at the bakery and a simple goal to be smarter. We can see the cruelty he misses, but he cannot, and his ignorance shields him. As he becomes clever enough to analyse his surroundings, he sees the jokes were bullying, his family were ashamed, and the doctors see him merely as a test subject. By the time Charlie reaches genius level he can out-argue everyone around him, yet is almost completely alone. His colleagues fear him, his love interest cannot keep up with him, and he ridicules the doctors who gave him his new mind. He obtains the life he thought he wanted and finds that it does not feel like living at all.
I don't know what's worse: to not know what you are and be happy, or to become what you've always wanted to be, and feel alone.