Flowers for Algernon: Progress Report 14 Summary & Analysis

It’s a little too convenient that Charlie finds information about his family in the newspaper the day after his escape (nor is it remotely believable that a newspaper would include a family’s home address!), but Keyes can be forgiven for these plot holes: he’s moving the story toward a big confrontation between Charlie and his mother, during which Charlie will have to face his past and his conflicted feelings for his family.

Charlie seems to be learning the value of caution and discretion. Before, he wanted to dive into a relationship with Alice; here, he recognizes that interpersonal relationships take time to develop. As a result, he decides to wait before going to meet his family. His “emotional intelligence” is finally starting to catch up with his “book learning.”

The “fresh start” is an important theme in the second half of the book: Charlie has been born again, thanks to his brain surgery, but he’s not sure what kind of life he wants for himself. The only way for Charlie to decide is by trial and error.

It’s interesting that Charlie builds mazes for Algernon, when previously he’d criticized Burt for doing the same thing. But here it’s suggested that Charlie knows what Algernon needs, because it’s what he himself needs—intellectual stimulation, and companionship with an “equal.”

Fay is clearly an open, uninhibited woman: she’s comfortable with her sexuality, and doesn’t mind sharing it with other people. She’s also not particularly intellectual (there are no books in her apartment, it would seem). In a word, Fay is everything Charlie isn’t.

Charlie is trying out his “fresh start” with Fay. Charlie has spent his entire life being treated with suspicion (first for being disabled, then for being a genius), so it’s refreshing for him to find a woman who regards him as ordinary. He also starts learning to value other aspects of a person besides their IQ.

Charlie is being careful with his emotions, so he starts with the easiest reunion—his father, the man who acted as his protector. Interestingly, Matt doesn’t seem to exert remotely the same influence over Charlie’s adult behavior that Rose does—cruelty is more memorable than decency.

It’s no wonder than Charlie has repressed this memory for so long: he can’t stand to think that his own mother wanted him out of her life, and even dead. Charlie has always had a feeling of inadequacy and dissatisfaction with himself, and it was this that first led him to receive brain surgery. Now Charlie is identifying the source of his feeling, and hopefully eliminating it in the process.

Charlie’s first reunion with a family member ends on a rather disappointing note. There’s no tearful embrace; indeed, Matt doesn’t even know that there’s been a reunion. But even if Charlie doesn’t have the courage to reveal himself to his father, he’s made an important breakthrough today: he’s identified the source of his feelings of inadequacy, and recognized that he is fundamentally a different person now after the surgery.

Here, the link between Algernon and Charlie becomes even more obvious: Charlie is becoming more social and exploring his sexuality, just as Algernon is gaining another mouse for a companion.

Charlie comes to an ambiguous stage in his sexual maturity. He’s clearly capable of love and affection, but his feelings seem curiously separate from actual people, and he hasn’t overcome his sexual impotence yet.

It’s tempting to think of Fay as an early example of a “manic pixie dream girl”—a bubbly, impossibly adventurous woman whose sole purpose is to awaken feelings of vitality and liveliness in a male protagonist.

Charlie confirms there’s still a part of him that’s a child, and now this “old Charlie” even seems to become its own separate entity. Charlie has yet to resolve his psychological issues—he’ll have to meet his mother first.

Charlie indulges in feelings of sensuality: instead of trying to think, he celebrates the fact that he can feel. But this leads Charlie to an uneasy conclusion: he’s become a “normal” person who laughs at his intellectual inferiors, just as his coworkers used to laugh at him.

Charlie makes a big leap forward in his emotional and moral development: instead of indulging in sensuality or chasing his own happiness and fulfillment (essentially, asking whether ignorance is bliss or not), he now sees that his great talents also give him a responsibility for his fellow humans. The real test is whether or not he can follow through with these plans.

The first step toward solving a problem is admitting you have one—thus, it’s important that Charlie understands what’s wrong with him. By identifying the “old Charlie” inside him, Charlie begins to figure out how to rid himself of his mental affliction.

Charlie still has a hard time relating to women. Even when he’s attracted to a woman, he has to channel these feelings through another person—thus, he can’t feel attracted to for Alice without thinking of Fay. Keyes devotes a lot of the plot here to Charlie’s “sexual awakening,” something consistent with the Free Love movement of the 1960s. It’s also these scenes that have led the book to be banned in many places.

Charlie is trying to “run away from himself”—he’s so concerned about his sexual inadequacy that he tries to regress mentally; i.e., he gets himself drunk, hoping to forget all the anxiety and shame of his super-intelligent self.

This is a major breakthrough for Charlie, even if it isn’t truly a “solution” to his problem. Charlie is slowly growing accustomed to his childhood traumas—accepting them instead of fighting them. In short, Charlie is making peace with his inner child instead of trying to fight it. This is also a major milestone in Charlie’s story as a more traditional “coming of age” tale.

As we enter the final part of Keyes’ novel, we come back to where we started. Charlie has now forced himself to admit the truth: there’s a strong possibility that he’s going to lose his IQ (as he suggested to Professor Nemur at the Chicago conference) and regress to his former self. Charlie has been living a life in “fast-forward” for the past few months, so it’s only appropriate that now, Charlie tries to cram in as many experiences as possible before he experiences an “intellectual death.”

There’s something both inspiring and disturbing about this section: Charlie is curing his sexual neuroses, but in doing so he’s treating a woman as a mere object.

Fay, like Alice, is an important moral teacher for Charlie. Charlie can teach himself about math or science, but only by spending time with people like Fay does he learn the value of generosity, openness, and human connection.

Charlie is at the top of the intellectual pack, and he’s bored. Instead of devoting himself totally to his work, he indulges in sensual pleasure.

Fay is such an open, accepting woman that she doesn’t shun Charlie for his bizarre behavior, or even question him for it. It’s notable that so many of the women in this novel are selfless and rather one-dimensional: they exist to help Charlie.

Because Algernon and Charlie are so closely linked both mentally and symbolically, this feels like ominous foreshadowing for Charlie himself.