Jonathan Franzen, the literary titan behind the acclaimed The Corrections and Freedom, once again stirred anticipation with his 2015 novel, Purity. After a summer of eager waiting fueled by ecstatic reviews promising a “propulsive” and “exhilarating” read, I, like many, dove into its pages with high expectations. However, what began with excitement gradually morphed into exasperation. The characters felt distant, their dilemmas unengaging, and the narrative detours, like the subplot involving stolen nukes, seemed increasingly pointless. Yet, I pressed on, reserving final judgment until the very end.
It was in the novel’s closing pages that a particular detail snagged my attention, a detail so jarring it overshadowed the preceding 561 pages. As the protagonist, Purity “Pip” Tyler, enjoys a fleeting escape from her turbulent family with her new boyfriend, the evening culminates in a restaurant where a cover band is playing. Then, on the penultimate page, the unexpected happens:
Just when it was time to be leaving, the band launched into a must-dance song, the soul-sister song.
“Hate the lyrics,” Jason said, dancing. “Hate the cooptation for a car commercial. And yet—”
“Great song,” Pip said, dancing.
They danced for half an hour while the rain came down and the San Lorenzo rose.
This seemingly innocuous scene, upon closer examination, reveals a perplexing and, dare I say, problematic choice: Pip, the character we are presumably meant to connect with, declares Train’s widely-derided hit, “Hey, Soul Sister,” a “great song.” This moment, intended to depict carefree joy, instead throws the entire scene, and perhaps a sliver of the novel itself, into question.
Identifying “The Soul-Sister Song”: Case Closed on Train’s “Hey, Soul Sister”
Before delving deeper into the implications of this musical selection, let’s address the elephant in the room: Is there any ambiguity about which song Franzen is referencing as “the soul-sister song”? While a few songs contain the phrase “soul sister,” context clues firmly point to Train’s inescapable 2009 hit.
One might consider “Lady Marmalade” with its iconic opening, “Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister.” However, these lyrics, while memorable, are not the song’s central focus, making it unlikely to be dubbed the “soul-sister song.” Disco enthusiasts might propose “Soul Sister” or even Ike and Tina Turner’s “Bold Soul Sister.” Yet, these tracks lack the immediate recognizability for a contemporary twentysomething couple and, crucially, haven’t been as ubiquitously used in advertising, a point explicitly mentioned in the novel excerpt.
This leaves us squarely with “Hey, Soul Sister.” This song, a certified megahit from 2009, fits perfectly into the likely repertoire of a cover band aiming for broad appeal. Adding to the circumstantial evidence, Train hails from San Francisco, aligning with the Northern California setting of the scene in Purity. Furthermore, “Hey, Soul Sister”‘s pervasive presence in commercials was so pronounced it even spawned a now-dormant Tumblr dedicated to protesting its overuse. The evidence overwhelmingly indicates that Franzen’s “soul-sister song” is indeed Train’s “Hey, Soul Sister.”
Deconstructing the Lyrics and the “Co-optation” Claim
Even within the novel excerpt itself, there’s a sliver of acknowledgment of the song’s questionable quality. Jason, Pip’s boyfriend, prefaces his enjoyment with, “Hate the lyrics… Hate the cooptation for a car commercial. And yet—”. This fleeting critique hints at the widespread disdain for the song’s lyrical content. Indeed, finding a more cringeworthy line in a popular song than “My heart is bound to beat/ Right out of my untrimmed chest” is a challenge. The rhyme of “soul sister” with “Mr. Mister” further solidifies the lyrical awkwardness. Train’s frontman, Pat Monahan, even revealed the song’s inspiration stemmed from his imagined experience of Burning Man, a detail that somehow makes the lyrics even more perplexing. Yes, Jason, the lyrics are undeniably awful.
However, Jason’s subsequent lament about commercial “co-optation” reveals a deeper misunderstanding, or perhaps a deliberate misdirection by Franzen through his character. To suggest “Hey, Soul Sister” was co-opted for commercials implies it possessed an original, uncommercial “purity.” But Train’s musical output, including “Hey, Soul Sister,” is arguably designed for soundtracks and advertisements. The song wasn’t corrupted by commercial use; it was arguably born for it.
“Great Song” or Soundtrack of Terrible Taste? The Central Question of Pip’s Preference
While subjective musical taste allows for disagreement – one person’s guilty pleasure is another’s genuine aversion – the central question isn’t whether “Hey, Soul Sister” is objectively “great.” The Village Voice, in fact, famously declared it the worst song of 2010. Let’s grant Pip and Jason the benefit of the doubt and assume they genuinely enjoy it. This might simply indicate they possess questionable taste in music. Fair enough. Taste is subjective.
However, the more significant issue is the assertion that it’s a “must-dance song.” This is not a matter of opinion; it’s a factual misrepresentation. “Hey, Soul Sister,” with its mid-tempo, saccharine melody, is hardly a dance floor igniter. It’s background music at best, the soundtrack to grocery shopping or waiting on hold. To characterize it as a “must-dance song” in a climactic scene of joy and connection strains credulity.
Imagine Purity as a film. If a director, aiming for similar intellectual and artistic heights as Franzen, chose “Hey, Soul Sister” for a pivotal scene of emotional release, it would be widely considered an egregious error, a tone-deaf choice undermining the scene’s intended impact. So, is Franzen intentionally employing irony here? Is the “Hey, Soul Sister” selection meant to reveal something crucial about Pip’s character?
Irony or Oversight? Decoding Franzen’s Intent and Pip’s Character
If Franzen’s choice is deliberate, aiming for irony or character development, the intended meaning remains elusive. The suggestion, offered by Franzen’s friend and mentee, author Nell Zink, is that it’s a commentary on hipster pretension, a way for Pip and Jason to momentarily shed snobbery and embrace the present.
While this interpretation offers a potential explanation, it feels somewhat strained. Neither Pip nor Jason is portrayed as particularly snobbish to begin with. Furthermore, “Hey, Soul Sister” isn’t some obscure guilty pleasure that cool individuals secretly enjoy. Disliking Train, and “Hey, Soul Sister” in particular, is a mainstream, almost default position. In fact, inverting the argument, perhaps embracing Train ironically would be the truly hipster move. (Interestingly, music critic Greil Marcus has professed a fondness for “Hey, Soul Sister,” adding another layer to the debate).
Franzen himself, in an interview prior to Purity‘s release, discussed his attempts to connect with younger generations, even considering adopting an Iraqi war orphan to bridge the generational gap. While these efforts might be commendable, Purity, particularly this scene, suggests a continued disconnect. The choice of “Hey, Soul Sister” as a song of joyful abandon for young characters reads not as insightful commentary, but as a misstep, a jarring note in an otherwise meticulously crafted, if ultimately flawed, novel.
Ultimately, while Franzen’s intention remains somewhat ambiguous, the impact of “Hey, Soul Sister” in Purity is undeniable. It’s a moment that pulls the reader out of the narrative, prompting questions not about the characters’ joy, but about the author’s judgment. In a novel striving for depth and complexity, the selection of such a shallow and widely-mocked song as a soundtrack to a supposedly meaningful scene feels less like intentional irony and more like a significant miscalculation. The brutal truth is, Franzen could have chosen any song to underscore this pivotal moment, and he landed on “Hey, Soul Sister.” The choice, whether intentional or not, speaks volumes, and not necessarily in the way the novel might have intended.
