Photo-Illustration: New York Magazine “Here it is: Description of a Struggle.” Jonathan Franzen hands me a journal he’s found in a bin, a record of his day-to-day entries from the summer of 1998. We are in a storage annex next to his office, which is Spartan. There’s a small desk, a guitar on a stand. The curtains are drawn — he writes in the dim light; he even wrote, famously for a time, blindfolded. The writing studio is adjacent to the house he has built in Santa Cruz, California,