Sunday Book Review: Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer

I should be telling you about the fabulous events of yesterday, but they'll have to wait for another blogging moment. Today I finished Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer. It's the first book I have read that deals with the World Trade Center trauma of 9/11. I've circled around a number of the non-fiction accounts, but have just not been able to bring myself to read them. This story is fiction and wonderfully written. It's one of those works that grabs you on page one and you just don't want to set it aside until you are finished. In fact, I think I will have to put it on my list of all-time favorite books... right up there with A Prayer for Owen Meany and We Were the Mulvaneys.

Oskar Schell is a 9-year-old boy and the primarly narrator of this story. His father was in the World Trade Center on the day the planes hit. When Oskar discovers a key among his father's posessions, he begins a search to find out what it unlocks. His journey takes him all over the city of New York -- alphabetically by first name through everyone with the last name of Black. An enormous tale, perhaps, but told with such originality that it felt completely believable.

It is a captivating journey. Unread letters from Oskar's grandfather to his father tell an even bigger story. His grandparents, both survivors of the bombing of Dresden, tell the story, as well.

I am always amazed when a writer is able to craft words that so perfectly suck you in to the story. Each time I gained a bit of understanding, there was misunderstanding, as well. It was extremely complicated--like life--but not so complicated as to leave me baffled and wanting to quit.

Here's just a bit to give you an idea of Oskar's voice:

It was twelve weekends earlier that I'd gone to visit Abe Black in Coney Island. I'm very idealistic, but I knew I couldn't walk that far, so I took a cab. Even before we were out of Manhattan, I realized that the $7.68 in my wallet wasn't going to be enough. I don't know if you'd count it as a lie or not that I didn't say anything. It's just that I knew I had to get there, and there was no alternative. When the cab driver pulled over in front of the building, the meter said $76.50. I said, "Mr. Mahaltra, are you an optimist or a pessimist?" He said, "What?" I said, "Because unfortunately I only have seven dollars and sixty-eight cents." "Seven dollars?" "And sixty-eight cents." "This is not happening." "Unfortunately, it is. But if you give me your address, I promise I'll send you the rest." He put his head down on the steering wheel. I asked if he was OK. He said, "Keep your seven dollars and sixty-eight cents." I said, "I promise I'll send you the money. I promise." He handed me his card, which was actually the card of a dentist, but he had written his address on the other side. Then he said something in some other language that wasn't French. "Are you mad at me?"

Oskar did send the cab driver the money.

When I finished this story and spent some time wiping away the tears, I thought for a long time about what the story was about. I decided it was a pretty clear moral. It was about living and loving fearlessly. You just never know when your last moment will be.