emma's Reviews > Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

i have a soft spot for jonathan safran foer.

this is true even though chances seem high that he is quite pretentious (shoutout to that natalie portman email correspondence, cringe both in content and in the fact that he thought they were in love because of it and left his poor wife (if she has a gofundme i'll truly donate. talk about a fate worse than death)).

it's true even though i've only read two of his books and will probably never know more than that.

and it's true in spite of the fact that in both books, his writing has been heavy-handed, and self-indulgent, and generally of the type of unrelenting style that makes it very difficult to lose yourself in the act of reading.

in short, this book is unbelievably, almost disarmingly pretentious, which is better at some points than others, but if you allow yourself to look past it and ignore certain perspectives entirely (yes that does mean half the book), it can still be a good time.

the flaws of safran foer's books — characters and scenes that border on the fantastical, a pervasive feeling of try-hard-iness (to coin a word) — are also their greatest strengths. in this book, this culminates in our dual points of view. oskar is so unforgettable, even if he is completely unrealistic, that it seems like an unforgivable crime that this book has other (far worse) perspectives.

but if you can ignore them, this book is a treat.

bottom line: this book is corny, and overwrought, and silly, and unrealistic, and i have a fondness for at least half of it anyway.

3.5

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original review

i reread this book as part of project five star, in which i reread old favorites and see if they're still favorites. the review from when this was one is below.

(view spoiler)[WARNING: EARNEST REVIEW AHEAD. Very genuine and emotional and generally gross.

I love Jonathan Safran Foer. I love him even though chances seem high that he is quite pretentious (have you read that New York Times piece made up of email correspondence between Natalie Portman and himself? Perma-cringe). I love him even though I’ve only read two of his books and may never read more than that. I love him even though absolutely the only thing I care to know about him is his writing.

When someone writes the way he does, there’s no response to have, for me, other than that.

The flaws of his books - characters and scenes that can border on the fantastical, a pervasive feeling of try-hard-iness (to coin a word) - are so easily overlooked. Not even, actually. I fell and fall so deeply in love with his writing that these things seem like positives too.

I like that our main character, Oskar Schell, feels a tad too big and vibrant for the world. It makes me love him harder, experience his too-big feelings more. I especially like his unbelievability because he’s surrounded by lovely mundanity: flawed but loving parents, countless beautiful and unremarkable people of New York.

I love, love, love his quest through the city to meet everyone he can with the last name Black. I like the impossibility of it, the various things that come together to make it “possible” when even those various things seem deeply unrealistic.

I like the sometimes-eye-rolly ways that the author plays with formatting and perspective and language. It doesn’t take me out. It wraps me up more.

Bottom line: I like all the things that make this book beautiful and completely one of a kind. Even the over-the-top things. (hide spoiler)]