#this was an actual struggle to draw because i spliced 3 references together

[boing-o]

When hes writhing :-)

I drew Gee freaking out in FLW for @laing-caster!! His hair is black because I can't draw blonde hair ❤️

I am trying to get back into the swing of drawing everyday, so my asks are OPEN for drawing requests!! Give me asks please (please), I love interacting.

[brightbeautifulthings]

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

"There were things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him. So I buried them, and let them hurt me."

Year Read: 2019

Rating: 3/5

Context: I took a contemporary American fiction class that loosely centered on 9/11 stories, including novels like Don DeLillo's Falling Man and Thomas Pynchon's Bleeding Edge. Since Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close wasn't on the list, I can only conclude that not only did my favorite professor not like Foer's novel (which I doubt informed his choice overly much; he had a tendency to spit whenever he talked about Jonathan Franzen, yet Freedom was still on the book list), he also didn't consider it important enough to teach. I find this both sad and hilarious. I gravitate toward 9/11 novels because it's one of those events that divides American culture clearly into Before and After. I'm new to Foer's fiction, but I probably wouldn't put it on my list either. Trigger warnings: death, death of a parent, death of a child, suicide, PTSD, trauma, anxiety, terrorism, falling, body horror, burns, graphic images, some snobby comparisons to DFW, and a total failure to condense my thoughts into < 1,500 words.

About: Nine-year-old Oskar Schell is devastated by his father's death in the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. More than a year later, he discovers a key among his father's belongings that doesn't fit any lock in their apartment. It's in an envelope labeled Black. Estranged from his mother and unable to connect with other kids his age, Oskar devises a plan to meet every person named Black in New York City and ask them if they met his dad. He's determined to reconnect with his father any way he can and learn the truth of their last scavenger hunt, but Oskar is haunted by his father's last messages on the answering machine from inside the tower and, since his body was never recovered, that he will never know the full truth of how he died.

Thoughts: Interesting premise, shaky execution. My overall sense is that if Foer had spent more time on the story and less on the structure, it would have been a more effective novel. It's like a lot of these kinds of books in being slightly weirder than the actual world. Nothing that happens absolutely couldn't happen, but it's highly unlikely that it would all happen together. (What kind of parent lets their nine-year-old wander New York City by himself, especially following 9/11 when everyone was highkey paranoid?) I don't mind experimental novels done well, but ELIC is experimental-lite at best and not altogether ground-breaking. The text is supplemented by photographs, pages of writing on top of writing, single sentences on a page, and various other stylistic diversions. It's not so overwhelming that a novice to this kind of fiction would have trouble following the plot, but with one or two exceptions, these additions don't feel like a necessary part of the text; the story would have read just as well, and possibly better, without them.

My favorite exception is the chapter edited by a red pen, the only confirmation we have that Thomas Schell ever read his absent father's letters, and an ironic comment that he had the emotional distance to grammar-check them; he even circled the "I love you" in the complimentary closing like he would circle a correction. The other exception is a tougher pill to swallow, and it's hard to imagine why Foer thought it was a good idea to include actual photographs of the falling man in his book. If you didn't know what it was, you might not realize what you were looking at right away, but the images of people jumping to their deaths out the windows of the World Trade Center are a ubiquitous part of 9/11 history. (Is it ubiquitous because books like this brought attention to it? I was in middle school, so I don’t remember.) Like most things that are done for shock value, putting them in the book is in extremely poor taste.

I don't care that much for Foer's prose. The chapters cycle among Oskar, his grandmother, and his grandfather's perspectives. Oskar's chapters read exactly nothing like a nine-year-old kid's and seem mostly an excuse to include juvenile humor, random facts, and quirky observations (much more, in fact, like a 20-year-old male writer's perspective). His grandfather's are an onslaught of run-on sentences, comma splices, and spelling mistakes, and as a father who walked out on his wife and unborn child, he's possibly the least sympathetic character in the story. Much like real life, characters wander in and out of the narrative without any attempts at reason or closure. This is most noticeable with the Mr. Black who lives in Oskar's building, who randomly decides to remove himself from Oskar's search for no apparent reason and is never heard from again.

There are attempts to draw parallels among Oskar's experience with 9/11, his grandparents’ experiences with the bombing of Dresden, and, more loosely, the atomic bombings in Japan. Aside from the fact that they're all tragedies that leave dead and traumatized people in their wake, I have a hard time comparing 2,000 deaths to 20,000 deaths to a potential 200,000 deaths. (Once you start adding zeroes, is that not a whole different level of atrocity?) The book does better justice to 9/11 than any of the others, and it's an interesting look at how we struggle to make meaning after something so horrific and meaningless happens to us.

In that respect, the novel itself is an act of meaning-making as we struggle to piece together the various kinds of text and the different perspectives and timelines. Like most books of this kind, it puts a lot of responsibility on the reader to make it into a coherent story. Like most books of this kind that aren't done that well, it doesn't do enough work of its own to make a meaningful story. I wasn't expecting closure from a book like this (which is good because there is none to be had), but there's also no impression that Oskar is bringing his experiences together in a meaningful way--so there's no chance for the reader to do that either. The overall message seems to be that there IS no meaning to them. On one level, I might agree; it may be impossible to bring meaning to the death of a parent, particularly one who died in such tragic circumstances.

But the other stuff, the living part where Oskar met so many people and affected so many different lives, is open-ended to a frustrating degree. It's not quite as nihilistic as a lot of post-9/11 fiction; Oskar's search ultimately brings him back to the most important people in his life, which is a strong message, but it doesn't bring a whole lot of sense to anything leading up to that. Forcing readers to draw their own conclusions is a fine strategy, but I would have preferred to see Oskar's conclusions as well after I followed him through an entire book. In that respect, the film does a much better job in bringing Oskar's experiences together into something meaningful. We get to see how it was actually a bonding experience for him and his mother, and how touching all those lives brought something important to them and to him. This is the kind of thematic closure I was hoping for from the book, and the film just made it more obvious that it isn't there.

Notes on David Foster Wallace connections: I'm one of those terrible snobs who compares every contemporary literary fiction novel written by a white dude to Infinite Jest, and Foer doesn't seem at pains to hide the references. My favorite is a picture Oskar has of a tennis player on the ground, but he notes that from the expression on his face, we can't tell if he's won or lost. This is an A+ IJ reference, since it's rife with tennis players, sinister smiley faces, and confusion over whether people are laughing or crying. The others are more inscrutable. I have no idea what to make of Oskar playing Yorick in his school play, other than that his teachers are strangely morbid in dressing up a kid in a papier-mâché skull to play a dead guy. I'm sure that's not traumatizing at all. IJ is a loose Hamlet retelling, so Foer could have picked any other Shakespeare play to avoid the reference; I'm just not sure what it's saying. The last includes mild spoilers for both IJ and ELIC, so proceed with caution. In possibly the weirdest and most pointless detour of the book, Oskar and his grandfather dig up his father's empty casket and fill it with notebooks. Again, I have no idea what to make of this. While Oskar is very bothered by the fact that it's empty, we don't get the sense that he gains a lot of closure from this mad adventure. It's clearly a parallel to Hal and Gately digging up Himself's grave, except in IJ, they have good reason for doing so. Thoughts and theories from people who have read both? I'm interested to hear interpretations.