Also, I did not forget the "stranger" prompt from last Saturday. I did take a photo of a stranger, but I used my big girl camera which means it sat on the memory card until I took it off yesterday. These photo challenge thingies are so much easier when I can snap a photo with my phone, quick edit in Instagram and then email it directly to my blog. I'm getting so lazy. Anyway, without further ado, here is "Stranger":
Um, so yeah. This is a terrible picture and incredibly chicken of me. I'm sorry, but taking pictures of strangers is a very uncomfortable experience! What if they yell at me?! What if they chase me down and throw my camera on the ground and stomp it to bits?! I just can't handle it. I thought I'd get off easy as Eldest had a karate party to attend and the birthday boy's mother asked me to take pictures and since I didn't know the instructor, I figured he'd qualify as a "stranger". Whatever. I'm also posting this because this is the very moment that Eldest kicked this board in half. The proudest moment of his life.
So, there you have it. Now onto my review of a book I liked even less than The Scarlett Letter.
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I picked up Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer because I finally decided I wanted a break from my reading list. The first I heard of the book was from the movie previews and I thought it looked interesting. I read it in about 4 days, but mostly because I just wanted to get it over with and the only reason I kept reading it instead of throwing it in my imaginary DI pile was because I had to find out what the dang key went to! So well done, Jonathan Safran Foer. Well done. You got me to read a book I hated from start to finish.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself. First a quick synopsis. The story is mostly about Oskar who is 7. He's either autistic or just extremely bright. He asks never ending questions and is constantly inventing things in his head. His father was killed in the 9/11 attacks when he was 5. When his father was alive, he would send Oskar on these complicated scavenger hunts. Two years after his father is killed, Oskar finds a blue vase on the top shelf of his father's closet (which hasn't been touched by anyone since he died) and Oskar assumes that it is a clue his father left for him. Inside the vase is a key in a white envelope. On the envelope is written the name "Black". Oskar decides that he needs to hunt down every person in New York with the last name of Black to see if they knew his father or if they know what the key goes to.
The secondary story is about Oskar's grandparents. They lived in Germany when war broke out. Oskar's grandfather was in love with Oskar's grandmother's sister, but their town was bombed and their families were killed. They meet up years later by chance in a diner in New York. His grandfather has stopped talking but his grandmother doesn't care. They are both deeply scarred from the war and somehow come together. They create all of these rules about their home, nothing spaces and something spaces. The nothing spaces, where neither exist if they are standing in them, take up more and more room. They agree to not have children, but she gets pregnant. He leaves because he can't bear to have something he loves be taken away or something. Their story unfolds through letters written to Oskar (by his grandmother) and Oskar's dad (written by Oskar's grandfather).
In the end Oskar finds out what the key goes to (a safe deposit box) and (spoiler!!) the key never really belonged to his dad and it wasn't meant for Oskar as one last puzzle. The vase was sold at an estate sale to Oskar's dad by a man who's father died of cancer and left letters (so many letters in this book) for everyone. The son, of course, didn't read his until after the sale only to discover that the key in the vase was meant for him. So the guy as been searching for the key for two years. And you never find out what is in the safe deposit box.
Ugh. I'm hating this book all over. It falls into the same category that I put The Alchemist, self-important and arrogant (in a weird way), like the author wants to change the world with it. The Boston Globe praised it by saying "Energetic, inventive, and ambitious ... an uplifting myth born of the sorrows of 9/11." Liar. It was not uplifting in any way shape or form. Every person Oskar meets has some sad, horrible life and Oskar was the saddest, loneliest boy I have ever read about. His mother is non-existent in her's son's sufferings and lets him traipse around New York looking up strangers. His grandparents are Messed Up. Their letters are so beyond inappropriate, describing in detail their sex life repeatedly. Please keep in mind that they are writing to their son and grandson!! My word! Why?! Whyyy!? Nobody wants to know that!
Even in the end I didn't feel like anything had resolved. Sure, the kid finally got to cry and his mom finally paid attention to him, but it was a terrible ride to get there. I guess that was the point. It wasn't supposed to wrap up nice and neat with rainbows and unicorns. I get that.
What this all really boils down to is that this is not my kind of book. Life is hard enough. I don't need to read depressing books. And this was definitely depressing. The only redeeming quality to this book that I actually enjoyed were the photographs interspersed throughout the book. I'm liking this trend. Miss Peregrine's School for Peculiar Children also has photographs and I felt it really added to the book.
I don't know who I would recommend this book to. I think you either like it or hate it, so the reviews on Goodreads seemed to say.
Right now I'm trying to read Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Its not going well. Maybe I'm not in the right mood. I'm amazed that I could bust through the book that shall not be named in 4 days and Huck is a struggle.
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