extremely loud and incredibly close book pages

I’m not as smart as my goodreader friends. Some have called this ‘gimmicky’ or ‘precious’ but I was truly moved by this story and combined with the images presented, it will stay with me for a very long time to come. I won’t go into that anymore, I’ll let you read about it. this is also about Oskar’s grandparents and that piece is as strong as his story, sometimes stronger. When Oskar is anxious he describes it as ‘wearing heavy boots’ and when his Grandmother likes something or in a good mood she uses the term ‘that was One Hundred Dollars’ and then there’s a whole mention of a ‘Birdseed shirt’ that I’m still unclear about but enjoy the imagery of.īut, this isn’t just Oskar’s journey. I didn’t have to invent a thing.” or “ My insides don’t match up with my outsides.” and “It takes a life to learn how to live.” I know I do this a lot in reviews, but I can’t help it: Lines like “Being with him made my brain quiet. While Oskar is a bit unbelievable as a character, I felt that that was soon overshadowed by the images presented. The need to feel close to his father who died in the attacks, to spend just a bit more time with him. The journey that the boy, Oskar, takes in this book is beautiful. Does anyone really ever use those adverbs anymore? Is anything ever extreme or incredible enough for us? My daughter has taken to using ‘perfectly’ in almost every sentence and it brings a smile to my face each time. There are 43 ‘Incrediblys’ and 63 ‘Extremelys’ within this book. I haven’t been to New York in 13 years, I can’t even imagine a New York without those buildings.

I remember the night that we decided to marry, I remember exchanging our vows leaning against the railing staring up, always up. I remember nights where I’d hug the side of Tower One, pressing against it and lift my head as far back as I could and stare up until the glass met the sky and I’d get so dizzy I’d stumble back. Hours sped by and we’d drag our sorry asses back to the train and to our tiny apartment. I remember many nights sitting on this ratty red paint peeled bench staring across the river at Jersey, specifically the Colgate sign, and just talking about everything. No matter what path we’d take, it was our destination. only through the Village or SoHo and eventually our meandering would lead us to the Towers.

We were broke most of the time, not much into clubbing, so about 4 out of 7 nights we would walk. Can I use the excuse of being in shock during the actual event? That it seemed like a movie?įlash back: The second half of 1994, my then boyfriend and I living in the East Village, 23 years old and clueless. Then I became upset that this piece of fiction could invoke such melancholia. I cried more over this book than I did on the actual September 11th.

I cried on the couch, I cried on the bus, I cried at stoplights, I cried at work. There are books that affect me and then there are books that kill me.

Extremely loud and incredibly close book pages