June 18, 2024
As an author, Jonathan Safran Foer has faced criticism for running the risk of being crass or exploitative when writing about events as horrific as 9/11 and exploring themes as sensitive as grief. Some critics claim that the experimental style of Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close causes its sentimentality to feel contrived, while others argue its unconventional form only supports the novel’s sense of earned poignancy. Centering on the undeclared rules of who gets to write about national tragedy and in what manner they must do so, these discussions beg the question of “To whom does tragedy belong?” In the case of this novel, the horrific events of September 11th, 2001 belong in part to a precocious nine-year-old boy, Oskar Schell. While Oskar himself includes images of 9/11 in his “Stuff That Happened to Me” book, in New York City and across the nation, thousands of families feel a similar sense of ownership. Though it would be impossible to represent the experience of every individual who was personally impacted by the tragedy, Foer decides to focus on Oskar and the Schell family to create a mosaic of love, loss, and grief. Using the specificities of Oskar’s world, Foer is able to craft a narrative that speaks universally to those grieving in the wake of tragedy. When Oskar visits the Empire State Building, one passage encapsulates the humanity, loneliness, and human connection that can be found in grief.
Standing on the observation deck of the Empire State Building, Oskar begins to imagine what it would be like if a plane crashed into the building like the Twin Towers. Despite his thoughts being prompted by his own fears and trauma, they nonetheless reflect the humanity of the shared grief of the entire city. As Oskar peers down, he thinks, “You can see the most beautiful things from the observation deck of the Empire State Building. I read somewhere that people on the street are supposed to look like ants, but that’s not true. They look like little people” (Foer 245). In the midst of grief, even when people might feel unrecognizable to themselves, the humanity of it all is still visible – they still look like little people. Oskar continues, thinking, “It’s like New York is a miniature replica of New York, which is nice, because you can see what it’s really like, instead of how it feels when you’re in the middle of it” (Foer 245). With Oskar’s physical perspective being 86 flights of stairs removed from the ground level of New York City, his emotional perspective broadens as well. Serving as a visual image of Foer’s universalizing of the particular experience of grief, the observation deck is symbolic of the city's common experience of life and loss. By zooming out from Oskar’s typical point of view, Foer urges the reader to see the humanity of what makes all humans similar, which is especially important when a tragedy afflicts so great a number of individuals and, really, an entire nation. The effect Foer accomplishes here is reflective of the structure of the novel as a whole – through Oskar’s journey to inquire with all the Black surnames of New York City, he makes his own “miniature replica of New York,” with each borough, apartment, and person adding to the story of Oskar’s New York. Even if it is just a last name, they all have more in common than they know.
As Oskar sees what New York is really like from the observation deck, Foer develops another effect of tragedy: loneliness. Oskar’s thoughts continue as Foer writes, “It’s extremely lonely up there, and you feel far away from everything” (245). Although Oskar is speaking literally about what it feels like to stand at the top of the Empire State Building, his words communicate the experience of grieving the loss of a loved one. Even here, the tension between particularizing and universalizing is evident, as Foer maintains Oskar’s exceptional voice, with his signature adjective “extremely,” even while speaking on a feeling common to all humans. Such few tragedies have left as collective a pain as the events of 9/11, and all throughout the city, countless people were experiencing emotions strikingly similar to that of Oskar. The unique choice of a nine-year-old, neurodivergent narrator begins to make more sense in this context – in the things that Oskar can comprehend and in all he cannot understand, in all the things that put Oskar in “heavy boots” or cause him to feel anger without knowing why – as Foer is able to convey the confusing and isolating experience of bereavement. By using Oskar’s hyper-specific story to drive the reader’s understanding, Foer brings words to the stories of thousands of families who, much like the Schells, may tend to withdraw and silently suffer through the loneliness of grief.
Despite the isolating effect of grief, throughout the novel, Foer memorializes 9/11 by portraying the human connection that can be born out of tragedy. As Oskar’s thoughts on observation deck come to a close, the passage reads,
Also it’s scary, because there are so many ways to die. But it feels safe, too, because you’re surrounded by so many people. I kept one hand touching the wall as I walked carefully around to each of the views. I saw all of the locks I’d tried to open, and the 161,999,831 that I hadn’t yet. (Foer 245)
Here, Foer communicates a special sense of safety: the assurance that even if you are afraid, you are not alone. The gravity of a tragic event like 9/11 pulls humans together, sharing in their suffering and seeking hope together – bringing even strangers incredibly close. After all, it is Mr. Black who is accompanying Oskar on the observation deck that day, and seeing Mr. Black’s loneliness and grief over his wife’s death was what prompted Oskar to invite Mr. Black, who was a perfect stranger, to join him on his mission. When Oskar says he sees all the locks he has not tried to open yet, he is really seeing all the people he has not met yet, each of them with things in common left to discover. Even as Oskar is initially forming his plan for finding the lock, he uses the rate of “each person has 18 locks” to make his calculation (Foer 41); therefore, every key truly does represent a person. While on a quest to feel closer to his dad, Oskar became closer to all the strangers he met, finding pieces of things that were beautiful and true in each of their stories. All of the particular details that bring the different Black and Schell characters to life help Foer universalize the narrative, as these details allow the reader to see a reflection of their own experience or culture within the myriad of perspectives. On the following page of text, Foer writes the culmination of this passage: “I looked at everyone and wondered where they came from, and who they missed, and what they were sorry for” (247). Through Oskar’s experience of loss and his understanding of its ubiquity, his world is opening up as the ultimately leveling and unifying effect of tragedy forges human connection.
In Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Foer creates the scene of the observation deck of the Empire State Building to symbolize the effects of grief and tragedy. From a broadened vantage point, it is clear how wide-reaching the effects of a national tragedy are, and with Oskar’s perspective, it is also evident how personally every individual feels the effects of such trauma. Oscillating between isolation and human connection, this passage represents how the metamodernist novel memorializes the realities of tragedy. As Foer zooms out to view the national tragedy and zooms in to focus on the singular story of the Schell family from Oskar’s point of view, he shows the reader that although we all grieve differently, and although grief may be the most lonely of all feelings, we all grieve nonetheless.
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