The Gypsy girl whose heart broke for Safran, whom she did not love, and his books organized by the colors of their spines. Brod and her 613 sadnesses, her love for everyone and everything and no one and nothing. The metafiction how-much-is-real Jonathan Safran Foer, dedicated to his notebook, staunch vegetarian.
Lovely Alex, with his love for his brother and his grandiose lies and his dashed dreams and his wonderfully terrible English (“Did you manufacture any Zs?”). These characters may very well stay with me for the rest of my life. I’ll end up trying to trick you into reading by including ever-lengthening passages. Maybe quoting it wasn’t a good idea, because I want to give swaths of it to you all. (They are on the inside of the lids of my eyes.) I just want to quote this book to you, if that’s okay. Because even though I’ve been reading this book for almost three weeks (bananas long for me), it still feels like one cohesive experience. I’ve taken the last hour or two to just kind of continue with my life and try to absorb that experience. So in honor of the end of the year-ish, here’s my review of my fave book from it. Note: I read this book a few months back, and I’m pretty sure it’s my favorite of the year.
As past and present merge, hysterically funny moments collide with episodes of great tragedy–and an unforgettable story of one family’s extraordinary history unfolds. On their quixotic quest, the two young men look for Augustine, a woman who might have saved Jonathan’s grandfather from the Nazis. Alex, a lover of all things American and unsurpassed butcher of the English language, is his lovable Ukrainian guide. Synopsis: Jonathan is a Jewish college student searching Europe for the one person he believes can explain his roots.
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