extremely loud and incredibly close

am terminat de citit extremely loud & incredibly close, de jonathan safran foer. dupa cateva luni bune, am citit in sfarsit o carte cap coada. nu scriu la fel de frumos precum sper ca citesc, dar profit de ocazia unui blog cat se poate de al meu ca sa imortalizez niste senzatii si, poate mai expresive de atat, niste citate.

nu am fost curioasa sa citesc descrierea de pe spate, nici recenzii pe internet inainte sa ma apuc de citit. am incercat sa parcurg ultima pagina, asa cum fac la inceputul fiecarei carti pe care o citesc, dar acolo erau numai fotografii. si cateva alte imagini, schite printre pagini, care iti atrag atentia cand o rasfoieste distras.

prima uimire a fost sa aflu ca personajul principal este un baietel de 9 ani. prima bucurie a fost sa imi dau seama ca e scrisa din prisma mai multor personaje, ceea ce insemna ca urma sa se construiasca incet, din bucatele mici de puzzle care cad la locul lor pe masura ce ai rabdare sa intregesti harta si sa conturezi scenarii.

mi-au placut oamenii construiti din lipsuri, nevoi, asteptari neimplinite, cuvinte nespuse. curajul. statornicia. compromisurile. mi-am inchipuit o camera ai carei pereti sunt facuti din carti. mi s-a facut pofta sa scriu scrisori si sa colectionez lucruri mici. mi-au placut jocurile, planurile, inventiile. m-a intristat singuratatea de a duce o povara singur. heavy boots, heavier boots si bruises.

am aflat cum se scrie errands. am citit murmurand, ca sa nu pierd niciun sens. am cautat cateva cuvinte in dictionar. mi-am dat seama ca, intr-adevar, e un loc dupa ureche unde nu te atinge nimeni, mai niciodata. ca uneori, sunt straini carora le-ai da cheia de la casa ta.

nu stiu altii cum sunt, dar pentru mine nu este genul de carte in care te identifici cu personajul, ci ai vrea sa fii el. nu am multe lucruri in comun cu oskar, poate doar cautarea, nelinistea, lipsa. dar ma intreb de ce nu m-am gandit eu la o o agenda in care sa adun things that happen to me. de ce nu sunt “inventor, jewelry designer, jewelry fabricator, amateur entomologist, frasncophile, vegan, origamist, pacifist, percussionist, amateur astronomer, computer consultant, amateur archeologist, collector of: rare coins, butterflies that died natural deaths, miniature cacti, beatles memorabilia, semiprecious stones, and other things”.

am trait aproape jumatate de carte remarcand cateva pasaje pe care imi doream sa le iau cu mine si sa nu le uit. abia apoi mi-am dat seama ca desi ma vor fi marcat suficient cat sa privesc un pic altfel oamenii, tristetile, tacerile, nu voi putea sa le reproduc intr-un fel care sa sune macar apropiat cu ceea ce mi-au transmis mie cand le-am citit. si ca, oricum, mesajul rezoneaza altfel cu fiecare dintre noi. asa ca dupa aceea am inceput sa las mici semne albastre care sa marcheze locurile prin care am lasat o bucatica din mine si am luat o bucatica din altceva.

“Oh,  well! So many people enter and leave your life! Hundreds and thousands of people! You have to keep the door open so they can come in! But it also means you have to let them go!” (pg. 153)

“It’s not a horrible world, but it’s filled with horrible people.” (pg. 156)

“What if the water that came out of the shower was treated with a chemical that responded to a combination of thigs, like your heart-beat, and your body temperature, and your brain waves, so that your skin changed color according to your mood? If you were extremely excited your skin would turn green, and if you were angry you’d turn red obviously, and if you felt like shiitake you’d turn brown, and if you were blue you’d turn blue. Everyone could know what everyone else felt, and we could be more careful with each other, because you’d never want to tell a person whose skin was purple that you’re angry at her for being late, just like you would want to pat a pink person on the back and tell him congratulations.” (pg. 163)

“You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting you from happiness.” (pg. 180)

“I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live.” (pg. 184)

“You can’t love anything more than something you miss.” (pg. 208)

“I wanted to know what he was thinking. Who did he miss? What was he sorry for?” (pg. 247)

“And then a thought came into my brain that wasn’t like the other thoughts. It was closer to me, and louder. I didn’t know where it came from, or what it meant, or if I loved it or hated it. It opened up like a fist or a flower.” (pg. 259)

my rating: 5/5