Books books Books

    I forgot how much I love books, and have always loved them for that matter. Making them as a kid, reading stories that made the wheels turn, wanting to create books of my own. I wish I had more energy to read instead of falling asleep after five pages. Here are some things I have read in the past month from Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close that I love and that have made my wheels turn again:

    I like to see people run to each other. I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatiences, the stories that the mouth can't tell fast enough, the ears that aren't big enough, the eyes that can't take in all of the change, I like the hugging and the bringing together, the end of missing someone, I sit on the side with a coffee and write in my daybook, I examine the flight schedules that I've already memorized, I observe, I write, I try not to remember the life that I didn't want to lose but lost and have to remember, being here fills my heart with so much joy, even if the joy isn't mine. (Foer 109)

    "Young friends, whose string-and-tin-can phone extended from island to island, had to pay out more and more string, as if lettings kites go higher and higher.

    "'It's getting almost impossible to hear you,' said the young girl from her bedroom in Manhattan as she squinted through a pair of her father's binoculars, trying to find her friend's window.

    "'I'll holler if I have to,' said her friend from his bedroom in the Sixth Borough, aiming last birthday's telescope at her apartment.

    "The string between them grew incredibly long, so long it had to be extended with many other strings tried together: his yo-yo string, the pull from her talking doll, the twine that had fastened his father's diary, the waxy string that had kept her grandmother's pearls around her neck and off the floor, the thread that had separated his great-uncle's childhood quilt from a pile of rags. Contained withing everything they shares with one another were the yo-yo, the doll, the diary, the necklace, and the quilt. They had more and more to tell each other, and less and less string.

    "The boy asked the girl to say 'I love you' into her can, giving her no further explanation.

    "And she didn't ask for any, or say 'that's silly,' or 'We're too young for love,' or even suggest that she was saying 'I love you' because he asked her to. Instead she said, 'I love you.' The words traveled the yo-yo, the doll, the diary, the necklace, the quilt, the clothesline, the birthday present, the hard, the tea bag, the tennis racket, the hem of the skirt he one should have pulled from her body." "Grody!" "The boy covered his can with a lid, removed it from the string, and put her love for him on a shelf in his closet. Of course, he never could open the can, because then he would lose its contents. It was enough just to know it was there. (Foer 220)