Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

I realized that the bookmark that I've been using, that I just so happened to pull off of my coffee table and stick into Jonathan Safran Foer's book Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is a photograph I took for the Ribcage prequel book that will never be. A photograph I took in New York for my planned New York novel filled with photographs of New York at eye level and I am sticking it into a New York novel filled with photographs of New York, mostly taken at eye level.

It's official that, right at this moment, all I have is my voice. I think I have one and I would never jinx myself to sound so sure about it--but I thank God that I think I have one.

Because here is a book that is exactly what I wanted to write and so much more. I don't want to jinx the book either, because I'm only 100 pages in, but I have to hand it to Mr. Foer. His book has beauty, grace and two big balls. I didn't think I wanted to read a book set in the aftermath of 9/11 and I certainly know I'd never want to write one, but Foer did and for that I will gladly stare at the bookmark that's all I have left of a book idea that didn't have the pair to compare.