Posts tagged: Jonathan Safran Foer

onthestrand:

JONATHAN SAFRAN FOER | NEW NOVEL | 2014
Simon Prosser, Publishing Director of Hamish Hamilton, has acquired British and Commonwealth rights for Jonathan Safran Foer’s third novel, Escape from Children’s Hospital, the follow-up to the internationally-acclaimed, bestselling Everything is Illuminated and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.
 A fictionalised account of a life-changing event that happened to the author as a nine-year-old - an explosion in a summer camp science class, which left his best friend without skin on his face or hands, and whose brunt the author avoided by inches and for no good reason - this is a story about the shared trauma of childhood, the potential destructiveness of storytelling, and the redemptive power of friendship.  Weaving precariously between non-fiction and fiction, and existing at the intersection of different styles (suspense, memoir, imaginative storytelling), the book moves out from that moment in 1985 to the repercussions on the ever-expanding circle of those affected by it.
Explaining his ambition for the book, Jonathan Safran Foer writes: ‘What actually happened that day? What is a novel capable of? These are the two questions I have been living inside of, and I hope they will answer one another: my novel is what happened that day; and a truthful, experiential telling of that day is what the novel is capable of.’
Simon Prosser comments: ‘I couldn’t be more excited about a novel or about a writer - and I am thrilled that we are the first of Jonathan’s publishers to acquire this book.’
Picture by Sonja Kresowaty in homage to Gray318

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onthestrand:

JONATHAN SAFRAN FOER | NEW NOVEL | 2014

Simon Prosser, Publishing Director of Hamish Hamilton, has acquired British and Commonwealth rights for Jonathan Safran Foer’s third novel, Escape from Children’s Hospital, the follow-up to the internationally-acclaimed, bestselling Everything is Illuminated and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.

 A fictionalised account of a life-changing event that happened to the author as a nine-year-old - an explosion in a summer camp science class, which left his best friend without skin on his face or hands, and whose brunt the author avoided by inches and for no good reason - this is a story about the shared trauma of childhood, the potential destructiveness of storytelling, and the redemptive power of friendship.  Weaving precariously between non-fiction and fiction, and existing at the intersection of different styles (suspense, memoir, imaginative storytelling), the book moves out from that moment in 1985 to the repercussions on the ever-expanding circle of those affected by it.

Explaining his ambition for the book, Jonathan Safran Foer writes: ‘What actually happened that day? What is a novel capable of? These are the two questions I have been living inside of, and I hope they will answer one another: my novel is what happened that day; and a truthful, experiential telling of that day is what the novel is capable of.’

Simon Prosser comments: ‘I couldn’t be more excited about a novel or about a writer - and I am thrilled that we are the first of Jonathan’s publishers to acquire this book.’

Picture by Sonja Kresowaty in homage to Gray318

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And this is what living next to a waterfall is like, Safran. Every widow wakes one morning, perhaps after years of pure and unwavering grieving, to realize she slept a good night’s sleep, and will be able to eat breakfast, and doesn’t hear her husband’s ghost all the time. Her grief is replaced witha useful sadness. Every parent who loses a child finds a way to laugh again. The timbre beins to fade. The edge dulls. The hurt lessens. Every love is carved from loss.
Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer (via thechocolatebrigade)
I thought this movie would upset me because it wouldn’t compare to the book, but actually, it was incredibly amazing in its own way. I wouldn’t hesitate to call it one of my favorite films. It had me in tears nearly the entire time. And I laughed a fair amount. And I thought about my brother and how I’m not alone. I really enjoyed the film, to say the least. 

I thought this movie would upset me because it wouldn’t compare to the book, but actually, it was incredibly amazing in its own way. I wouldn’t hesitate to call it one of my favorite films. It had me in tears nearly the entire time. And I laughed a fair amount. And I thought about my brother and how I’m not alone. I really enjoyed the film, to say the least. 

I felt, that night, on that stage, under that skull, incredibly close to everything in the universe, but also extremely alone. I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it? What’s so horrible about being dead forever, and not feeling anything, and not even dreaming? What’s so great about feeling and dreaming?
Jonathan Safran Foer (via thechocolatebrigade)

casimirpulaskiday:

Why are you leaving me?

He wrote, I do not know how to live.

I do not know either but I am trying. 

I do not know how to try. 

There were some things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him.

So I buried them and let them hurt me.

Jonathan Safran Foer

What about little microphones? What if everyone swallowed them, and they played the sounds of our hearts through little speakers which could be in the pouches of our overalls? When you skateboarded down the street at night you could hear everyone’s heartbeat, and they could hear yours, sort of like sonar. One weird thing is, I wonder if everyone’s hearts would start to beat at the same time, like how women who live together have their menstrual periods at the same time, which I know about, but don’t really want to know about. That would be so weird, except that the place in the hospital where babies are born would sound like a crystal chandelier in a houseboat, because the babies wouldn’t have had time to match up their heartbeats yet. And at the finish line of the New York City Marathon it would sound like war.
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer (via thechocolatebrigade)
I am always sad, I think. Perhaps this signifies that I am not sad at all, because sadness is something lower than your normal disposition, and I am always the same thing. Perhaps I am the only person in the world, then, who never becomes sad. Perhaps I am lucky.
Jonathan Safran Foer, ‘Everything is Illuminated’ (via thoughtfox)