Simply put, this is one of the worst books I have ever read, which is a list that includes five books, including this one. I don’t want this to be a forum of negativity, and reading a really bad book for me is very rare, but this one is truly awful. It is just the right mixture of pretentious, thinly veiled self-service and syntax over talent to make it very unpleasant. I knew I wasn’t going to enjoy this book very much, and read it simply to get it out of the way so I can be qualified to criticize Foer, but I had no idea it was going to be like this. The story concerns Oskar (a representation of Foer himself that is so flimsy, he might as well have named him after himself to save me from typing this) as he searches for the lock to the key he found in his dad’s things, who died in 9/11. Wackiness ensues, along with many pictures, silly topography (it makes the reading go by quicker) and some of the worst dives into arrogant self-appraisal you will come across. Nothing here rings true. We are supposed to believe that Oskar is smart enough to have read A Brief History of Time, but not know what a blowjob is? It forced quirks like this that try to force the reader to put Oskar, and Foer himself, up on a pedestal of purity. It makes for an annoying, and sometime loathsome read that was quick, but not quick enough. I think Foer’s success lies in his ability to make certain arrogant literary types treat their social problems, such as narcissism and just plain old douchebaggery as a quirk, instead of the personality problems they are. He is easily the most overrated writer alive today. I hate being so negative, but this was really that bad, and in no way could I recommend this book.
Rating: 1/5
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