Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close BOOK REVIEW

• Date Published:
  2005
• Length:
  326 pages—Listening Time: 10 hours 57 minutes
• Genre:
  Fiction
• Setting:
  2002-2003, aftermath of 9-11 terror attacks, New York City
• Awards
  Dublin Literary Award Longlist 2007; Audie Award Finalist 2006; Green Mountain Book Award Nominee 2008; The Morning News Tournament of Books Quarterfinalist 2006; V&A Illustration Award Book Illustration Award Jonathan Safran Foer, Hamish Hamilton 2005; Prix des libraires du Québec 2007; Village Voice Favorite Books 2005; New York Times Bestseller Fiction 2005; Ali Velshi’s 'Banned Book Club' Pick
• Languages:
  Chinese, Czech, Danish, Dutch, English, Estonian, French, German, Greek, Hebrew, Hungarian, Italian, Japanese, Norwegian
• Sensitive Aspects:
  Depictions of 9/11 and terrorism, graphic emotional trauma and grief, child protagonist experiencing psychological distress, references to death and loss of a parent, mental health struggles (anxiety, possible PTSD), portrayal of civilian casualties, themes of loneliness and isolation, use of morally ambiguous or ethically uncomfortable situations, references to violence and destruction, portrayal of disability and aging (the grandparents’ conditions), potentially distressing narrative style and fragmented storytelling
• Movie:
  The movie adaptation of Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close was released in December 2011. Directed by Stephen Daldry and written by Eric Roth.
• Recommended for Book Club:
  Yes!

Have you ever read a book that feels like it’s speaking directly to the part of you that doesn’t always have words? That’s what Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer felt like.

Oskar is brilliant, peculiar, heartbroken, and relentlessly curious. He’s the kind of character who asks questions you didn’t even know you were avoiding. And as he moves through New York City searching for the lock that matches a mysterious key left behind by his father, you start to realize this isn’t really a story about a key at all—it’s about grief, connection, and the strange ways we try to make sense of loss.

And yet… it’s also delightful.

That’s the word I kept coming back to. Delightful. Not in a shallow, everything-is-happy way, but in the way the book surprises you—through its structure, its humor, and its unexpected tenderness. One moment you’re laughing at Oskar’s over-the-top inventions or his wildly specific fears, and the next you’re sitting there, quietly wrecked, rereading a single line because it hit too close.

There are “sayings” in this book—little fragments of truth—that I know I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life. The kind you want to write down, text to a friend, or just hold onto for a rainy day when the world feels a bit too heavy. "Jose!" "Heavy boots."

I gave this book 10 stars without hesitation. Not because it’s perfect in a traditional sense, but because it made me feel everything—deeply, unexpectedly, and in ways that lingered long after I turned the last page.

And if you’ve ever loved someone, lost someone, or simply wondered how we keep going after the unthinkable… I have a feeling this one might stay with you too.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close follows nine-year-old Oskar Schell, a uniquely perceptive and endlessly inquisitive boy living in New York City. Oskar isn’t your typical protagonist—he invents things in his spare time, keeps detailed lists of his fears, and asks questions most adults wouldn’t dare to voice out loud. But beneath his intelligence and curiosity is a deep, unspoken grief following the loss of his father, who died in the 9-11 terrorist attacks..

One day, while searching through his father’s closet, Oskar discovers a mysterious key hidden inside an envelope labeled with a single word: “Black.” With no clear instructions and no obvious answers, Oskar does what he does best—he turns the unknown into a mission.

What follows is a city-wide journey that takes him across all five boroughs of New York, where he sets out to meet every person with the last name “Black.” His goal? To find the lock that matches the key and, in doing so, uncover some final connection to his father.

As Oskar moves from one apartment to the next, he encounters a wide range of strangers—each with their own stories, routines, and quiet complexities. Some interactions are awkward, some are unexpectedly kind, and others leave more questions than answers. Through these encounters, the city begins to feel both enormous and strangely intimate, like every door might be hiding a piece of something larger.

Interwoven with Oskar’s journey are glimpses into his family’s past, adding layers of history that stretch beyond his own experience. These parallel threads gradually reveal how loss, love, and memory ripple across generations in ways we don’t always see at first.

At its core, the plot is driven by Oskar’s need to make sense of something that feels impossible to understand. The key becomes more than just an object—it’s a reason to keep moving, to keep asking, to keep connecting.

And as his search unfolds, the story quietly builds into something much bigger than a simple quest… without ever losing sight of the small, human moments along the way.

Here’s the part where I lean in and tell you why this one is so worth your time:

It captures grief in a way that feels real, not performative.

Oskar’s sadness isn’t polished or poetic—it’s messy, confusing, sometimes even a little irrational. And that’s exactly why it hits so hard. If you’ve ever not known what to do with your feelings, you’ll recognize yourself here.

You’ll fall in love with Oskar (even when he’s a lot)

He’s quirky, intense, and asks questions at the worst possible times—but he’s also deeply human in the way he tries to make sense of the world. You’ll laugh at him, worry about him, and probably want to hug him at least ten times.

It’s unexpectedly funny

Yes, it deals with heavy themes—but somehow, it’s also full of moments that will make you snort-laugh. Oskar’s thoughts, his inventions, his very specific fears… they sneak up on you in the best way.

The structure keeps you curious

This isn’t a straightforward, linear story. It weaves between perspectives and timelines in a way that feels almost like putting together a puzzle. You’re not just reading—you’re discovering.

It’s full of lines you’ll want to keep forever

You know those sentences that make you stop, reread, and just sit there for a second? This book is packed with them. The kind you mentally bookmark because they feel too true to forget.

It turns a simple “quest” into something much deeper

On the surface, it’s about a boy looking for a lock that matches a key. But underneath, it’s about connection, memory, and the ways we try to stay close to the people we’ve lost.

It makes New York City feel alive in a quiet, intimate way

Not the flashy, cinematic version—but the real one, full of strangers with their own stories. Every door Oskar knocks on feels like stepping into a completely different life.

It balances heartbreak with tenderness

This is the kind of book that will make you tear up… and then, somehow, gently put you back together again. Not perfectly—but softly.

It lingers after the last page

You don’t just finish this book and move on. You carry it. Certain scenes, certain words—they stay with you, popping back into your mind days later.

It gives you that rare “10-star” feeling

You know when you close a book and just sit there for a second, not ready to start another one yet? That. That’s what this delivers.

Get Jonathan Safran Foer Books

Jonathan Safran Foer’s books are beautifully inventive, emotionally piercing stories that explore love, loss, and human connection in ways that feel both deeply intimate and unforgettable.

Purchase Jonathan Safran Foer Books on Bookshop.org

Here are a few books that live in the same emotional neighborhood as Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close—griefy, quirky, heart-tuggy, and often told through unforgettable voices.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon
Told from the perspective of Christopher, a fifteen-year-old boy who sees the world through a very literal, logical lens, this novel follows his investigation into the “murder” of a neighbor’s dog, which slowly unravels deeper family secrets and emotional truths. It has that same blend of child (or teen) perspective, humor, and ache that makes you laugh one second and clutch your chest the next.

Room by Emma Donoghue
Narrated by five-year-old Jack, who has spent his entire life in a single room with his mother, this story slowly reveals the horrifying reality of their situation and the staggering courage it takes to step into the wider world. The voice is innocent and matter-of-fact, which somehow makes the emotional impact even more powerful.

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness
After his mother becomes seriously ill, thirteen-year-old Conor is visited at night by a towering, ancient monster who demands the truth from him in three stories. This one mixes grief, myth, and illustration in a way that feels raw and cathartic, especially around how kids process “unacceptable” feelings.

The History of Love by Nicole Krauss
This novel braids together the lives of an elderly man in New York and a teenage girl trying to understand her late father, all orbiting around a mysterious old book that may connect them. It’s full of melancholy, humor, and that aching sense of missed connections and found family that will feel very familiar if you loved Foer.

Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer
Foer’s debut follows a young American man (also named Jonathan Safran Foer) who travels to Ukraine to find the woman who saved his grandfather during the Holocaust, accompanied by an eccentric translator and his “seeing-eye” dog. It’s structurally playful, tonally wild (funny and devastating in the same breath), and carries that same inventive, heart-forward storytelling.

The Dogs of Babel by Carolyn Parkhurst
After his wife dies in a mysterious fall from a tree, a grieving husband becomes obsessed with teaching their dog to talk, convinced the animal is the only witness to what really happened. It’s strange, tender, and deeply focused on the ways grief makes us reach for impossible answers.

Vaclav & Lena by Haley Tanner
This novel follows two immigrant children in Brooklyn, an aspiring magician and the girl who becomes his assistant, whose lives are separated and then unexpectedly cross again as teens. It’s a story about love, memory, and growing up between cultures, with that same warm, offbeat, slightly magical tone.

Rabbit Cake by Annie Hartnett
Told by ten-year-old Elvis, who is trying to understand her mother’s sudden death while her family spins out in grief, this novel manages to be both whimsical and gut-punchy at once. Think quirky kid narrator, morbid humor, and a family that’s falling apart and figuring it out at the same time.