Here I Am by Jonathan Safran Foer
Here I Am by Jonathan Safran Foer is a novel that is tough to review without spoiling. I wouldn’t say that it is an essential read, but I wanted to clip and save a few passages. Here they are…
Parenthood:
[child talking to an adult] “Babies kick you from the inside, and then they come out and kick you some more.” “It’s been my experience,” Julia said, her hand moving to her belly. “I read it in one of my parents’ parenting books.” “Why on earth do you read those?” “To try to understand them.”
Before they had kids, if asked to conjure images of parenthood they would have said things like “Reading in bed,” and “Giving a bath,” and “Running while holding the seat of a bicycle.” Parenthood contains such moments of warmth and intimacy, but isn’t them. It’s cleaning up. The great bulk of family life involves no exchange of love, and no meaning, only fulfillment. Not the fulfillment of feeling fulfilled, but of fulfilling that which now falls to you.
On Jews in America:
But instead of driving, Irv turned to press the point from which he’d strayed: “Here’s the deal: the world population of Jews falls within the margin of error of the Chinese census, and everyone hates us.”
Especially Jewish Americans, who will go to any length, short of practicing Judaism, to instill a sense of Jewish identity in their children.
On Israel:
All Tamir wanted to talk about was money—the average Israeli income, the size of his own easy fortune, the unrivaled quality of life in that fingernail clipping of oppressively hot homeland hemmed in by psychopathic enemies.
A child on his home life:
Sam knew that everything would collapse, he just didn’t know exactly how or when. His parents were going to get divorced and ultimately hate each other and spread destruction like that Japanese reactor. That much was clear, if not to them. He tried not to notice their lives, but it was impossible to ignore how often his dad fell asleep in front of the absence of news, how often his mom retreated into pruning the trees of her architectural models, how his dad started serving dessert every night, how his mom told Argus she “needed space” whenever he licked her, how devoted his mom had become to the Travel section, how his dad’s search history was all real estate sites, how his mom would put Benjy on her lap whenever his dad was in the room, the violence with which his dad began to hate spoiled athletes who don’t even try, how his mom gave three thousand dollars to the fall NPR drive, how his dad bought a Vespa in retaliation, the end of appetizers in restaurants, the end of the third bedtime story for Benjy, the end of eye contact.
[This is not a novel about divorce litigation. Foer describes a woman divorcing her husband in the winner-take-all jurisdiction of the District of Columbia but without striving to be the winner.]
A rich guy on his impending divorce:
“You’re right. We’re resolutely young. If we were seventy it would be different. Maybe even if we were sixty or fifty. Maybe then I’d say, This is who I am. This is my lot. But I’m forty-four. A huge portion of my life hasn’t happened. And the same is true for Jennifer. We realized we would be happier living other lives. That’s a good thing. Certainly better than pretending, or repressing, or just being so consumed with the responsibility of playing a part that you never question if it’s the part you would choose. I’m still young, Julia, and I want to choose happiness.” “Happiness?” “Happiness.” “Whose happiness?” “My happiness. Jennifer’s, too. Our happiness, but separately.” “While we pursue happiness, we flee from contentment.” “Well, neither my happiness nor contentment is with her. And her happiness definitely isn’t with me.” “Where is it? Under a sofa cushion?” “In fact, under her French tutor.” “Holy shit,” Julia said, bringing the knob to her forehead harder than she’d intended. “I don’t know why you’re having this reaction to good news.” “She doesn’t even speak French.” “And now we know why.”
Again, there is no litigation. This couple is together. Then they are divorced. (The French tutor idea is not original to Foer; a wife having sex with her language tutor instead of learning the language is in the 2000 remake of Bedazzled.)
The book is not as antic as Everything is Illuminated.
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