Jonathan Safran Foer - Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

What about a teakettle? What if the spout opened and closed when the steam came out, so it would become a mouth, and it could whistle pretty melodies, or do Shakespeare, or just crack up with me? I could invent a teakettle that reads in Dad’s voice, so I could fall asleep, or maybe a set of kettles that sings the chorus of „Yellow Submarine,“ which is a song by the Beatles, who I love, because entomology is one of my raisons d’etre, which is a French expression that I know. Another good thing is that I could train my anus to talk when I farted. If I wanted to be extremely hilarious, I’d train it to say, „Wasn’t me!“ every time I made an incredibly bad fart. And if I ever made an incredibly bad fart in the Hall of Mirrors, which is in Versailles, which is outside of Paris, which is in France, obviously, my anus would say, „Ce n’etais pas moi!“

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 of 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 at the end of the New York City Marathon it would sound like war.

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Dělám, co můžu. Kromě včerejška jsem dobrých deset dní nepřečetla ani řádku, myslím z knihy, což se mi nestalo od mateřské školky. Nic zas tak závažného se neděje, jen se snažím přežít palácový převrat a nic nezkazit a dorovnat všechny svoje životy aspoň na nezbytné minimum, a přitom utíká čas. Jako ostatně pořád.
Tedy Foer. Ten se doporučuje snadno, je to dobrá kniha, autor je hračička, poschovává vám do textu indicie, některé objevíte až napodruhé, napotřetí. Taky fotky, obrázky, všechno jako důkaz zapeklitosti světa, v němž letadla narážejí do budov a tatínkové mají tajemství a kde existují nic-místa, kde na vás nikdo nemůže. Česky jako Příšerně nahlas a k nevíře blízko.
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