We know that every bomb that rips thru the Holy Land rocks our neat little American world. Marxist or not, nothing in this world occurs in isolation. Emotionalism aside, basic physics mandates that every action has a reaction. To me, it is a personal death when we grow too comfortable in life, when the world no longer moves us... when we can go on living as if rocks and body parts have not been flung into the raging river of humanity. The world is round. We live a circular existence. As a writer, as a woman, as human, I must find the connection in things. I must feel the connection in things. Empathy is not a weakness, it is the definition of my humanity, it is the strength we share as people.

So with these thoughts occupying my mind I have been attempting to review the material for an analysis on Jonathan Safran Foer's work. Somewhere between 6 and 11 pm [and stashes of frozen grapes later] I realized that I actually have something in common with this incredible/despicable author. I have in fact established a love-hate relationship with the writer [somewhat similar to my mental turbulence with Joyce]. I'm on the fourth reading of his book and the only conclusion I have made thus far: I love his book. I hate his book. It moves me. It repulses me. Maybe that's what makes it such a monumental work. Its emphasizing exaggeration, its consistent sexualization, and its blatant caricaturization of everything under the sun is all indicative of one thing: the author's youthful arrogance... or is it naive confidence?...because of this one powerful but frightening conclusion i am left standing in the BETWEEN [much like the marriage of The Kolker and Brod sans the divinity].

As someone who loves to watch the physicilization of words, Foer definitely engages me [especially fave part where he writes for an entire page "we are writing.........we are writing..........we are writing........"]. Clearly, his words do not only speak, but dance. Still despite my absorption and strange feeling of Otherness, as a reader I must attempt to be subjective in my objectivity... fumble and grasp with the weight of the word and its implied meaning.

So what's my point... I don't need to discuss Foer [i believe we've done that a bit a go] again [and i've somewhat promised not to get into anyy intellectual, pseudo-intellectual, academic related stuff]. So what's my point? What's the humanistic angle? What's the connection??

If you've ever read Everything Is Illuminated you'll immediately realize that the only way Foer can even address the overall theme of the Holocaust is thru humour. You laugh through the pages. You laugh at the obsenity of the Kolker beating Brod while shouting his love for her.

Laughter in this book is never light, it simply replaces tears.
So what is laughter? What does it mean to laugh at something that is not funny or even remotely 'ridiculous'?
As a genuine laugher myself [tears are a scarce commodity] I relate to Foer's technique. Jokes, teasing, and well-placed puns deflect the intensity of awkwardness or the lack of comfort. This is not to say that he or any other laugher makes light of a situation, but in fact the opposite: the only way to comprehend the enormouity of the situation is by removing himself from it. Similiarly that the only way one can truly experience real intimacy is through distance, the only way to penetrate is by removal [think of G-d's method] etc. Thus humour is amongst the few ways one can truly grasp the depth of tragedy.

Jokes and teasing aren't 'coverups' of true feelings [that's a serious joke]. At times they are the only means by which to relate quintessential emotions, the ones that are the most difficult to say. It is through the 'deflection' of humour [think Picasso's "The Women of Avingon" or any other modern fragmentation] that we can penetrate and communicate the feelings that run so deep they move us to the greatest lengths. It is the only way to laugh our tears, or cry our laughter...

[may gd safeguard the holy land and fill it with the laughter of weddings, births and celebrations of love]