9/11: Paralanguage and Communication

Jonah Miller

8, 7, 2, 8, 6, 2! 5, 6, 8, 3! 3, 3, 2, 8, 4! 4, 2, 5, 5, 6?

9/11: Paralanguage and Communication in Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

“It kept getting worse.” How does one manage to articulate the source of perpetual and chronic trauma? How does one merge feelings of rage, woe, and doubt? Horror, anxiety, and vulnerability? In a sudden flash of smoke and fire, life stopped. The world erupted into an unparalleled panic as two planes crashed into the beating heart of America. “It kept getting worse.” Epitomizing the freedom the United States projects to the world, the World Trade Center in Downtown Manhattan was attacked and ultimately destroyed. In just 102 minutes, thousands of lives were stolen, and the world was forever changed. “It kept getting worse.” Even after the toxic dust cloud dissolved into the sublimely blue sky, the psychological dust cloud was only beginning to infiltrate the survivors’ minds.“It kept getting worse.” The emotional toll after 9/11 initiated more than just trauma and PTSD: it created an unrivaled, profound depth of psychological damage, which lasted far longer than 102 minutes. The following day, newspapers did not need to summarize the events of the prior morning. The mountains of documented footage reveal a more harrowing narrative than any headline could. Instead, a heartfelt personal anecdote assumed the lead article of the New York Times. The first four words, which millions of Americans read after the darkest day in modern history, uttered, “It kept getting worse.” In only four words, N. R. Kleinfield fused the innumerable emotions Americans were feeling. Similarly, Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, which was published only two years after 9/11, uses distinct characters to personify the feelings of vexation, grief, and uncertainty. Terror, distress, and voicelessness. Following the death of his father on 9/11, the novel’s primary plot follows nine-year-old Oskar Schell on a healing journey around New York City to learn more about his father, which inadvertently helps Oskar overcome his trauma. Simultaneously, Oskar’s grandparents are on a parallel journey to understand and quell their traumas, originating after the Dresden Bombings during World War II. Foer, however, visually and linguistically interrupts the two lexical storylines with a nonlexical, paralinguistic narrative, which allows both Oskar as the primary narrator and Foer as the author to communicate what simply cannot be put into words. This interruptive storyline creates engagement between the author and the reader, the reader and the typography, and the typography and the language itself. When asked about the role of nonlexical media in the novel, Foer explains his reasoning: “We remember certain images: planes going into the buildings, people falling, the towers collapsing. That's how we experience it; that's how we remember it. And I want to be true to that experience (Foer, 2005).” “It kept getting worse.” Through his use of paralanguage, Foer’s novel becomes an engaging experience for readers, who use the images as a tertiary storyline of overcoming trauma, and in the end, readers applaud each character for their significant psychological progression. It keeps getting better. By deconstructing the post-9/11 era using paralinguistics to communicate the unspeakable, Foer’s traumatized characters embark on a journey to find humanity after language fails each of them, mimicking the American experience during 9/11 as one of voicelessness, uncertainty, and psychological turbulence. 

Foer uses specific images that address both the storylines of the novel and of 9/11 from a historical standpoint, evoking emotion in the reader. By weaving these narratives using paralanguage, Foer creates an illusion that cannot be expressed lexically. The last forty pages of the novel, for example, create a flipbook of a man who jumped from the World Trade Center on 9/11 (Appendix D). Foer, however, reversed the pages to make it appear as though the man fell upwards (Foer 327-368). The series of photos provides rich insight into Oskar’s imagination and his ability to invent ways to save his dad and others on 9/11. Although photos can be depicted in millions of ways, one knows as a fact that the man jumping out of the WTC will die. Harrowing and disturbing, but true: the man will certainly die. Throughout the book, Oskar invents myriads of methods to save his father. Concerning his father’s death, Oskar still does not know. Sometimes, he searches for pictures of bodies falling on 9/11 in hope to find someone that looks like his dad to quell his uncertainty (Foer 256). In the end, in Oskar’s final invention to save his dad, he does the unimaginable and impossible. He reverses the falling man. Instead of the man plummeting over one hundred stories to his death, he angelically floats upwards, turning chaos and death into heavenly beauty. This form choice highlights Oskar’s creative thinking in which he is able to find a solution to an unsolvable and irreversible event. Although impossible, Oskar’s imagination saves the man who was certainly going to die. The man could be Oskar’s dad, or he may not be. But, Oskar’s pure soul still saves him. The common phrase A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words is incorrect. Here, Foer makes each picture worth thousands, millions, billions of words. Since 9/11 was the “most visually documented event in human history (Foer, 2005),” the constant use of photos and videos captured still has a significant effect on any viewer, including Oskar and Grandma. While communicating the mind of the Falling Man would be impossible as he plunges down over one hundred stories, Oskar is able to invent solutions, using the powers of illusion and creativity. By manipulating paralinguistic means of communication, Oskar throughout the book is able to speak on behalf of others and truly communicate his thoughts. 

By using numerical and lexical paralanguage, Foer creates meaning while also allowing for various forms of interpretation, highlighting the fundamental role of paralinguistics. In a moment that reflects the emotions and paralanguage surrounding 9/11, Grandpa, when trying to telecommunicate to reach Grandma, breaks down his life into a series of numbers: For love I pressed "5, 6, 8, 3," for death, "3, 3, 2, 8, 4," when the suffering is subtracted from the joy, what remains? What, I wondered, is the sum of my life? "6, 9, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 7, 3, 5, 4, 3, 2, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8, 8, 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4, 6, 3, 3, 3, 8, 6, 3, 4, 6, 3, 6, 7, 3, 4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 7! (Foer 269) Grandpa breaks down his life into a series of numbers, creating a sense of minimalism, an ode to the “something and nothing places (Foer 110),” perhaps. The paralinguistic role of telecommunication highlights Grandpa’s trauma. To receive the sum of his life, Grandpa subtracts his time suffering from his joy, which leaves a series of numbers. During this quote, Grandpa is typing in these numbers over the phone to Grandma. Their ability to communicate with each other grows throughout the book. Initially, before Grandpa left, they were unable to communicate, which drove them apart. They learned together, however, the key ability to communicate, ultimately bringing them back together. The novel overall “self-reflexively foregrounds its visuality as a printed text and highlights the significance of materiality for the meaning-making process (Siegel 73).” The multimediality of Foer’s writing/Oskar’s imagination creates a paralinguistic narrative that tells a different story: the chronicle of understanding trauma. In another chapter, the words in Grandpa’s chapter, Why I’m Not Where You Are 9/11/03, shift closer and closer together, eventually overlapping and becoming unable to read (Foer 278-284) (Appendix C). The use of paralanguage in this chapter highlights the constriction and linguistic suppression Grandpa faces as someone who cannot verbally express himself. The overlapping and ultimately illegibly dark words emphasize how Grandpa is limited to what he can say cannot say, highlighting his chronic trauma. However, he manages to articulate his feelings privately, as readers are unable to distinguish any words from the dark block of text. Similarly, the overlapping text also prevents readers from learning about Grandpa’s subsequent actions in order to tell the story exclusively from Oskar’s point of view later in the novel. Overall, the linguistic constraints on Grandpa’s life and his ability to communicate are translated into paralanguage, which allows Grandpa’s clouded thoughts to be analyzed and interpreted in hundreds of different ways, without him having to say a word. Indeed, these various forms of paralanguage “introduce the unsettling nature of the events into the very texture of the prose (Versluys 80).” While, in many works, authors use paralanguage as a stylistic choice to animate the novel and to make it more engaging, Foer’s inclusion of paralanguage is a necessity to understand the novel on a deeper level. Moreover, without paralinguistic means of communication, Oskar’s journey would be neither emotional nor engaging. Readers are able to see inside Oskar’s mind, learn about his thought process, and understand his actions. Foer’s distinct use of paralanguage is critical to reading the novel in the way Foer intends it to be: understanding its countless layers of stories and historical accuracy.

Although not a form of paralanguage, other distinct uses of text capture historical accuracy, which creates a renewed depth of the novel. The New York Times’ front page published the day after 9/11 emphasizes the terror and uncertainty felt. The eye-catching central photo that assumes nearly half of the spread depicts the Twin Towers in which the North Tower is burning from the first plane and the South Tower is exploding from the second plane. The bold and uppercase headline reads “U.S. ATTACKED” followed by an italicized and uppercase short summary of the day’s events: “HIJACKED JETS DESTROY TWIN TOWERS AND HIT PENTAGON IN DAY OF TERROR (New York Times).” The other four photos on the front page show United Airlines Flight 75 just before it crashes into the South Tower, the NY Fire Department on Ground Zero standing on rubble, a fiery Pentagon after the third plane crashed into the building, and a survivor covered in dust and blood being helped by other New Yorkers (Appendix B). The feature anecdotal article begins with the four words, “It kept getting worse (New York Times),” which underscores the confusion and voicelessness felt on 9/11. Although The New York Times does not in any way reference the characters in Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, the characters all interact with the constant visual reminders of 9/11, such as the front page the day after 9/11. These immortal and reoccurring photos of the smoking, and eventually, collapsed buildings haunt each character. One of the central sources of Grandma’s trauma, the constant viewing of media showing “planes crashing into buildings” (Foer 230, 231, 232), can be seen in the images viewed by millions. The imagery used in an attempt to summarize the day does no justice. Of course, The New York Times can only do so much, but the anger, the horror, the sadness, the confusion, and the fear can never be captured in a one-page spread. Although words failed millions, The New York Times was still able to use voicelessness as a means to report. The broad term of paralanguage encapsulates both lexical and nonlexical forms. While images may be more eye-catching and striking, Foer’s profound use of lexical paralanguage communicates the unspeakable in a redefined method.

The confusion during 9/11 seeps into the post-9/11 era, emphasizing how little survivors knew about the victims, creating familiarity amongst survivors in addition to underscoring the initial uncertainty Americans faced. When major news channels began reporting on an unconfirmed “explosion” at the World Trade Center, substantive information was absent:

This just in, you are looking at obviously a very disturbing live shot there. That is the World Trade Center, and we have unconfirmed reports this morning that a plane has crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. CNN Center right now is just beginning to work on this story, obviously calling our sources and trying to figure out exactly what happened. But clearly something relatively devastating happened there. (CNN) 

The news anchor highlights the uncertainty of the received information: “unconfirmed reports,” “just beginning to work on the story,” and “trying to figure out exactly what happened (CNN).” Before the first plane crashed into the North Tower, the stock market futures were in the green. As the commentary on the WTC progressed, however, the DOW, NAS, and S&P plunged into the red, emphasizing American uncertainty and the general public’s reaction to the unfolding events (Appendix A). While those outside the WTC were able to see aerial videos of the smoking towers, victims inside the buildings relied on telecommunication to reach their families. Foer quickly introduces the phone messages left by Oskar’s father, Thomas, who died on 9/11. Since the novel is set over one year after his death, Thomas’s voice can only be remembered and communicated through pre-recorded messages:  

Message two. 9:12 A.M. It’s me again. Are you there? Hello? Sorry if. It’s getting a bit. Smoky. I was hoping you would. Be. Home. I don’t know if you’ve heard about what’s happened. But. I. Just wanted you to know that I’m OK. Everything. Is. Fine. When you get this, give Grandma a call. Let her know that I’m OK. I’ll call again in a few minutes. Hopefully the firemen will be. Up here by then. I’ll call. (Foer 69) 

Foer’s use of telecommunication is central to Oskar’s ability to cope with trauma. While Oskar cannot communicate with his father after he dies on 9/11, he remains in contact with him by listening to his last five voicemails on repeat. While harboring the last few moments of his father’s life is not helpful in the process of overcoming trauma, Oskar can still hear his father’s voice, which is critical for keeping his memory and spirit alive. When someone’s innocent life is stolen, as thousands were on 9/11, it becomes understandable why Oskar chooses to honor his father’s last words. On the other end of the phone, Thomas Schell inadvertently emphasizes his innocence. At the time, he genuinely believed “Everything. Is. Fine.” (Foer 69), yet nothing was fine: wariness, anger, and sadness dramatically rose in ways America had never seen before. As more details were announced throughout the morning of September 11th, the uncertainty persisted and the innocence dwindled. Although neither Oskar nor Oskar’s mother answered the phone, telecommunication was incredibly important in the spread of information surrounding the attacks. Indeed, Thomas Schell’s hopefulness, such as the firemen reaching the top floor, underscores the innocence and optimism victims kept while hoping to be rescued. From the nations’ leading news channels to those trapped in the WTC, it is clear that nobody could have predicted the horrors America was yet to face.

Historically, uncertainty and confusion dramatically increased during 9/11, which Foer parallels in his characters, creating realistic scenarios to which Americans can relate. Confusion soared on 9/11: “I was watching TV and there was this sonic boom. And the TV went out, and I thought maybe that the concord was back in service cause I heard about the sonic boom… the side of the WTC exploded right when I looked up (CNN).” Eyewitnesses who were interviewed in the few minutes between the first plane crash and the second plane crash explained how they heard an explosion in the World Trade Center. The concept of hijacked planes or a terrorist attack was simply not on the radar of New Yorkers in downtown Manhattan. Only the term “explosion” was used until the second plane crashed into the South Tower, then people reevaluated. The voice of Winston Mitchell, an eyewitness located at the base of the WTC, was broadcasted live for several minutes with CNN. While Mitchell was on the air, the CNN anchor saw the second plane crash into the South Tower. “We got an explosion (CNN),” the anchor said calmly. Over the phone, however, Mitchell shouts frantically before disconnecting: “The building’s exploding right now. You got people running up the streets. I don’t know what’s going on (CNN).” The mass hysteria and confusion that plagued New York the morning of 9/11 was unparalleled, unprecedented, and uncontrollable. One acts habitually during times of crisis and chaos, but the events on 9/11 were unrivaled and striking. Without any prior knowledge on how to respond, disarray and uncertainty rapidly escalated. Indeed, the absence of proper means of communication and public access to answers contributed to the mass confusion.

Foer amplifies the role of voicelessness through Grandma’s 9/11 experience, creating a narrative in which Grandma’s trauma overtakes her. Grandma's lifelong experience with voicelessness, from her various traumas, is intensified specifically upon learning about the 9/11 attacks: “When the second plane hit, the woman who was giving the news started to scream. A ball of fire rolled out of the building and up. One million pieces of paper filled the sky. They stayed there, like a ring around the building. Like the rings of Saturn (Foer 225).” The “never forget” mentality concerning 9/11 urges all Americans to remember the day in vivid detail. This happens naturally, however. Traumatic memories are not stored in narrative memories. Instead, memories from 9/11 create their own region within the mind (Versluys 79). Both Grandma and Grandpa remember in rich detail all aspects of their 9/11 experience, including what they heard, saw, and felt. The graphic specifics Grandma recalls underscore her inability to subconsciously convert her traumatic memories into narrative memory, or in other words, Grandma suffers from an incapacity to overcome her trauma. By using profound language and imagery, Foer can communicate, to a certain extent, the horrors seen and felt on 9/11. The power of language and communication is magnified, moreover, during the quick yet important phone call between Grandma and Oskar’s mother: “Your mother called. Are you watching the news? Yes. Have you heard from Thomas? No... I haven't heard from him. But he's at the store. He had a meeting in that building and I haven't heard from him. I turned my head and thought I would vomit. I dropped the phone, ran to the toilet, and vomited (Foer 225).” Similar to the previous quote, the crucial role of telecommunication in the spread of information is apparent in the dialogue above between Grandma and her daughter-in-law. The role of voicelessness in this excerpt, where Grandma ultimately vomits instead of expressing her feelings, marks the beginning of trauma, which initially arises from uncertainty and voicelessness. It is bittersweet to see the innocence of Grandma, in addition to the other characters, when the events of 9/11 first started. In this specific quote, Grandma’s language is defined by her actions rather than her verbal communication. Her inability to successfully communicate her feelings, despite her narrated chapters being titled My Feelings, is emphasized when she explains how she “dropped the phone, ran to the toilet, and vomited (Foer 225).” Indeed, the continued power of Foer’s language makes the reader feel as if they are Grandma and they feel Grandma’s trauma, which is central to understanding the role of language and emotion on 9/11. 

Foer reintroduces the idea of lexical paralanguage when Grandpa, in a similar experience as Grandma, is chronically haunted by his surroundings from when he first learned about the attacks: “I wrote, "What's happened?" and showed it to a young businessman watching the television, he took a sip of his coffee and said, "No one knows yet," his coffee haunts me, his "yet" haunts me (Foer 272).” This is the only time Grandpa directly interacts with 9/11. Instead, throughout the book, he grapples with the psychological impacts taking place after 9/11 and not during the actual morning of 9/11. The linguistic status of 9/11 is only written about briefly and indirectly for each character, including Grandma as well. Trauma clearly trumps the ability to communicate, causing a loss of words. Indeed, this scene creates trauma for all New Yorkers, a morning of terror/“the worst day (Foer 11)”, which generates many severe psychological effects. Grandpa is confused, “I didn’t understand what I was seeing (Foer 272),” he says to himself. Historically, people remember where they were and what they were doing when they first saw the burning buildings. Grandpa explains how language such as “yet” and the coffee the man was holding haunts him even one year later. While each character’s exposure to 9/11 is vastly different, the traumatizing impacts of when they first saw the WTC and the video of a plane crashing into a building homogenizes their experiences, creating a renewed sense of “normal,” which is certainly different than its previous definition. Similarly, repeating sights of burning buildings creates significantly more psychological damage. Grandpa, like Grandma, suffers from the same illness of constantly seeing the same traumatizing multimedia of planes crashing into the WTC. The poetic “one hundred ceilings had become one hundred floors (Foer 272)” creates a sense of a simplistic calamity during brutal chaos, which emphasizes how language can alter everything. Language can be equally as powerful even without words. Voicelessness illustrates how one communicates in times of chaos, which speaks volumes about one’s ability to find other ways to communicate, especially by using paralinguistic means of communication. 

Foer redefines the anger felt on and after 9/11, merging it with confusion and strengthening it to eclipse other emotions, creating a wave of anger that impacts both language and trauma. Even before 9/11, Grandma became a victim of a new layer of trauma after losing her sister in the Dresden Bombings during WWII. She projects bravery while she is very weak, and her repressed trauma spends years accumulating before she finally breaks on the day she loses her son, 9/11: 

When I no longer had to be strong in front of you, I became very weak. I brought myself to the ground, which was where I belonged. I hit the floor with my fists. I wanted to break my hands, but when it hurt too much, I stopped. I was too selfish to break my hands. I had to go to the bathroom. I didn't want to get up. I wanted to lie in my own waste, which is what I deserved. I wanted to be a pig in my own filth. But I got up and went to the bathroom. That's who I am. Bodies falling. Buildings falling. The rings of the tree that fell away from our house. I wanted so much for it to be me under the rubble. Even for a minute. A second. It was as simple as wanting to take his place. And it was more complicated than that. (Foer 232) 

This profoundly exhausting quote emphasizes Grandma’s continued experience with attempting to understand 9/11 and her experience with the psychological impact it has on her psyche. Her weakness overtakes her, damaging her self-esteem and self-worth. Her love for her son, Thomas, has changed her into a metaphorical puddle of sadness. She expresses how she wants to trade places with her son, under the rubble, meaning she would die for her son, which is sensical. Moreover, Grandma has undergone and survived hosts of trauma throughout her life and knows the events of 9/11 would cause even more psychological pain. In this quote, Grandma’s actions represent the swift transition from sanity to insanity, which is both disturbing and understandable. Foer’s use of language creates senses of desperation, emptiness, desolation, and dubiety. Grandma, a victim of severe trauma, is unable to process her traumatic memories, which would help her slowly overcome her decades of psychological damage: “The traumatic event is a blank, in the face of which words always and necessarily fall short. And yet trauma must be spoken. Trauma leads to numbness, flashbacks, or nightmares. Trauma must be given place within one’s recollection in order to heal. In other words, trauma must be turned into narrative memory (Versluys 79).” This is crucial to understanding the linguistic capabilities of each character. Although the characters themselves may not be having flashbacks, Foer’s inclusion of many flashbacks throughout the book emphasizes the prominence of linguistic trauma. From the Dresden bombings to Hiroshima to stories about the Sixth Borough, past memories haunt the present. Moreover, Oskar is unable to think about his dad without remembering “the worst day (Foer 11).” All of his memories are polluted by traumatic memories from 9/11, which explains why both his and Grandma’s words “always and necessarily fall short (Versluys 79).” Similarly, the constant reminder of “planes going into buildings (Foer 230, 231, 232)” taints Grandma’s memories of her son. In fact, she mentally repeats that same line, “planes going into buildings (Foer 230, 231, 232),” dozens of times whenever she thinks about Thomas’s death. Additionally, Grandma’s memories about Anna are tarnished by Grandma’s inability to tell her “I love you (Foer 314)” the night before she died. Kristiaan Versluys stresses the need for trauma to be stored in the “narrative memory (79)” in order to heal. Otherwise, people will try to make sense of trauma, which is not necessarily possible. Versluys provides reasoning and deconstructs the path for each character to reclaim their humanity and overcome their trauma. Even if each character takes a different coping path, they all face the same “intrusive symptoms (79)” and ultimately find meaning. The rage felt on 9/11 was not by any means conventional. Twisted and intensified, the rage made New Yorkers such as Grandma subconsciously react in a manner that reflects the heightened presence of trauma.

Regardless of one's ability to communicate, the events of 9/11 stripped the power of language from Americans, creating a widespread period of voicelessness. Grandpa, for example, who is already unable to communicate verbally, experiences a loss of words. For Americans, “the television was the only light (Foer 232)” as they watched the Twin Towers reduce to a memory. Reporters, whose job is to communicate daily events, were also left in shock: “There as you can see perhaps the second tower, the front tower, the top portion of which is collapsing. Good lord. There are no words... This is just a horrific scene and a horrific moment (CNN).” The lack of words proves to be strong enough and powerful enough to describe what happened. In the end, words failed the anchor as they did everyone in New York. The inability to communicate what one just witnessed is a central theme of how words fail humans in general, even though the reporter was watching the towers collapse with his own two eyes. Grandpa experiences a similar reaction to trauma. He lost words such as “loss,” “yes,” and “no,” highlighting how severe trauma impacts one’s ability to speak (Foer 16-17). According to Michael Cohn, the writer of “Linguistic Markers of Psychological Change Surrounding September 11, 2001,” “In the confusion and speculation that followed the attacks, people sought to understand the causes and meanings of the events and, perhaps, of issues in their own lives… The fear and uncertainty experienced after September 11 may have eventually become a similar impediment to people’s capacity to process complex information (691).” Proving the psychological meaning behind Oskar’s journey, Cohn illustrates how the journey to find meaning and humanity after a tragedy is normal, explaining how people “sought to understand the causes and meanings of events (Cohn 691).” There are many instances in which Oskar lacks the ability to process complex information, which, according to the study, is caused by the fear and uncertainty experienced after 9/11, including Oskar’s meeting with his therapist which internally turned violent (Foer 203), Oskar’s inability to understand why Thomas Schell was not in Mr. Black’s list of notable people (Foer 159), and why Mr. Black told Oskar that he was done with his journey (Foer 254). Oskar easily understands so much about the world, history, and astronomy, especially for a nine-year-old, but cannot comprehend the events on 9/11. He does not understand why or how his father died. In the end, terrorists took the lives of thousands of innocent people, which nobody can ever fully understand. Perhaps not understanding his father’s death or 9/11 is a method of keeping these events from being real. Moreover, Oskar is on a journey meant for adults: trying to understand the events on 9/11. Even if he finds more information about his dad, he will still never understand why an innocent man was killed. After 102 horrific and terrorizing minutes, the North Tower collapsed, a frightfully mesmerizing scene in which “one hundred ceilings had become one hundred floors, which had become nothing (Foer 272).” Good Morning America (GMA) anchors reacted to the collapse of the North Tower in a similar fashion as Oskar’s inability to process complex information: “They seem to have a problem at the North Tower. Just look at the North Tower quickly coming down. Oh My God. The Second Tower. It’s hard to put it into words, and maybe one doesn’t need to. There is simply no way to accurately describe the emotion this evokes (GMA).” Once again, Americans were at a loss of words. What America witnessed was indescribable. The voicelessness and psychological effects 9/11 has on the mind is profound. A journalist on the air, whose job is to speak about the most harrowing events, was unable to articulate the emotions he was feeling. The loss of words is mirrored in Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close in which Grandpa is simply unable to communicate his trauma, Grandma is ironically unable to converse her feelings, Oskar cannot understand why and how his father died no matter how hard he tries, and Americans are powerless at trying to comprehend the reasoning behind the evil murder of thousands. The sheer power of voicelessness in controlling cognitive processing and language is amplified in the reactions to 9/11. The trauma and voicelessness, moreover, persist far after “the worst day (Foer 11).”

Although the novel is based on 9/11, the psychological impact that follows creates a new storyline in which Foer explores the emotions, unresolved questions, and trauma-inducing effects of 9/11 through the lens of his characters. Moreover, even though Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close is a fictional work, Foer manages to address historically realistic topics, such as addressing uncertainties New Yorkers confronted after 9/11. Through Oskar, Foer echoes the American experience after 9/11 as one of continued wariness, leading his imagination to invent methods that save his father from dying: 

In bed that night I invented a special drain that would be underneath every pillow in New York, and would connect to the reservoir. Whenever people cried themselves to sleep, the tears would all go to the same place, and in the morning the weatherman could report if the Reservoir of Tears had gone up or down, and you could know if New York was in heavy boots. Anyway. And when something really terrible happened—like a nuclear bomb, or at least a biological weapons attack—an extremely loud siren would go off, telling everyone to get to Central Park to put sandbags around the reservoir. (Foer 38)

Since he uses the phrase “in bed that night” instead of “one night”, we know this is an invention that Oskar imagines in the present, which is around one year after 9/11. Mitja Back argues in “The Emotional Timeline of September 11, 2001” that “people did not react primarily with sadness; that they experienced several anxiety outbursts, but recovered quickly (Back 1418).” Oskar did not react initially with sadness, but it is clear that Oskar is undergoing severe emotional trauma that has been building up since his father’s death. In addition, the recurring phrase and portion of the book title, “extremely loud (Foer 38),” reappears here, emphasizing the noise, anger, and confusion of a loud siren, which leads to Oskar’s many anxiety outbursts, proving Back’s thesis. Lastly, the “anyway” at the end of the quote highlights Oskar’s spunky personality, his initial inability to realize how he suffers from extreme trauma, and his tendency to “recover quickly (Back 1418),” despite him not actually recovering from his trauma by simply denouncing its existence. He plays off the Reservoir of Tears, a profoundly poetic invention of which no nine-year-old should be thinking, proceeding to mentally switch topics, using “anyway” as a means to ignore his trauma. In order to overcome his trauma, Oskar attempts to conquer his fear of heights, originating on 9/11, by venturing to the Empire State Building, but his accomplishment was diluted by his continued wariness: “Even though I knew the view was incredibly beautiful, my brain started misbehaving, and the whole time I was imagining a plane coming at the building, just below us. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop (Foer 244).” In this chapter, Oskar encourages himself, with the help of Mr. Black, to visit the observation deck of the Empire State Building in an attempt to find Ruth Black. While visiting the Empire State Building observation deck may seem normal for anyone else, Oskar has many fears relating to 9/11 and the makeup of the WTC itself, including “tall buildings,” and “elevators” (Foer 36). Oskar is coerced into facing his fears, which causes his mind to wander and imagine planes crashing into the Empire State Building, caused by his traumatic memories of seeing planes crash into the WTC. Although Oskar describes the view as “incredibly beautiful (Foer 244),” The psychological impact of 9/11 leads him to mentally “misbehave (Foer 244).” Oskar then continues to describe his encounter with the terrorist pilot of the plane that would crash into the Empire State Building, further proving the presence of significant psychological trauma: “I hate you, my eyes would tell him. I hate you his eyes would tell me (Foer 244).” The idea of conversation through Oskar’s and the terrorist's eyes creates a form of nonlexical communication. Moreover, the juxtaposition between the “incredibly beautiful (Foer 244)” view and the terrorist pilot creates a sense of chaos and how beauty can be tainted with evil. Lastly, part of overcoming trauma is simply confronting it. Over a year after 9/11, Oskar is still challenged by his fears, emphasizing the ability for trauma to continue and persevere long after 9/11. Although at this point, Oskar does not seem to have faced his fears, he is leaning in the right direction and will ultimately conquer them. 

Despite the events of 9/11 happening within 102 minutes, the effects of 9/11 persist far after the towers collapsed. The abruptness of the attacks left the victim's families with feelings of perpetual confusion and uncertainty. Oskar, on the other hand, chooses to do anything to learn more about his father, especially in an attempt to understand “how he died, exactly how he died (Foer 257).” Oskar’s journey is defined by his desire to learn more about his father, specifically his father’s death, in order to obtain closure and find his lost humanity. While his journey initially begins as a means to uncover more about his father, Oskar ultimately learns more about himself and what he is capable of as well as his ability to communicate and cope with trauma. Over a year later for Oskar, his mind, clouded with traumatic memories, is unable to focus on anything else. Throughout the book, which takes place over many months, Oskar as a narrator only details the portions of his life in which he is on his journey. He does not discuss school, except for in memories, or anything else regarding his life outside of his trek around New York City, highlighting how his defining moments as a character happen outside of school, when he is learning about his father. Oskar, however, is unable to express his feelings concerning his father’s death and his trauma, emphasizing the severity of the trauma and its ability to persevere far after 9/11. “I’m going to bury my feelings deep inside me (Foer 203),” Oskar says to his therapist, “No matter how much I feel, I’m not going to let it out (Foer 203).” Oskar is not alone in his thought processing. The events of September 11th induced “a state of psychological shock in which Americans became more cognitively wary, more detached, and less experiential (Cohn 692).” Oskar chooses to suppress his feelings and emotions because he does not have people to talk to about his feelings (including the therapist) that he trusts, relating to the recurring theme of communication and language. Burying one’s feelings is exactly how Oskar’s grandparents “cope” with their trauma, which does not work. The transgenerational inability to cope with trauma is emphasized here, as Oskar does not understand the dangers of repressing his feelings. Oskar’s evident feelings of sadness are underscored further when he explains how he will “cry on the inside (Foer 203)” and how talking to someone “doesn’t help anything (Foer 203).” “People adopt a variety of defenses in dealing with threatening events… one of the most common is distancing or detachment (Cohn 688).” Oskar’s choice to psychologically distance himself from his problems and from his family emphasizes the prominence of trauma and wariness in Oskar’s life. Furthermore, The term wary, in a sense, is synonymous with Oskar’s term “panicky”. While Oskar is definitely still in a state of grief, distress, and anger throughout the book, he is overarchingly in a state of anxiousness. Readers learn early on about a list of Oskar’s panicky fears: things that “even after a year, [he] still had an extremely difficult time doing (Foer 36).” A fusion of rational and irrational fears, some of his “panicky” fears include “suspension bridges, germs, airplanes, fireworks, Arab people on the subway (even though I'm not racist), Arab people in restaurants and coffee shops and other public places, scaffolding, sewers and subway grates (Foer 36).” Oskar’s caution or wariness defines him as a character and makes him appear more human, as emphasized by this quote. Oskar’s irrational and panicky fears unite him with other New Yorkers even one year after 9/11. Moreover, it shows his progression of coping with trauma. The first stage is, of course, denial, in which those affected challenge and discredit their trauma. Oskar, over time, has ventured past this stage. His ability to name his fears, even though he might not be able to understand what caused them, is a sign that Oskar is continuing on his path towards acceptance. He is not angry; he has accepted his fears for who he is, even if some are irrational. In addition, his ability to articulate his fears illustrates his growing maturity level and highlights how successful communication plays a key role in coping with trauma. Throughout the book, Oskar is tasked with facing some of these fears on his journey, which moves him into the second stage of acceptance. However, one cannot disregard the sheer size of Oskar’s list of fears, which emphasizes the psychological damage of 9/11, and how “even after a year,” some fears still remain. Oskar is neither denying the fact that his father died nor denying his fears: he accepts them and realizes that it makes him human. Already past the first stage of denial, Oskar is on the path to acceptance, which he achieves at the end of the book. While the many significant psychological impacts continue months after September 11, the healing process, which each character undergoes, depicted by the role of paralanguage and communication, is central to mastering trauma and ultimately coming to peace.

According to his wife, James F. Murphy IV had a smiling soul. Jacquelyn Sanchez wanted to save the world. Timothy C. Stout’s kids had a multitalented father. Although Kazushige Ito was born in Hiroshima, his wife knows he loved New York more than most natives. Robert Deraney was pretty much perfect, according to his sister (Portraits of Grief). Thomas Schell was a good father. To boil down one’s entire persona into brief language is undoubtedly difficult. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, a full-length novel, similarly fails to thoroughly detail the entire life of Thomas Schell. But how could it? Even if there was a novel hundreds of thousands of pages long, one could never present an entire life in prose. Life continues forever, even after death. But what about an event? An event with a distinguished beginning and ending? Could one communicate 102 minutes in a word, a sentence, a novel, a film? Rich emotions, unparalleled reactions, life, and death could argue otherwise. While reducing a person, or 102 minutes, to a phrase is indisputably impossible, it is also quite difficult to compare such profound events to anything. Initially, 9/11 was “relatively devastating (CNN),” according to a CNN anchor. The term “relatively” indicates a comparison to something else. When the anchor said “relatively devastating,” she subconsciously compared the explosion at the WTC to another event. Of course, she was speaking without a prepared speech as the news was breaking, but as the day continues, the vocabulary used to describe the events transitioned from “relatively devastating” to simply “devastating,” needing no comparison to any other event. By the end of the day, 9/11 redefined the word devastating in a way news anchors at 8:49AM could have never predicted. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close addresses 9/11 clearly and distinctly, using myriads of form and engaging content, making the novel unparalleled to any other literary work regarding 9/11 and its profound psychological impact. The novel is a memorial for 9/11 in which both survivors and those born after 9/11, such as myself, can understand and relate to language. By fusing the narratives of voicelessness, confusion, paralanguage, and tragedy, Jonathan Safran Foer therapeutically articulates his story of 9/11 through the embodiment of Oskar, helping readers reflect, grow, and accept their trauma. In the end, I broke my paper down into letters, for trauma I pressed "8, 7, 2, 8, 6, 2," for love, " 5, 6, 8, 3," for death, “3, 3, 2, 8, 4,” for Hello?, “4, 2, 5, 5, 6?,” when the paralanguage is subtracted from the prose, what remains? What, I wondered, is the sum of my paper? “6, 9, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 7, 3, 5, 4, 3, 2, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8, 8, 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4, 6, 3, 3, 3, 8, 6, 3, 4, 6, 3, 6, 7, 3, 4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 7! 6, 4, 3, 2, 2, 6, 7, 4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 7, 2, 6, 3, 4, 3? 5, 7, 6, 3, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 9, 2, 8, 8, 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4, 6, 3, 3, 3, 8! 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4! 6, 3, 3, 3, 8, 6, 3, 9, 6, 3, 6, 6, 3, 4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 7! 6, 4, 3, 2, 2, 6, 7, 4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 7, 2, 6, 3, 4, 3? 5, 7, 6, 3, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8! 7, 7, 4, 8. 3, 2, 8, 8, 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4, 6, 3, 3, 3, 8, 6, 3, 4, 6, 3, 6, 7, 3, 4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 7! 6, 4, 3, 2, 2, 6, 7, 4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 7, 2, 6, 3, 4, 3? 5, 7, 6, 3, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 9, 2, 8, 8, 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4, 6, 3, 3, 3, 8! 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4! 6, 3, 3, 3, 8, 6, 3, 9, 6, 3, 6, 6, 3, 4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 7! 6, 4, 3, 2, 2, 6, 7, 4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 7, 2, 6, 3, 4, 3? 5, 7, 6, 3, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8! 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8, 3, 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 6, 6, 7, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 9, 2, 8, 8, 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4, 6, 3, 3, 3, 8! 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4! 3, 5, 3, 2, 2, 3, 3, 2, 6, 3, 4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 3, 2, 6, 3, 4, 3? 5, 6, 8, 3? 5, 3, 6, 3, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 2, 7, 7, 4, 6, 7, 4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 7, 2, 6, 3, 4, 3? 5, 7, 6, 3, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8! 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8, 3, 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 6, 6, 7, 8, 4, 6, 8, 3, 8, 8, 6, 3, 4, 6, 3, 6, 7, 3, 4, 6, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 9, 8, 8, 4, 3, 2, 4, 5, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4, 6, 3, 5, 5, 2, 6, 9, 4, 6, 5, 6, 7, 5, 4, 6! 5, 2, 6, 2, 6, 5, 9, 5, 2! 6, 3, 3, 3, 8, 6, 3, 9, 6, 3, 6, 6, 3, 4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 7! 6, 4, 3, 2, 2, 6, 7, 4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 7, 2, 6, 3, 4, 3? 5, 7, 6, 3, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4! 6, 3, 3, 3, 8, 6, 3, 9, 6, 3, 6, 6, 3, 4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 7! 6, 4, 3, 2, 2, 6, 7, 4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 7, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8! 7, 7, 4, 8. 3, 2, 8, 8, 4, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 9, 4, 6, 5, 6, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4, 6, 8, 6, 3, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8, 3, 4, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 9, 8, 8, 4, 4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 7! 6, 4, 3, 2, 2, 1, 8, 9, 2,4, 5, 6, 1, 2, 2, 9, 4?”

Works Cited

Back, Mitja D., et al. "The Emotional Timeline of September 11, 2001." Psychological Science, vol. 21, no. 10, 2010, pp. 1417–1419. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41062499. Accessed 23 Apr. 2020.

Cohn, Michael A., et al. "Linguistic Markers of Psychological Change Surrounding September 11, 2001." Psychological Science, vol. 15, no. 10, 2004, pp. 687–693. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/40064028. Accessed 30 Apr. 2020.

Foer, Jonathan Safran. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Houghton Mifflin, 2005.

Good Morning America. Hosted by Diane Sawyer and Charles Gibson, ABC, 11 Sept. 2001

Mudge, Alden, and Jonathan Safran Foer. "Up Close and Personal." BookPage, Apr. 2005.

"9/11: "CNN: September 11th 2001." YouTube, uploaded by Here Is The News, 9 Sept. 2011, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CH1nHRFQaIU. Accessed 30 Apr. 2020.

"Portraits of Grief." The New York Times, The New York Times, 10 Aug. 2011, archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/interactive/us/sept-11-reckoning/portraits-of-grief.html.

Schmemann, Serge, et al. "U.S. ATTACKED; HIJACKED JETS DESTROY TWIN TOWERS AND HIT PENTAGON IN DAY OF TERROR." The New York Times, 12 Sept. 2001, pp. Front Page.a

Siegel, Elisabeth. "Stuff That Happened to Me: Visual Memory in Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2005)." Contemporary Literary Criticism, edited by Jeffrey W. Hunter, vol. 301, Gale, 2011. Gale Literature Criticism, https://link-gale-com.sufsd.idm.oclc.org/apps/doc/QNVYST123670245/GLS?u=nysl_me_scarshs&sid=GLS&xid=0749f395. Accessed 8 June 2020. Originally published in Current Objectives of Postgraduate American Studies, vol. 10, 2009.

Versluys, Kristiaan. "A Rose Is Not a Rose Is Not a Rose: History and Language in Jonathan Saffran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close." Contemporary Literary Criticism, edited by Jeffrey W. Hunter, vol. 301, Gale, 2011. Gale Literature Criticism, https://link-gale-com.sufsd.idm.oclc.org/apps/doc/QWFSAH067015939/GLS?u=nysl_me_scarshs&sid=GLS&xid=f4ac5520. Accessed 4 May 2020. Originally published in Out of the Blue: September 11 and the Novel, Columbia University Press, 2009, pp. 79-119.

Appendix A

"9/11: “CNN: September 11th 2001." YouTube, uploaded by Here Is The News, 9 Sept. 

2011, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CH1nHRFQaIU. Accessed 30 Apr. 2020. 

Appendix B

Schmemann, Serge, et al. “U.S. ATTACKED; HIJACKED JETS DESTROY TWIN TOWERS AND HIT 

PENTAGON IN DAY OF TERROR.” The New York Times, 12 Sept. 2001, pp. Front Page.

Appendix C

Foer, Jonathan Safran. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Houghton Mifflin, 2005.

Appendix D

Foer, Jonathan Safran. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Houghton Mifflin, 2005.