Photographs
On the first three pages of this novel, even before the title and the copyright page, we find three photographs. These images are of a lock, a flock of birds and the façade of a building. At first they don't have much sense. It is not until we read further into the story that their respective significance begins to take form. The lock corresponds to the doorknobs that were photographed by Oskar's grandfather; the birds are taken from the scene in which Mr. Black regains his hearing; and it can be assumed that one of the windows in the façade belongs to the appartment of Oskar's grandmother.
Throughout the book we are presented with different photographs, usually taken by Oskar with his grandfather's camera. They are always relevant inside the frame of the novel, even if at times they appear rather randomly. From page 53 to page 67 we are shown several photographs which are in one way or another related to the story but which are meant to be confusing. For example, the picture of the two tortoises, one on top of the other, is quite disturbing and its connection with the story is difficult to find. And with the photograph of the doorknobs, it is interesting to note that they are all different, and are supposedly those in Oskar's grandmother's apartment.
The image of the birds is once again repeated, this time magnified, on pages 166 and 167. It is a very poetic metaphor: when Oskar turns on Mr. Black's hearing aids he seems not to hear a thing, but then suddenly a flock of birds passes 'incredibly close' to the window and they chirp 'extremely loud'. It is then that Mr. Black is overwhelmed with emotion and begins to cry. Also, on page 260-261 we see the photograph that Oskar takes of his grandfather's hands, on the pals of which he tattooed YES and NO. If we didn't fully grasp the description of his hands before, very often described as sculptor hands, we certainly do now. It is indeed an image that is quite difficult to shake from the mind.
The photograph of the person falling from one of the Twin Towers is also a recurrent one, and has different versions as well, just like the doorknob. This is a remarkable occurrence especially at the end of the novel, where we are shown fifteen pages of full-size images: the person falling helpless through the air and towards the earth. But the way it is structured invites the reader to flip the pages fast in order to get the optical illusion that the person is falling upwards, if such thing were ever possible, for the sequence is ordered in the opposite direction of what would considered logical. Just before the sequence of photographs Oskar reflects upon what could have happened if his dad had not died on that 'worst day'. As he lays awake, he thinks that if he had enough photos, the man could safely return into the building and the planes would never have crashed into the towers. This makes the set of pictures especially heart-breaking. Finally, there is another very poetic image: the one of the starred sky. It can be guessed that it is from the night that Oskar and his grandfather went to the cemetery to dig up the coffin of Oskar's father. Although I am not sure if it is possible to see so many stars in the middle of such a city, it is nonetheless a very beautiful photo.
EFFECT: In the first of Safran's novel, Everything is Illuminated, we find descriptions like: "the water leapt, the trees swayed in expectation, the sky slowly pulled up its blue dress to reveal night." (94) What if that was juxtaposed with a photograph of the landscape? Would it not be more powerful? In my opinion, no. I think imagination is the most powerful tool and that pictures are harmful to the development of mental images: with descriptions such as the one mentioned before, a picture would only serve to instantly warp and kill our mental image. However, in Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close I think it procures a different kind of effect, not because images don't prevent us to imagine things as we want (which they do) but because it is Oskar who takes the pictures in the story. Thus, it helps us to walk in his "heavy boots", seeing things as he does.