Audiobook Sample

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Dear kindred spirits of literary exploration,

As I sit in my book-lined study, the autumn light filtering through my window just as it did when I first taught this novel at Berkeley, I’m reminded why Jonathan Safran Foer’s “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” remains one of the most innovative explorations of grief in contemporary literature. The audiobook version, narrated by the talented trio of Barbara Caruso, Jeff Woodman, and Richard Ferrone, offers a profoundly different experience from the printed page – one that I’ve found myself returning to repeatedly since that rainy Tokyo afternoon when I first listened while walking through Shinjuku’s bustling streets.

What fascinates me most is how the audiobook medium transforms Foer’s experimental narrative structure. The novel’s three distinct voices – precocious Oskar, his silent grandfather, and his grandmother – become even more vivid through the narrators’ performances. Barbara Caruso’s rendition of Oskar captures his brilliant, neurodivergent mind with perfect pitch, her voice oscillating between childlike wonder and heartbreaking wisdom. This reminds me of when I compared different language versions of Murakami’s works in Tokyo – how voice actors can reveal dimensions of character that silent reading might miss.

Through a cultural lens, the audiobook’s handling of the 9/11 backdrop is particularly striking. Richard Ferrone’s deep, gravelly tones for the grandfather’s letters create an aural texture that mirrors the character’s emotional scars, while Jeff Woodman brings a gentle vulnerability to the grandmother’s sections. The narrators’ careful pacing allows Foer’s unconventional typography and spacing – those visual elements so crucial to the printed book’s impact – to translate surprisingly well into auditory rhythm. During my Contemporary Fiction seminar, we debated whether experimental literature could work in audio format; this production proves it not only works but offers new interpretive possibilities.

The novel’s central metaphor – Oskar’s quest to find the lock matching his father’s key – becomes even more poignant in audio form. As listeners, we become fellow travelers on his New York odyssey, hearing the city’s cacophony through the narrators’ varied tones. The audiobook’s handling of the interspersed historical elements (particularly the Dresden bombing sections) creates a haunting counterpoint to Oskar’s post-9/11 journey that I find more emotionally immediate than the printed version.

From an academic perspective, the audiobook’s greatest triumph is its handling of Foer’s thematic exploration of communication breakdowns. The grandfather’s muteness, Oskar’s verbal torrents, the typed letters – all gain new resonance when performed. I’ve assigned both formats to my students and consistently find that audio listeners better grasp the novel’s meditation on how we express (and fail to express) love and loss.

However, the format isn’t without limitations. Some visual elements – like the grandfather’s increasingly crowded letters – lose their visceral impact. And while the narrators are generally superb, some listeners might find Caruso’s Oskar voice occasionally grating (though I’d argue this authentically reflects the character). The audio also demands closer attention than typical audiobooks to follow the non-linear structure.

Compared to similar works like “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” (another brilliant neurodivergent narrator) or “The Book Thief” (historical trauma through a child’s eyes), this audiobook stands out for its innovative use of the medium. It’s not just a reading but a reimagining of the text.

For potential listeners: prepare for an emotionally demanding but profoundly rewarding experience. Best absorbed in focused listening sessions rather than as background noise. Those who appreciate experimental narrative structures will find this especially compelling, while listeners preferring conventional plots might struggle.

Having now experienced “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” in print, ebook, and audio formats, I can confidently say the audiobook offers unique access to the novel’s emotional core. It’s a testament to how skilled narration can illuminate rather than simplify complex literature.

In scholarly solidarity and shared love for stories that challenge us,
Prof. Emily Chen