Amazon.co.uk Review
The simplest thing would be to describe
Everything is Illuminated, Jonathan Safran Foer's accomplished debut, as a novel about the Holocaust. It is, but that really fails to do justice to the sheer ambition of this book. The main story is a grimly familiar one. A young Jewish-American--who just happens to be called Jonathan Safran Foer--travels to the Ukraine in the hope of finding the woman who saved his grandfather from the Nazis. He is aided in his search by Alex Perchov, a naïve Ukrainian translator, Alex's grandfather (also called Alex) and a flatulent mongrel bitch, named Sammy Davis JR JR. On their journey through Eastern Europe's obliterated landscape they unearth facts about the Nazi atrocities and the extent of Ukrainian complicity that have implications for Perchov as well as Safran Foer. This narrative is not, however, recounted from (the character) Jonathan Safran Foer's perspective. It is relayed through a series of letters that Alex sends to Foer. These are written in the kind of broken Russo-English normally reserved for Bond villains and Latka from the US television series
Taxi. (Sentences such as "It is mammoth honour for me write for a writer, especially when he is American writer, like Ernest Hemingway"; "It is bad and popular habit for people in Ukraine to take things without asking" are the norm.) Interspersed between these letters are fragments of a novel by "Safran Foer"--a wonderfully imagined, almost magical realist, account of life in the Shetl before the Nazis destroyed it. These are in turn commented on by Alex creating an additional metafictional angle to the tale.
If all this sounds a little daunting don't be put off; Safran Foer is an extremely funny as well as intelligent writer. Admittedly he has an annoying habit of capitalising great chunks of text, but minor typographical nuances are easy to ignore in a book that combines some of the best Jewish folk yarns since Isaac Bashevis Singer with a quite heartbreaking meditation on love, friendship and loss. --Travis Elborough
Review
Jonathan Safran Foer's first book is a dazzling display of linguistic virtuosity; at times confusing, occasionally irritating in its self-consciousness, this is a challenging, exciting novel from an exhilarating young writer. It consists of disparate strands which are skilfully woven together to create a work of intense richness. The main storyline is young Jonathan Safran Foer's search for the mysterious Augustine, a woman rumoured to have rescued his grandfather from the Nazis. All Jonathan has to go on is a crumpled photograph and some fragmentary maps. Foer is helped in his search by his Ukrainian guide and translator, Alex Perchov, who accompanies Jonathan on his quest, but also brings with him his perpetually 'reposing' grandfather and a flatulent bitch by the outlandish name of Sammy Davies Junior Junior. Alex is obsessed by the English language, and an early present of a thesaurus plays havoc with his conversational skills. He not only mauls the language, he positively tortures it, with the enthusiasm of a modern-day Mrs Malaprop, giving rise to such expressions as 'between a rock and a rigid (hard) place' and 'it captured (took) five very long hours'. Jonathan is also in the process of writing the historical account of what happened to his ancestors in the little shtetl of Trachimbrod. His history begins with the bizarre circumstances of his great-great-great-great-great grandmother's birth; her parents were drowned in the river Brod at the very moment she was born. The historical sections have an air of stereotypical Jewish humour about them, and there is even an air of Swiftian influence with the two rival religious factions, the Slouchers and the Uprights, recalling the Big-Endian/Little-Endian dispute in Gulliver's Travels. The illumination of the title is horrifyingly and graphically revealed, as the historical search seems set on a collision course with the 20th century. The truth about the Nazi atrocities in Trachimbrod is shocking, and the images Foer conjures up will remain etched on every reader's subconscious. Foer sets himself the unenviable task of creating a work where the style is as important as the substance. It is an indication of his power that he only rarely becomes swamped by the language to the detriment of his plot. This is a stirring debut from an exciting new voice. (Kirkus UK)