Rating: 
Summary: heartbreaking genius
Review: I just finished reading this - at first a few pages at a time to make it last, then one long gulp pausing only for Kleenex and loud barks of laughter. Several people have commented that it's premature or immature or too quick to the press, but while I agree that this work might have been more profound with time, we would have missed the novel this one is. It is maddeningly brilliant - funny, raw, beautiful, and honest in its blatant inhonesty.JSF escapes most of the pitfalls unreliable autobiography can fall into, including the self-aware arrogance that Dave Eggers made so well known. Young novelists frequently get to a point where the plot runs away from them (White Teeth, for example), requiring more and more effort to follow or enjoy. I found this one snowballed in the opposite direction, with the plot pulling me effortlessly along. The shifts in narrative voice were occasionally disorienting, but rarely confusing. As someone who has dealt at painful length with Ukrainian border guards, I thought Foer conveyed the culture shock, poverty, pride, difficult history, and potatoes quite well. This book reminded me of the controversy underway at the Jewish Museum in New York, where a new exhibit is infuriating survivors. Foer is clearly yet another generation beyond the Holocaust and, as for the artists creating self portraits with Diet Coke and camp prisoners or Lego sets of crematoria, some of the sanctity and tact has eroded away. The humor does not, however, obscure or diminish the horror. Instead, it reclaims it as part of our experience, as a page in the book of the dead, a pin-prick to the living. Older readers may be offended by his irreverence, but to my generation, it looks like honesty and even reverence for a Jewish experience that includes both terror and terrible jokes. (One of my favorites was the man who "reclined on Passover not because it was religious custom but because why should that night be different from all others?" I laughed so loud, I tried explaining it to the person next to me. Some jokes don't translate well.) Flipping through this book, I raised my eyebrows wryly at obvious gimmicks. By the time I reached them, though, the plot had wrapped meaning around them and I enjoyed his artistic experimentations immensely. The abstract book entries were heartrending and funny by the time they came around, the malapropisms made painful moments readable, and even the wavy chapter titles stopped irritating. I am, however, relieved he only had one word crossed out, as I have limited patience for the illusion of a manuscript in progress. I look forward to seeing Foer's hand become more sure as he uses these and other techniques, but this book certainly surpassed my expectations and I don't begrudge him the glamour or the money.
Rating: 
Summary: Cut the kid some slack!
Review: ...Foer is clearly a bit too in love with his own playful prose style. But there is something charming about the novel's youthful exuberance. Foer's wordplay is dazzling and inventive-- a sort of linguistic gymnastics. I really do think this novel is an exceptional achievement for someone so young.
Rating:
Summary: laughter and tears
Review: I didn't know what to expect with this book. (It was recommended by a very trusted friend.) So I read it without any notions of what it might be, or who the author is, or anything. It wasn't until I was finished, and did a little research, that I learned this is a "big, important book" and that the author is, to my disbelief, 24!!!! I have since called to thank my friend about a dozen times. All I can say is that I kept reading parts out loud to my wife---laugh out loud funny parts, and parts that made me choke up with tears. I read it to her in bed in the morning, and in the kitchen before we went to work, and at the dinner table, and before going to sleep. And honestly, I'd rather just quote long parts of the book than write this review of it, so you could see for yourself. That's the kind of book it is. Read it.
Rating: 
Summary: Too Soon
Review: A meandering, melodramatic self-concious novel that attempts (far too hard) to assert its seriousness. There is talent here, uncooked, in need of seasoning and thrown onto the table far too early. The publishing machinery kicked into gear too quickly and greedily attempted to exploit the extreme youth of this writer. A shame, in another time, perhaps Mr. Foer would have waited, worked harder, and allowed his wisdom to prevail over his ambition. We all might have been given something closer to literature than this display of editorial absence and cynical business maneuvering.
Rating:
Summary: Lives up to the Hype
Review: There's been a lot of buzz about this book, which, I have to confess, usually turms me off immediately. I'm generally suspicious if there's a lot of hype about a new novel, especially if the writer is so young, as Jonathan Safran Foer is (I think he's 24). But a friend was reading the book, and was totally blown away by it. So much so that she was contantly reading passages to me--hilarious, crazy stuff--that I just couldn't resist giving the book a go.
I'm so glad I did. The writer is very young. But Foer writes like a wizard, is wise beyond his years, and is clearly bursting with scary talent. He has an imagination that is almost frightening to contemplate. There are times, I have to say, when his youth is apparent. There's extraordinary energy to the writing, which I'm afraid sometimes goes over the top, and betrays the author's age. But in all this first novel works in a big way. I can't think of the last time I laughed so hard reading a book. But, more importantly, Foer tackles profound and heart-wrenching themes--the madcap imagination and wild humor flow into a deep and powerful reflection on the nature of memory, and how we go on with life in the face of horror. Obviously relevant to the times. What really stands out, amidst the jokes and beautiful writing, is a deep and uncompromising humanity. This is the novel's true achievement. It's easy to marvel at Foer's writing, but I was most impressed by the depths of his thinking. This is rare to find in a seasoned writer, and nearly impossible to find in first novel, especially by a writer so young.
It's unfortunate that the hype over this novel and author will inevitably turn off some readers, provoking a knee-jerk resentment and criticism. I know it, since I've done it. But you should give this book a chance. It will reward you in surprising ways. Foer is much more than a media phenomenon from NYC. He is, dare I say it, the real thing,both incredibly entertaining and profoundly thought-provoking . I'm eagerly awaiting his next book.
Rating:
Summary: Everything really is illuminated
Review: listen, this guy came to my school and read and spoke. he is so brilliant. if you did not like this book it is because you over-read some genius things. This book will change your life if you read close enough.
Rating:
Summary: A fraud on the Public.
Review: One of those horrifying examples of how money breeds manipulation. This novel received an extraordinary advance for a first novel, by such a young person, and now we're all supposed to fall in line to help the publisher recoup this mistake in judgment and aesthetics. How many careers of other writers did not get started because this publisher chose to annoint this one with such lavish, underserved largesse. And now, wait and see, the New York Times Book Review and others will march in lockstep, as well. Just a prediction, but it only proves the point that publishing, like all industries, is without integrity, and there is surely no level playing field among authors. The marketing of this book is so cynical, and such a fraud on the public, and as readers and consumers we should all protest by rejecting this book and others like it, where we are being told what is great simply because the publisher grossly overpaid for it. Let's get out of the way of this juggernaut, and insist that they market and promote the works of far more talented and deserving writers who only received a $10,000 advance from a smaller publisher. Perhaps that's where the true art is in literature today.
Rating:
Summary: A Luminous Debut
Review: As a young struggling writer, I must admit I was a little biased before I read Mr. Foer's short story in last summer's New Yorker Debut Fiction Issue. Of course I wanted to hate it! Yet, after a few pages, I had to admit he is deserving of recognition: his story was original, mature, heartfelt and laugh-out loud funny. This applies to his wonderful first novel as well, which I rushed out to buy last week. I was so impressed by certain passages, jokes, characters, I found myself reading aloud to friends, coworkers, even my mum. Bravo!
I feel that the "disappointment" other readers expressed on this site has the strong scent of sour grapes. Mr. Foer has been lucky to get recognized at such a young age, by such influential writers. And who wouldn't want a blurb from Joyce Carol Oates? Yet I feel quite strongly that she gave her recommendation for good reason: Mr. Foer's impressive debut deserves her enthusiasm and ours.
Rating: 
Summary: A "Warm-Up" Disguised
Review: I sincerely believe that without the JC Oates backing to start off the media frenzy, no one would care about this book. JSF was in the right place at the right time, and while this may be good for him, this is bad for the literate populace who deserve quality, regardless of 'hype.' Had he spent more time editing and less time rushing to be published at such a young age, we may have had a solid book on our hands. The novel is formulaic, very uneven, very immature. JSF is a writer whose progress will be very visible: will he learn how to write for the second novel? Hopefully, for there is promise beneath the cliches and trite narrative techniques: promises, but none fulfilled quite yet.
Rating:
Summary: Maybe the next one ...
Review: I don't know. I keep hearing how much everyone loves this book, but for me, it was too obviously "engineered." The portrayal of the Russian narrator was a cheap device that wearied me. Being of some Russian blood and having my own experiences trying to communicate outside my mother tongue of English (and likely making a [fool] of myself) left me thinking that Foer's main line of entertainment in the piece was the literary equivalent of playground teasing. Calling the book a novel but clearly and unabashedly peddling 20-something memoir (hero's name is same as author's) left me with the same low-level disgust. This guy can write pretty well, but in the end, the book strikes me as a juvenile and manufactured effort. Maybe the next one, "set in a museum," will prove more mature. I sure hope so.
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