Or how he was once found on the well regarded Rabbi's front lawn, bound in white string, and said he tied one around his finger to remember something terribly important, and fearing he would forget the index finger, he tied a string around his pinky, and then one from waist to neck, and fearing he would forget this one, he tied a string from ear to tooth to scrotum heel, and used his body to remember his body, but in the end could only remember the string. Is this someone to trust for a story?
by Jonathan Safran Foer
(0 Reviews)

The character in Jonathan Safran Foer's "Everything Is Illuminated" humorously illustrates the struggle of memory through a bizarre scene where he becomes overly entangled in string to remember important things. This leads to a comical situation where, despite his efforts to keep memories alive, all he achieves is being tied up in strings, symbolizing the irony of failing to remember the very essence of what was important. His extreme method questions the reliability of his recollections.

This approach raises doubt about his credibility as a storyteller. If he cannot even manage to retain his memories without resorting to absurd methods, how can we trust the narratives he shares? His chaotic relationship with memory and reliance on physical reminders show a deeper commentary on the fragility of human understanding and storytelling, fostering skepticism about the truths behind his experiences.

Stats

Categories
Votes
0
Page views
17
Update
February 21, 2025

Rate the Quote

Add Comment & Review

User Reviews

Based on 0 reviews
5 Star
0
4 Star
0
3 Star
0
2 Star
0
1 Star
0
Add Comment & Review
We'll never share your email with anyone else.
More »

Popular quotes

Taffy. He thinks about taffy. He thinks it would take his teeth out now, but he would eat it anyhow, if it meant eating it with her.
by Mitch Albom
All our human endeavours are like that, she reflected, and it is only because we are too ignorant to realize it, or are too forgetful to remember it, that we have the confidence to build something that is meant to last.
by Alexander McCall Smith
The value of money is subjective, depending on age. At the age of one, one multiplies the actual sum by 145,000, making one pound seem like 145,000 pounds to a one-year-old. At seven – Bertie's age – the multiplier is 24, so that five pounds seems like 120 pounds. At the age of twenty four, five pounds is five pounds; at forty five it is divided by 5, so that it seems like one pound and one pound seems like twenty pence. {All figures courtesy of Scottish Government Advice Leaflet: Handling your Money.}
by Alexander McCall Smith
In fact, none of us knows how he ever managed to get his LLB in the first place. Maybe they're putting law degrees in cornflakes boxes these days.
by Alexander McCall Smith
Look, if you say that science will eventually prove there is no God, on that I must differ. No matter how small they take it back, to a tadpole, to an atom, there is always something they can't explain, something that created it all at the end of the search. And no matter how far they try to go the other way – to extend life, play around with the genes, clone this, clone that, live to one hundred and fifty – at some point, life is over. And then what happens? When the life comes to an end? I shrugged. You see? He leaned back. He smiled. When you come to the end, that's where God begins.
by Mitch Albom
Small towns are like metronomes; with the slightest flick, the beat changes.
by Mitch Albom
You say you should have died instead of me. But during my time on earth, people died instead of me, too. It happens every day. When lightning strikes a minute after you are gone, or an airplane crashes that you might have been on. When your colleague falls ill and you do not. We think such things are random. But there is a balance to it all. One withers, another grows. Birth and death are part of a whole.
by Mitch Albom
we get so many lives between birth and death. A life to be a child. A life to come of age. A life to wander, to settle, to fall in love, to parent, to test our promise, to realize our mortality-and, in some lucky cases, to do something after that realization.
by Mitch Albom
But an ink brush, she thinks, is a skeleton key for a prisoner's mind.
by David Mitchell
Where there's bluster, thinks Luisa, there's duplicity
by David Mitchell