Perhaps the title "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" sounds unnecessarily wordy and clumsy. You might recall an implicit rule that a book title, if it's a good one, should be no longer than three words. But aren't there always exceptions? Of course, this happens to be one. As we journey through this novel, we find that the title in fact perfectly captures the kind of emotional state in which we constantly find ourselves. "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close," Jonathan Safran Foer's follow-up to his award-winning debut "Everything Is Illuminated," is an extremely resounding tale of post-9/11 loss as well as a search for, and the discovery of, something incredibly close to us yet so often missed.

Allow me to make another generalization about books. I believe we choose to read a book as a result of one of three processes. The first scenario: You loved other works by the same author, so whether to read this particular book is a no-brainer. The second scenario: You flip through the book to decide whether this is your type of book. The last scenario: The book has been recommended to you by friends, institutions or the media.

My case falls into the first category. Anyone who liked "Everything Is Illuminated" will also enjoy this book. Foer writes as creatively and funnily in his second work as in his debut, in which the inappropriately big-worded and awkwardly posturing English of Alex, a young Ukrainian translator, served as excellent comic relief. The much-cherished funny letters of Alex reincarnate themselves in this newer book in the language of the hero, Oskar Schell, a nine-year-old inventor, Francophile and amateur entomologist, and also in the letters written by his grandparents with their own unique ways of botching up the proper usage of English.

But of course this playfulness with grammar isn't the only thing that makes Foer's writing so amazing. It's his ability to narrate a heart-rending tale of individuals who suffer loss and trauma through the language of humorous imagination. Oskar, surviving the loss of his father as a result of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, sets out on a journey to solve the mystery of a key with the name "Black" on it, which he has found inside a vase from Dad's bedroom. As Oskar goes on his way to visit every single person with the last name "Black" in New York City in alphabetical order, he meets and discovers other lives also surviving loss, despair and, most tragically, love. Along the way, as an inventor with dreams of becoming Stephen Hawking's protégé, Oskar keeps inventing-in his mind-things that could save this world from being so deep in the "heavy boots": a bird-seed shirt that can make you fly away from an accident, a special drain underneath everyone's pillow that collects tears into a reservoir to measure how sad New York is, an ambulance that flashes "Don't Worry," "It's Nothing Major" or "Good Bye, I love you!" depending on the circumstance.

These ideas, bright in a nine-year-old way, show how in Foer's writings we find memories of incurable trauma and pathos behind the humor. In "Everything Is Illuminated" the source of tragedy was Nazi violence; in "Extremely Loud" it is 9/11 and the Dresden firebombing of 60 years ago. While this novel perhaps risks going overboard with emotionality on the part of Oskar's grandparents and almost all of the Blacks whom Oskar meets, you will find the characters and the book so full of life, so heart-warming, so human. That is, of course, unless you ruin it by being cynical about the realistic probability of everyone being so eccentric. Foer's ability to beautifully interweave several narratives from different perspectives stands out in this book, especially in the grandparents' lifelong healing processes at their last stages. Then, the contention that any lover of "Everything Is Illuminated" will find this book as extraordinary seems plausible.

But what about the second scenario? That is, should you flip through this book casually at Amherst Books, would you find it interesting? Sure-if you like the adventurous and unusual. This is assuredly not a book for the traditionalist. The "special effects" consist of constant play with the spacing, pages of pictures of keys, doorknobs and the World Trade Center, or only one sentence or no sentence at all on the page. The book is also full-color in a few places. Overall, the book brims with imaginative adventures, able to provide an excellent break from readings for class like, say, "Civilization and Its Discontents" or "War and Peace."

However, these special effects serve more than mere entertainment. The letters, voice mails, pictures and memories piece together to form an extraordinary collage of "things that life depends on," something always necessary, a simple insight to impossible problems. In this book New York's purportedly lost humanity is rediscovered-strangers cry together and heal one another. The ending of the book is especially wonderful; the truth about Message Five, the mystery of the key and Stephen Hawking's letter are all unrelated, yet they converge to a beautifully poignant ending. The few pages containing the final special effects are pure genius and incredibly stirring, leaving the reader sorry to have finished the book already.

Thus I argue that "Extremely Loud" is a fantastic work of brilliance and humanity, excellent for both people of the first and second scenarios. The book is a charming work of originality. So what about the last scenario? Well, the answer is obvious-this review does it for you. I recommend that anyone who wants to read something hilarious and heartbreaking, human and imaginative all at once try "Extremely Loud." It will be a wonderful adventure.