Paul Auster Died!
RIP to Paul Auster! I thought I would compile a post with all of my reviews of his novels- I read all of them in the course of the 1,001 Books to Read Before You Die list, where he was (IMO) dramatically over-represented in the first edition. As anyone could gather from my reviews, I'm not a huge fan- I never have been, probably because I've never been one of those young, white, well-educated guys who thought he would move to NYC. I distinctly remember being in NYC on my own (well, with friends anyway) in college and saying things like, "People who move here are idiots, you should only move to NYC AFTER you have some money or if you ALREADY have money." Thirty years later I stand behind my college-age assessment, NYC is for suckers and it will eat you alive.
My sense is that his status as a canonical author will basically be reduced to the New York Trilogy. He began publishing at at time when the world wasn't particularly concerned with new or distinct voices and thus his relevance was never questioned while he was writing. There is, however, no denying his status as the first Apostle of Hipster Brooklyn- whether that is a good or bad thing is a question best left for others, but on a recent visit earlier this year- my first where I actually stayed in Brooklyn, I thought the Brooklyn that Auster and his ilk have wrought was a pretty fun place.
How many people were inspired by Auster to relocate to Brooklyn? I think that is his ultimate legacy- as a progenitor of hipster Brooklyn.
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| The New York Trilogy by Paul Auster remains relevant and in print- pictured above is an Art Speigelman drawn cover sequence for a recent re-print. |
Published 5/2/17
The New York Trilogy (1987)
by Paul Auster
The New York Trilogy is a collection of three "post-modern detective fiction" novellas, originally written and published separately in 1985 and 1986. There is a limited overlap of characters, but the three novellas are not three separate stories about the same detective, a la Sherlock Holmes. Rather they are three novellas that are thematically similar in that they blend elements of detective fiction with elements of the post-modern philosophical novel that is more often associated with French and German authors in this time period. In any time period, ha ha.
Although Auster was never part of my literary experience, I recognize that The New York Trilogy was and is popular, but I didn't find The New York Trilogy to be earth shattering work. It may not even be the best book about an existentialist influenced detective to be published in 1987, because that is the same year that Douglas Adams published Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency.
I'm sure these would have made a bigger impression if I'd read them closer to the original publication date, but 30 years later it just seems like one of any number of self consciously existentialist detective novels.
The New York Trilogy (1987)
by Paul Auster
The New York Trilogy is a collection of three "post-modern detective fiction" novellas, originally written and published separately in 1985 and 1986. There is a limited overlap of characters, but the three novellas are not three separate stories about the same detective, a la Sherlock Holmes. Rather they are three novellas that are thematically similar in that they blend elements of detective fiction with elements of the post-modern philosophical novel that is more often associated with French and German authors in this time period. In any time period, ha ha.
Although Auster was never part of my literary experience, I recognize that The New York Trilogy was and is popular, but I didn't find The New York Trilogy to be earth shattering work. It may not even be the best book about an existentialist influenced detective to be published in 1987, because that is the same year that Douglas Adams published Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency.
I'm sure these would have made a bigger impression if I'd read them closer to the original publication date, but 30 years later it just seems like one of any number of self consciously existentialist detective novels.
Published 7/10/17
The Music of Chance (1990)
by Paul Auster
Paul Auster is balls deep on the first edition of the 1001 Books list. I was thinking about Auster while recently reading a book about the formation and maintenance of canons (called Canons), published around the same time as this novel. The trend, in those days, was to oppose canons and critique the process of canon formation, often in the key of "dead, white men." Ultimately, this critique foundered on the realities of institutional pedagogy: One has to teach something in freshman English, but it is this time period which gives us the concepts and vocabulary to accurately describe the canon forming process in the same way that I am attempting to describe it via the 1001 Books project.
Most of the disparate essays in Canons deal with 19th century poetry, but one interesting essay on canon formation for American fiction between 1960 and 1975 makes some interesting empirical observations about what is essentially the current canon forming process. The author's hypothesis is that the best place to start is the best seller list, and that you then overlay the best seller list with critical response- he doesn't differentiate between critical response before best seller status.
If you want to apply this quick and dirty method to say, the current New York Times Hardcover Fiction Bestseller list, you see quick results. Of the 15 titles on this list, nearly half are automatically disqualified because the best-selling author has no critical audience. These are titles by: David Baldacci, Nora Roberts, Michael Crichton, Tom Clancy, Janet Evanovich, Dean Koontz and John Grisham. To the extent that any of these writers are likely to sneak onto any literary canon, it will be with a single, early novel. Almost every other author on the New York Times Hardcover Top 15 Bestseller list can be excluded with a single Google Search: Elin Hilderbrand (writer of summer beach read novels according to her wikipedia page), Paula Hawkins (thrillers), Adriana Trigiani (YA fiction), Don Winslow (Police procedurals), Lee Child (Jack Reacher books).
This leaves us with two possibilities:
1. The Ministry of Utmost Happiness by Arundhati Roy
2. Beach House for Rent by Mary Alice Monroe
Since the list is rolling, you have to imagine doing this maybe 30-40 times over the course of a year, and then toting up points at the end, that would give you your best canonical candidates for fiction. Looking at these two, Arundhati Roy, who ticks all the serious lit boxes AND doesn't write fiction very often, seems like the obvious choice. If you were looking for one book to maintain literary relevance over the summer, it would be the Roy novel, and if you were going to bet on one book from this time period, it would be that one.
Which all goes to say that the inclusion of so many Paul Auster titles on the first 1001 Books list represents another manifestation of this best seller/critical appeal overlay. Auster sells books and he appeals to critics, this makes each of his books, even the non best-selling titles, candidates for canonical inclusion. He, like other artists writing in the "present" benefit from the easy access to pre-canonical "best of" lists, typically organized by year.
The Music of Chance is an interesting novel, like other of his books it blends dark action and European style philosophical musings, with a firm understanding of the role of genre in serious fiction. His books are recognizable but slightly askew, they go down easy, but stay with you over time.
The Music of Chance (1990)
by Paul Auster
Paul Auster is balls deep on the first edition of the 1001 Books list. I was thinking about Auster while recently reading a book about the formation and maintenance of canons (called Canons), published around the same time as this novel. The trend, in those days, was to oppose canons and critique the process of canon formation, often in the key of "dead, white men." Ultimately, this critique foundered on the realities of institutional pedagogy: One has to teach something in freshman English, but it is this time period which gives us the concepts and vocabulary to accurately describe the canon forming process in the same way that I am attempting to describe it via the 1001 Books project.
Most of the disparate essays in Canons deal with 19th century poetry, but one interesting essay on canon formation for American fiction between 1960 and 1975 makes some interesting empirical observations about what is essentially the current canon forming process. The author's hypothesis is that the best place to start is the best seller list, and that you then overlay the best seller list with critical response- he doesn't differentiate between critical response before best seller status.
If you want to apply this quick and dirty method to say, the current New York Times Hardcover Fiction Bestseller list, you see quick results. Of the 15 titles on this list, nearly half are automatically disqualified because the best-selling author has no critical audience. These are titles by: David Baldacci, Nora Roberts, Michael Crichton, Tom Clancy, Janet Evanovich, Dean Koontz and John Grisham. To the extent that any of these writers are likely to sneak onto any literary canon, it will be with a single, early novel. Almost every other author on the New York Times Hardcover Top 15 Bestseller list can be excluded with a single Google Search: Elin Hilderbrand (writer of summer beach read novels according to her wikipedia page), Paula Hawkins (thrillers), Adriana Trigiani (YA fiction), Don Winslow (Police procedurals), Lee Child (Jack Reacher books).
This leaves us with two possibilities:
1. The Ministry of Utmost Happiness by Arundhati Roy
2. Beach House for Rent by Mary Alice Monroe
Since the list is rolling, you have to imagine doing this maybe 30-40 times over the course of a year, and then toting up points at the end, that would give you your best canonical candidates for fiction. Looking at these two, Arundhati Roy, who ticks all the serious lit boxes AND doesn't write fiction very often, seems like the obvious choice. If you were looking for one book to maintain literary relevance over the summer, it would be the Roy novel, and if you were going to bet on one book from this time period, it would be that one.
Which all goes to say that the inclusion of so many Paul Auster titles on the first 1001 Books list represents another manifestation of this best seller/critical appeal overlay. Auster sells books and he appeals to critics, this makes each of his books, even the non best-selling titles, candidates for canonical inclusion. He, like other artists writing in the "present" benefit from the easy access to pre-canonical "best of" lists, typically organized by year.
The Music of Chance is an interesting novel, like other of his books it blends dark action and European style philosophical musings, with a firm understanding of the role of genre in serious fiction. His books are recognizable but slightly askew, they go down easy, but stay with you over time.
Published 10/25/17
Mr. Vertigo (1994)
by Paul Auster
Man, Paul Auster just never stops churning out books combining existentialism, whimsy and memorable characters. Mr. Vertigo is the first Auster joint I've seen that is set in the past- his current book 4 3 2 1 has portions that are set in the past, and this book has a narrator "looking back" from the present, but most of it takes place in the late 20's and early 30's. Walter Rawley is a motherless street urchin living in St. Louis. He randomly meets Master Yehudi, the son of a Hungarian Rabbi, who promises Rawley that he can teach him to fly. Yehudi and Rawley decamp to an isolated farm in Kansas, and a coming of age story ensues.
Again, as you might expect from a Paul Auster novel, Mr. Vertigo is the least whimsical book to revolve around magic that one could possibly imagine. Like all of his books before 4 3 2 1, Mr. Vertigo is short- under 300 pages. It makes for a comically compressed third act, basically all of Rawley's life between the late 1930's and the present, covered in the course of 50 pages. It practically invites the reader to skim, knowing that not much can happen in what remains of the book.
Like other books from this portion of the 1001 Books list, Mr. Vertigo is, at best, a marginal selection. Sure, it's fun- a fun read for an afternoon sitting in an airport departure lobby, but the whole enterprise seems truncated. I think I've made this observation before, but it often feels like Auster isn't trying particularly hard. I don't have a problem with it, but it seems like a consideration that would impact his canonical status, and the extent to which is represented within said canon. I mean one Auster novel a decade, that makes sense to me.
Mr. Vertigo (1994)
by Paul Auster
Man, Paul Auster just never stops churning out books combining existentialism, whimsy and memorable characters. Mr. Vertigo is the first Auster joint I've seen that is set in the past- his current book 4 3 2 1 has portions that are set in the past, and this book has a narrator "looking back" from the present, but most of it takes place in the late 20's and early 30's. Walter Rawley is a motherless street urchin living in St. Louis. He randomly meets Master Yehudi, the son of a Hungarian Rabbi, who promises Rawley that he can teach him to fly. Yehudi and Rawley decamp to an isolated farm in Kansas, and a coming of age story ensues.
Again, as you might expect from a Paul Auster novel, Mr. Vertigo is the least whimsical book to revolve around magic that one could possibly imagine. Like all of his books before 4 3 2 1, Mr. Vertigo is short- under 300 pages. It makes for a comically compressed third act, basically all of Rawley's life between the late 1930's and the present, covered in the course of 50 pages. It practically invites the reader to skim, knowing that not much can happen in what remains of the book.
Like other books from this portion of the 1001 Books list, Mr. Vertigo is, at best, a marginal selection. Sure, it's fun- a fun read for an afternoon sitting in an airport departure lobby, but the whole enterprise seems truncated. I think I've made this observation before, but it often feels like Auster isn't trying particularly hard. I don't have a problem with it, but it seems like a consideration that would impact his canonical status, and the extent to which is represented within said canon. I mean one Auster novel a decade, that makes sense to me.
Published 1/19/18
Timbuktu (1999)by Paul Auster
Timbuktu is the book Paul Auster wrote from the POV of a dog, Mr. Bones, the faithful companion of a colorful hobo who calls himself Willy G. Christmas, despite being the child of Jewish holocaust survivors. Like every Auster novel except 4 3 2 1, Timbuktu is read and done in a blink- under 150 pages, I believe. Timbuktu is one of the first books I've read with a major homeless character portrayed in a complex and sympathetic way. Christmas is no stereotypical hobo. During the course of Timbuktu it is revealed that he was once a promising Columbia University undergraduate, a roommate, in fact, of a writer named Paul Auster. Experimentation with drugs leads to a psychotic break and a life time of wandering, interspersed with winters spent at the home of his long-suffering mother.
It is hard to imagine this as a canonical title- any canon- since Auster is so prolific and already well represented due to his combination of Americanness, commercial viability and critical success. No surprise that Timbuktu was dropped from the 2008 revision of 1001 Books.
Published 4/5/18
The Book of Illusions (2002)
by Paul Auster
This was an audiobook narrated by the author himself. I'm surprised that doesn't happen more often. I wanted to quote this from the Wikipedia page about the book:
The Book of Illusions (2002)
by Paul Auster
This was an audiobook narrated by the author himself. I'm surprised that doesn't happen more often. I wanted to quote this from the Wikipedia page about the book:
The Book of Illusions revisits a number of plot elements seen in Auster's first major work, The New York Trilogy.I'm sure I'd recommend this audiobook edition, read by the author himself, over the print copy. Auster is one of the most over-represented authors in the original 1001 Books list- up there with Coetzee, like they just didn't have enough non-white men to fill up the end of the book, or they got lazy towards the end.
These include:
The protagonist driving himself into isolation
Extended focus on a character's (fictional) body of work
Writers as characters
A character disappearing, only to resurface years later, having spent some of the intervening years wandering and doing odd jobs
Parallels drawn between a work of Nathaniel Hawthorne and the plot itself
Notebooks (also in Oracle Night)
A meta-referential ending that places the protagonist as the author of the book itself
Published 9/30/17
4 3 2 1 (2017)
by Paul Auster
Is Paul Auster a great American novelist? Sure, that is a loaded question in 2017, does such a thing even exist in 2017? Isn't the whole idea of the great American novelist and the great American novel itself problematic in so much as it invokes the specter of white male class and privilege? Up until the publication of 4 3 2 1 in January of this year, you could argue that Auster himself agreed that there was no point in writing the great American novel- simply judging by his books, which are typically short and elliptical, consciously eschewing the kind of length and solidity that typically coincide with books judged to have a shot at fulfilling the manifest destiny of the great American novel.
If you look at Auster's career up to this point- what have you got? Does he have an Audience- certainly, popular and critical. He's had best sellers, all his books get the full review treatment and he's dabbled in successful films. On the other hand, he's near 30 years into his career as a well regarded novelist and he has yet to back a first level literary prize- No Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, no National Book Award (that seems pretty amazing considering some of the books which have won in the past 30 years). He doesn't even appear in the long odds section of the Ladbrook's 2017 Nobel Prize for Literature betting table.
He's also got a reputation for writing literary genre fiction and a thematic obsession with the vagaries of fate and existentialism- all traits that have helped secure book sales in the English speaking world, but neither of those characteristics have endeared him to the people who hand out major literary prizes.
And as I was saying earlier, before the publication of 4 3 2 1 you could say that Paul Auster hasn't won a major literary award because he isn't trying to win a major award. He just didn't give a fuck, wasn't trying, and was content with his lot as a top selling "serious" author in late 20th and early 21st century America. After all, that's not a bad place to be for a writer of serious fiction.
But 4 3 2 1 changes that analysis, because here he has a written a book that begs to be considered for major literary prizes, and in fact, it has made the 2017 Booker Prize short-list. The current Ladbrook's betting chart has him second to last place at 5/1. The inclusion of 4 3 2 1 on the shortlist was itself the biggest surprise of the 2017 shortlist announcement. It was a surprise because 4 3 2 1 hasn't been particularly well received by critics, and at a very solid 850 pages it is not a light read. It's hard to imagine any casual readers dipping into 4 3 2 1 unless they are die hard Auster fans or they've been told that this is "the" book of the season/year, or a contender for that status. Before the Booker Shortlist announcement, I was of the opinion that 4 3 2 1 was a ridiculously self-indulgent flop by an author who has blown his chance at long-term canonical status.
After reading 4 3 2 1, I want to hail it as a major work- partially because I read the damn 850 pages and saying it is a great book justifies the investment of time. I think an aspect of this book which makes it difficult to judge is the unabashedly retro bildungsroman story of a non-religious male Jew growing up in the New York City in the mid to late 20th century. The meta fictional device that somewhat obscures the retro feel is that Auster tells four different versions of the same life, from birth through young adulthood. Each version is different as it relates the narrator and his personal life, but the "outside world" remains the same in each version. For example, the student unrest at Columbia around the time of the Vietnam War, and the Vietnam War itself, and all major historical events from the time period depicted remain true to "life."
Any cursory survey of the reviews of 4 3 2 1 make it clear that the narrator is a stand in for Auster himself. One important plot point, the sudden death of a friend at summer camp when he was a young adolescent- occurs both in the real life of Paul Auster and in 4 3 2 1. Auster manages to spell the overwhelming white/maleness by making his narrator gay/bisexual in some of his timelines. But still- 4 3 2 1 bears a strong resemblance to the work of Phillip Roth and Saul Bellow. He's moved forward a few decades in time (from Saul Bellow, at least), but the story of a hyper-literate Jewish American growing up in the New York area in the mid to late 20th century is one of the most traversed literary pathways of 20th century literature.
4 3 2 1 is a book written to win literary prizes, so it's ultimate value is likely to be judged by it's ability to bring home said prizes. At least a National Book Award.
4 3 2 1 (2017)
by Paul Auster
Is Paul Auster a great American novelist? Sure, that is a loaded question in 2017, does such a thing even exist in 2017? Isn't the whole idea of the great American novelist and the great American novel itself problematic in so much as it invokes the specter of white male class and privilege? Up until the publication of 4 3 2 1 in January of this year, you could argue that Auster himself agreed that there was no point in writing the great American novel- simply judging by his books, which are typically short and elliptical, consciously eschewing the kind of length and solidity that typically coincide with books judged to have a shot at fulfilling the manifest destiny of the great American novel.
If you look at Auster's career up to this point- what have you got? Does he have an Audience- certainly, popular and critical. He's had best sellers, all his books get the full review treatment and he's dabbled in successful films. On the other hand, he's near 30 years into his career as a well regarded novelist and he has yet to back a first level literary prize- No Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, no National Book Award (that seems pretty amazing considering some of the books which have won in the past 30 years). He doesn't even appear in the long odds section of the Ladbrook's 2017 Nobel Prize for Literature betting table.
He's also got a reputation for writing literary genre fiction and a thematic obsession with the vagaries of fate and existentialism- all traits that have helped secure book sales in the English speaking world, but neither of those characteristics have endeared him to the people who hand out major literary prizes.
And as I was saying earlier, before the publication of 4 3 2 1 you could say that Paul Auster hasn't won a major literary award because he isn't trying to win a major award. He just didn't give a fuck, wasn't trying, and was content with his lot as a top selling "serious" author in late 20th and early 21st century America. After all, that's not a bad place to be for a writer of serious fiction.
But 4 3 2 1 changes that analysis, because here he has a written a book that begs to be considered for major literary prizes, and in fact, it has made the 2017 Booker Prize short-list. The current Ladbrook's betting chart has him second to last place at 5/1. The inclusion of 4 3 2 1 on the shortlist was itself the biggest surprise of the 2017 shortlist announcement. It was a surprise because 4 3 2 1 hasn't been particularly well received by critics, and at a very solid 850 pages it is not a light read. It's hard to imagine any casual readers dipping into 4 3 2 1 unless they are die hard Auster fans or they've been told that this is "the" book of the season/year, or a contender for that status. Before the Booker Shortlist announcement, I was of the opinion that 4 3 2 1 was a ridiculously self-indulgent flop by an author who has blown his chance at long-term canonical status.
After reading 4 3 2 1, I want to hail it as a major work- partially because I read the damn 850 pages and saying it is a great book justifies the investment of time. I think an aspect of this book which makes it difficult to judge is the unabashedly retro bildungsroman story of a non-religious male Jew growing up in the New York City in the mid to late 20th century. The meta fictional device that somewhat obscures the retro feel is that Auster tells four different versions of the same life, from birth through young adulthood. Each version is different as it relates the narrator and his personal life, but the "outside world" remains the same in each version. For example, the student unrest at Columbia around the time of the Vietnam War, and the Vietnam War itself, and all major historical events from the time period depicted remain true to "life."
Any cursory survey of the reviews of 4 3 2 1 make it clear that the narrator is a stand in for Auster himself. One important plot point, the sudden death of a friend at summer camp when he was a young adolescent- occurs both in the real life of Paul Auster and in 4 3 2 1. Auster manages to spell the overwhelming white/maleness by making his narrator gay/bisexual in some of his timelines. But still- 4 3 2 1 bears a strong resemblance to the work of Phillip Roth and Saul Bellow. He's moved forward a few decades in time (from Saul Bellow, at least), but the story of a hyper-literate Jewish American growing up in the New York area in the mid to late 20th century is one of the most traversed literary pathways of 20th century literature.
4 3 2 1 is a book written to win literary prizes, so it's ultimate value is likely to be judged by it's ability to bring home said prizes. At least a National Book Award.
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