The New York Trilogy

As I mentioned last time, I am ever so slightly enamoured with Paul Auster.  He is one of the best discoveries I’ve made doing the list thing.  Reading The Book of Illusions made me feel like I was at university again, it reminded me so much of some of the first year film criticism.  It’s the story of a lonely man writing the biography of a fictional silent comic, Hector Mann.  It may as well have been a true history of Fatty Arbuckle or Buster Keaton, Auster nails the tone so completely.  I love the book because I read it at exactly the right time; it reminded me of everything I loved about my degree just as I was beginning to really miss being at university.

Another of my loves is the detective novel.  I have a real thing for noir.  I’m sort of devastated about Lauren Bacall’s death.  A lot of the books I’ve already crossed off the list are of a hardboiled variety.  In short, Auster plus detectives is just what I want. 

The New York Trilogy doesn’t disappoint.  Or at least two thirds of it doesn’t.  The book’s split into three short stories all about obsession: City of Glass, Ghosts and The Locked Room.  The first two of these are so obviously linked by theme.  They’re practically the same story- man watches another man and becomes obsessed.  But I’m not mad for Ghosts.  Every character in the story is name after a colour in a way that ends up being reminiscent of Reservoir Dogs.  Yes, I know this book pre-dates the film and so it wasn’t intentional, but calling characters Mr White, Mr Brown, Mr Black makes it inevitable.  More than this, the main character is simply known as Blue.  He’s the only one whose name isn’t a common surname and it seems like Auster’s doing it on purpose to make him impossible to connect with.  And then, there’s this moment; a phrase Auster uses which is just wonderful, “Something happens, Blue thinks, and then it goes on happening forever.  It can never be changed, never be otherwise.”  As a result, I’m just utterly confused about the whole matter.

The other two stories I love.  My only criticism of City of Glass is the introduction of a character called Paul Auster.  It’s a pet peeve of mine, but it drives me mad when authors give characters their own name, as if anyone reading will really question whether it’s actually a true story or not (spoiler: it’s not.  It never is).  City of Glass and The Locked Room contain obvious links to one another: overlapping character names, stories about writers, but that’s not it entirely.  The stories seem in some way to be two sides of the same story, one focussing on an obsessed watcher and the other on an obsessed man being watched.  And despite all City of Glass has going for it, The Locked Room is by far my favourite.  It all comes back to The Book of Illusions.  The Locked Room tells the story of a writer obsessed by writing the biography of a fictional author who, much like Hector Mann, disappears before the story begins.  It’s not a detective story about a detective; rather it’s about an author researching his subject and the story of an extraordinary life.  Naturally, the books written are the least important part of the author’s life.  What remains in both is something else Auster mentions.  The idea that one life is many things, people change their jobs, their locations, their friends and as a result lives have many stages.  It's this that's captured so well in The Locked Room and, if I'm honest, so much better in The Book of Illusions.

I’m currently reading Beloved by Toni Morrison.  It may take some time as I’ve gone about it by way of a cheeky re-read of Stephen King’s Carrie, that’s a story for another place, though.