Moon Palace

Moon Palace is an objectively phenomenal book.  If I’m quite frank, it wasn’t the most enjoyable of Paul Auster’s books to read.  I far preferred Mr Vertigo and The Book of Illusions but the more I think about it, and I can’t stop thinking about it, the more impressive it becomes.

The story is a deceptively simple one; directionless after graduating from college Marco Stanley Fogg falls into lethargy.  He quickly becomes homeless and spends a summer in New York’s Central Park scavenging through bins.  Following a dramatic rescue from himself he gains employment as a carer for one Thomas Effing, which leads in turn to a recounting of Effing’s own wandering in the (far more literal) wilderness and subsequent introduction of his equally lost son, Soloman Barber.  When I was reading it, as I said, I wasn’t too impressed.  The twist, I thought, was obvious.  But now I’m not so sure.  There’s so much foreshadowing that I don’t think it’s meant to be a twist at all.  Auster links the three stories in subtle yet persistent ways.  Themes and ideas repeat throughout the three tales so that it seems that the three men live slightly different permutations of the same larger story.  It’s an elegant thing.

Another reason that I enjoyed this book after the fact was that I’m starting to get a sense of Auster as an author.  This is the fourth book of his that I’ve read and I’m starting to notice reoccurring motifs.  The obvious triptych narrative structure and urban setting that link Moon Palace and The New York Triology aside, there are ties to Auster’s other works. Like Walt in Mr. Vertigo, Marco Stanley Fogg is alone in the world and ends up seeking out surrogate father figures- having never known his.  The narrative of Thomas Effing is also remarkably similar to Hector Mann's in The Book of Illusions.  Both men fake their deaths and abandon their fortunes to head out into the American wild and live a simpler life.  These two stories also show a fascination with American legends, although this time it’s not the movies but the Wild West that Auster focuses on.  Effing drifts through Utah, killing the notorious Gresham Brothers and riding off into the sunset with their stolen loot- it’s such a common narrative trope.

One of the other things that struck me about the book was a far more personal note.  I found it so easy to relate to Marco Stanley Fogg.  After I left university, I had no plan and everything went a bit wrong.  I couldn’t find a job for the longest time and fell into that slump where failure was a foregone conclusion and motivation near impossible.  Like Fogg, I didn’t know what to do and so did nothing until the situation reached crisis point.  Unlike Fogg, I dragged myself out of it before becoming homeless but that experience endeared Fogg to me.  While I think others may be frustrated by his inaction, I understand the fear of knowing how essential it is to do something and yet still being unable to move.

So, Moon Palace is a book that keeps on giving.  At first glance it is nothing special but it’s actually amazing.  Even now thinking about it I’m struck by more points still: the terrific sense of melancholy and missed opportunities that run throughout, for example.  The whole of the novel is filled with a wistful sense of “if only…”  Of course, the book wouldn’t be even half as good if just one of these missed connections had been realised any earlier.  For all the unfulfilled moments, everything in Moon Palace happens exactly when it needs to happen.

My next read is a return to the wonderful Margaret Atwood, this time with Surfacing.