This was interesting, to say the least, I did like all the literature references though
3 out of 5

شاید اگه مترجم دیگه ای ترجمه کتاب رو به عهده داشت بهتر میبود
البته ترجمه خوب و روانی داره اما یه جاهایی آدم اذیت میشه

این دومین کتاب از پل استر بود که میخوندم بعد از دست به دهان
حس میکنم قراره جزو نویسنده های محبوبم باشه
نوشته‌ی پشت جلد کتاب هم خیلی خوبه حتا:))
اما کتاب رو برای سرگرمی و یا به عنوان کتابی عادی که ممکنه بخرید و بخونید و به پایانی برسید توصیه نمیکنم
فکر میکنم ازون کتابایی هست که نیاز به وقت گذاشتن داره و حتما بعد از خوندنش ذهن درگیر میشه.

Bu kitabın en etkileyici yanı; suç, felsefe ve teolojik sorgulamaları bir araya getirip garip bir dedektiflik hikayesi üzerinden bir insanın düşüşüne bağlaması ve buna rağmen çok rahat okunan bir metin olması. Teslis metaforu, Don Kişot çıkmazı ve “yumurtalar” alegorisi eşliğinde bir polisiye . Çok acayip ve çok iyi.

چه داستان خوشمزه ای! چه کتاب سرگرم کننده ای...

An interesting PoMo novella. Auster's first novel/second book/first of his 'New York Trilogy', 'City of Glass' is simultaneously a detective novel, an exploration of the author/narrative dynamic, and a treatise on language. I liked parts, loved parts, and finished the book thinking the author had written something perhaps more interesting than important.

My favorite parts were the chapters where Auster (actual author Auster) through the narrator Quinn acting as the detective Auster explored Stillman's book: 'The Garden and the Tower: Early Visions of the New World'. I also enjoyed the chapter where Auster (character Auster) and Quinn (acting as detective Auster) explored Auster's (character Auster) Don Quixote ideas. Those chapters reminded me obliquely (everything in City of Glass is oblique) of Gaddis.

In the end, however, it all seemed like Auster had read Gaddis wanted to write a PoMo novel to reflect the confusing nature of the author/narrator/translator/editor role(s) of 'Don Quixote', set it all in Manhatten, and wanted to make the prose and story fit within the general framework of a detective novel. He pulled it off and it all kinda worked. I'll say more once I finish the next two of the 'New York Trilogy'.

"What better portrait of a writer than to show a man who has been bewitched by books?"

That was fun! Auster's 'mystery' novel is not so much as a mystery as a sort of ode to Don Quixote in so much as imitation is flattery. Cervantes' work is directly mentioned and a character named Paul Auster (yeah you heard it) even gives a sort of theory about doubts concerning the book within the book in Don Quixote. The novel itself does something similar. In fact, the doubts concerning the identity of the author and identity, in general, are the main theme here.

The novel starts, for example, when the protagonist, a writer who writes detective novels under an assumed name - all about a detective named Max Work, mistakenly gets a call for Paul Auster, a detective. He ends up assuming the identity of this Paul Auster. Later he ends up trying to find this Paul Auster, the detective only to find a Paul Auster, the author - who btw is not the writer of this novel but a friend of his. Moreover, the protagonist's son shares the name with the man who called him.

There are other themes thrown in but Don Quixote's connection was quite impressive. The sentence I quoted at beginning of this review was said by Paul Auster, the writer about Don Quixote but this book itself could be said to be about a man driven to madness by books.

Πρώτη επαφή με τον Οστερ και σίγουρα όχι η τελευταία! Εξαιρετικό βιβλιο, πολυ ενδιαφέρουσα η πλοκή και σίγουρα πρωτότυπη!

What a disaster. This is like a vastly inferior The Crying of Lot 49. People who like it presumably call it a brilliant subversion of traditional mystery-genre expectations. I call it bullshit.

Basically there's this writer, Quinn, who gets a mysterious call looking for a detective called Paul Auster (Auster, the author, is apparently the sort of author who includes himself as a character in his books...sigh). Quinn of course takes on both the case and Auster's identity. The only good parts of the book, I think, are when Quinn tries to act hard-boiled with the stereotypical femme, which works because he's read so many hard-boiled mystery novels. Haha.

This quickly gets old as he follows a senile old man aimlessly around New York. But is this old man's wandering aimless? No! It turns out if you plot his movements on a map, they spell letters, which in turn spell words! But then those words turn out to have no bearing on the plot of this shitshow of a book. Auster abandons the heretofore somewhat interesting case, getting rid of all its characters in singularly unspectacular fashion, in favor of an identity crisis for the narrator. Quinn/Auster is so confused about his identities that he is driven insane. I've seen this before, this idea that a man with two identities or secret lives will inevitably go crazy. Whence this ridiculous notion? Actors do it with no problem, for the most part. Writers can do it, too. Clearly Auster does it himself, to no detrimental psychic effect. The whole conceit seems not only flawed but pointless, especially since the execution of the identity crisis itself is so lackluster. It's less like watching someone lose their mind and more like watching someone's grocery bag slowly rip.

I briefly had hopes that some of the threads Auster so unceremoniously dropped would be picked up in the rest of the New York Trilogy, but it looks like the novels are only linked thematically, which means I certainly will not be reading them. Seriously, fuck Paul Auster.

“Her şeyi başlatan,yanlış bir numaraydı,telefon gecenin ilerlemiş bir saatinde üç kez çalmış,karşı taraftaki ses birini istemişti, ama o biri kendisi değildi.”
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Bir kitabın giriş cümlesi bu denli sarıyorsa sizi, devamı da -büyük bir aksilik çıkmadıkça- sizi hayal kırıklığına uğratmaz.Cam Kent’in beni hayal kırıklığına uğratmadığı gibi.
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Daniel Quinn’in bir gece vakti aldığı telefon sonrası değişen hayatına götürüyor bizi yazar. Merak ile başlayan arayış sonrası, bulmaya çalıştığı sır oluyor Quinn. Ve biz bu sırrın önünü-arkasını göremiyoruz.
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Paul Auster, karmaşık bir dil kullanmıyor ancak dil ile bir karmaşa yaratıyor. Yazarın zeka oyunlarının parçalarını birleştirmek ise ayrı bir keyife dönüşüyor~
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İlknur Özdemir çevirisi ve kapakta Utku Lomlu çalışmasıyla~

کویین عزیز در این لحظه که این سطر ها رو می نویسیم کجاست ؟ سینه ی کدام قبرستان خوابیده ؟ یا در کدام جزیره ی
تفریحی ، خوشبخت آب میوه ی لاکچری خود را سر می کشد ؟ یادر کدام دپوی زباله در شهر محبوبش دنبال نیم خورده ی غذا می گردد ؟ هر جا که هست با هر که نشست و برخاست می کند برایش آرزوی موفقیت و سلامت می کنم

داستان روند بسیار عالی داشت و در طول داستان خیلی جذب کننده بود اما مشخص نبودن پایان داستان به طور دقیق به علت اینکه داستان واقعی هست کمی باعث ضعیف شدن داستان شد. در کل ارزش خواندن دارد.

El autor pone en escena autores y personajes (cosa que hasta Cervantes hizo, lo cual no deja de mencionar) y en la receta incluye reflexiones sobre el lenguaje; y quizás un caso policial pero no lo es en realidad. El resultado es un poco de intriga y un poco de aburrimiento. Luego comete un pecado no venial: Quinn, el personaje principal -sin ningún motivo razonable- empieza a vivir en la calle vigilando la entrada de un edificio, pero es un actitud gratuita desde cualquier punto de vista; y nada preveía que Quinn podía perder el raciocinio (hay tantos disparates en esa vigilancia que dan ganas de gritar).
Finalmente todo termina y nada se sabe del destino de los Stillman.
La prosa es común.