Not a review, but a thought:

We’re so surrounded by mediocrity that, every now and again, reading someone like Auster is a “so, that(!) is what a talented, skilled author writes” moment.

And then we slowly forget again, amongst the piles of beautiful covers, special editions, and sprayed edges.

'It sounds pretty farfetched to me.'
'Of course it does. But that doesn't mean it isn't true.'

This is a crazy book! To say the least, I have a love-hate relationship with it. I know Auster isn't known for his adherence to what we mere mortals might consider normal or logical, but even for him, this book is nuts. Not just because the events Auster describes are outlandish and disturbing - more than anything, what really gets under your skin is the glaringly apparent intention of the author to present the plot as wholly plausible, as real as fiction can be. (He even has his narrator's life run alongside his own: his name is Peter Aaron (PA), his wife is Iris (anagram of Siri, Auster's real-life wife), his kids share similar names to Auster's kids' (David - Daniel, Sonia - Sophie), and the geographical and temporal context is Auster's own, down to the exact place and month or even day.) This is what makes the book so special, but also, sadly, very annoying at times. Because look: this is classic Auster, right? The obsession with coincidence, the blurred line between fact and fiction, between life and art. But coincidence is a tricky term when you're dealing with Auster. I've heard him correct interviewers who used the word, as he believes it doesn't do his work justice. Coincidence implies an aberration, a deviation from the norm - but for Auster, coincidence is the norm; it's what he calls 'the mechanics of reality'. This is where things get hairy for me. You see, Auster's view of the world is what always keeps me coming back to his work, but at the same time, it's what frustrates me the most when I'm actually reading it. I'm at a point now where I've read about half of his novels, and although I consider him one of my favorite writers, I rarely give a book of his a 5* rating. And I think it boils down to a fundamental objection I have to his notion of 'reality'. Although I adore Auster, I think he's in desperate need of a reality check. Because I no longer believe that his books take place in the 'objective' reality we all seem to experience to a greater or lesser extent, but rather in a parallel dimension, the 'Austerverse', if you will. It's a place where some things are allowed to happen for no obvious reason, while others are so meticulously orchestrated as to seem miles above being termed mere 'chance' or 'coincidence'. With the mechanics of reality as universal law, everything is connected to everything else, and meaning is found in unexpected places. But is it, really? By all accounts, the supreme being of the Austerverse (Mr A. himself) has had a weird life. If you read The Red Notebook, it's instantly clear why he writes the kind of stuff he writes - the massive role that chance has played in his life is baffling. Perhaps it's natural that he turns his experience outward, that he applies the laws of his life to the whole wide world. Nevertheless, it doesn't mean it's always believable, or that it always rings true for everyone else. And as soon as I make that distinction, my experience of reading Auster makes more sense and becomes more enjoyable. Even this book, for all the insanity it contains, is turned into something digestible. This has all been very general, but the madness of Leviathan finally prompted me to get my thoughts about Auster in order. To continue with the theme, I don't think this was a coincidence. Even for Auster, this novel is remarkably self-aware of its own ridiculousness, to the point where I'm left wondering if even the maestro of chance ever doubted if he could pull this one of. I mean, just read this quote:

No matter how wild we think our inventions might be, they can never match the unpredictability of what the real world continually spews forth. This lesson seems inescapable to me now. Anything can happen. And one way or another, it always does.

I don't know, doesn't it smell a bit like someone trying to sell you something? Or this:

There is a point at which a book begins to take over your life, when the world you have imagined becomes more important to you than the real world...

Hmm, you're on to something there, Mr A.

While writing this review, I've been wondering if I'm being too harsh on Leviathan, if I'm judging it for something it's not. After all, the narrative is presented as having been written by Aaron during the two months following his best friend's death. Perhaps it's inevitable that the text is fraught with confusion, that it's painfully limited in its perspective, that the abundance of loose ends and unanswered questions can all be attributed to our narrator's grief, and that the flaws in the narrative are in fact poignant symbols of the impossibility of piecing together a satisfying story about anything, especially about something as complex and deep as mourning. There is a point to be made for that, and to a certain extent, I appreciated what Auster was trying to do. Unfortunately, though, that doesn't explain everything for me, and the metaphor is, in my opinion, pushed too far. It seems a bit too handy an excuse for the avalanche of plotholes and unfinished arcs that plague Leviathan. And again, look how self-aware Auster is of this:

As the book progresses, it takes on a more and more unstable character — filled with unpredictable associations and departures, marked by increasingly rapid shifts in tone — until you reach a point where you feel the whole thing being to levitate, to rise ponderously off the ground like some gigantic weather balloon. By the last chapter, you've traveled so high up into the air, you realize that you can't come down again without falling, without being crushed.

With that out there, some questions I had after finishing were:

Why did Reed Dimaggio kill that kid giving Sachs a ride home? I get that he was blowing up logging camps and didn't want to be discovered, but did he really have to just shoot him? Given the positive light Dimaggio seems to be shown in later in the book, it's shocking that the cold-blooded murder is never addressed again.

What ever happened to Lillian Stern? Her ending is so flat, so unsatisfying, that her enigmatic vibe just turns into an underwhelming loose end.

Why was Sachs signing copies of Aaron's books in the cities he was orchestrating his little attacks in? In every other way, he's so methodical in leaving no traces behing that this behaviour just seems unreasonable, and the little detective plot that bookends the story feels a bit lazy.

And the big one:

Why the FUCK is Benjamin Sachs so hell-bent on destroying himself? I mean, the man is a maniac. He starts out seeming like a pretty normal guy - eccentric, sure, but nothing very far out of the ordinary. As the plot progresses, he just makes the absolute worst decision in every situation, and as the stakes keep getting higher and higher, his attitude to himself deteriorates in a way I've never really seen represented before. This is the central mystery of the book, and while it's not exactly a novelty for Auster (his books abound in lost middle-aged men behaving self-destructively), it plays such a large role that I felt more of an explanation was due. I kept trying to figure out the origin of this mysterious force bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Guilt? Despair at the state of the world? Existential crisis? None of these ever fully satisfied me, and I remained in the dark along with the narrator, pondering the impenetrability of human behaviour. The effect is disquieting, yes, but there are times when it enters the realm of the absurd and becomes grating. As much as I can appreciate the effort to make the reader really feel the inexplicability of Sachs's actions, it's this same effort that often left me feeling annoyed and empty. You can keep your secrets, Mr A., but the reading experience is bound to suffer when the central motivation of the plot is a blank. My ultimate frustration with Leviathan is almost heartbrakingly summed up in this quote:

And even if there was an end, it seemed doubtful that I would ever know about it - which meant that the story would go on and on, secreting its poison inside me forever. The struggle was to accept that, to coexist with the forces of my own uncertainty. Desperate as I was for a resolution, I had to understand that it might never come. You can hold your breath for just so long, after all. Sooner or later, a moment comes when you have to start breathing again - even if the air is tainted, even if you know it will eventually kill you.

Lastly, a minor complaint I have is Auster's often-clunky dialogue. I wonder if anyone else feels like his characters are mostly mouthpieces for the narrator and rarely speak like actual people would.

All in all, this probably feels like a very critical response to Leviathan, but there were actually many things I enjoyed about it. When the weirdness isn't too much, it's downright magical. The book is full of insight into human relationships (I blasted through the first 100 pages where this is more of a focus), full of Auster's piercing intelligence, his trademark cleverness, and his delicious, polished prose. So to finish off, I'll leave you with some of my favourite quotes from the book:

They say that a camera can rob a person of his soul. In this case, I believe it was just the opposite. With this camera, I believe that Sachs’s soul was gradually given back to him.

I have always been a plodder, a person who anguishes and struggles over each sentence, and even on my best days I do no more than inch along, crawling on my belly like a man lost in the desert. The smallest word is surrounded by acres of silence for me, and even after I manage to get that word down on the page, it seems to sit there like a mirage, a speck of doubt glimmering in the sand.

No one can say where a book comes from, least of all the person who writes it. Books are born out of ignorance, and if they go on living after they are written, it's only to the point that they cannot be understood.

Kompletna Osterova scenografija je kao i uvek, tu. Pisci kao junaci, Njujork, politički liberalizam u opadanju, miris mistike
Sve je tu.
Samo što za razliku od većine njegovih genijalnih spisa, ovo ništa ne valja. Ili jednostavno nije na tom nivou.

Gotovo sapunska opera, višak likova i manjak mašte. Preskočite je ako vam je autor drag.

Otra buena muestra del poderío de Paul Auster. Me ha gustado mucho la dualidad entre realidad y ficción que establece el autor por medio de los protagonistas de esta novela. Ese juego de espejos en el que uno nunca sabe si lo que se narra es verídico o no (o quizá lo es desde la óptica del que lo vive, o quizá sólo lo es a medias...). También aporta valor añadido el formato que Auster le da a "Leviatán", escrita a modo de declaración exculpatoria por Peter, amigo íntimo del otro protagonista, Ben Sachs. Quizá me sobra un poco el pseudoheroísmo de este último hacia el final, amén de tantísima coincidencia en los caminos de los personajes que, si bien presentada de forma seductora (los laberintos a que nos tiene acostumbrados Auster), por momentos roza un efectismo con el que no me siento cómodo -y que no necesita el genio de Nueva Jersey.

¡Qué placer da leer a Paul Auster! Un novelón sobre una amistad incondicional, miles de aventuras y personajes peculiares. Una delicia pasar el tiempo con Auster!
Siempre me pasa que no se cuanto de lo que hay es realidad o ficción....

این سومین کتابی ِ که از پل استر می خوندم... خیلی عالی شروع شده و با توجه به تجربه‌ای که از خوندن آثار پل استر بدست آوردم کافیه طاقت آورد تا صفحات 70 اینا و بعد از اون به هیچ وجه نمیشه دیگه کتاب رو بست. به حدی مهیج میشه که گذر زمان رو نمیشه اصلا متوجه شد...
به نظرم پل استر خیلی عالی تونسته تمام شخصیت‌ها رو بهم ربط بده و خیلی زیبا موقعیت‌های پیچیده رو توصیف کرده...

Okuduğum ilk Paul Auster romanıydı, ara ara sıkıldığım bölümler oldu, çok beğendim diyemeyeceğim

WOW! WOW! WOW! No wonder Siri married him. I really think serious stalking in Brooklyn is a possibility my next trip to New York. I utterly ADORED this book. Complete satisfaction. It is not a very long book but it is incredibly dense and the narrative moves along at a good clip. This is the fourth Paul Auster I have read this year and none have been the same. BUT BUT I strongly suspect that this may not be for everyone. It is almost review proof because you really can't say much about the plot.
What I can tell you is that the book starts with the sentence "Six days ago a man blew himself up in Wisconsin" but what happens after that is not what you expect. Relationships, a thriller, political comment (written 20 years ago and warning of US decay) and a very lovely twist at the end.

AND finally I was up at 5am to catch the 7am to Sydney and came back at 10pm but had to update this.I would NOT recommend this as the first Auster, but I'm addicted now.... Dear Paul....,

It's no What I Loved but for originality and writing it completely satisfies. (If you insist on complete plot perfection and don't like coincidence then give it a miss.)

Sorry- had to fix a couple of typos, most notably NOT the first Auster to cut your teeth on - so far that would be Brooklyn Follies

"Six days ago, a man blew himself up by the side of a road in Wisconsin,"

thus starts the gripping tale of Benjamin Sachs. There are books that make you cry, ones that make you smile and sometimes laugh, some make you think and a few that refuse to leave your mind. Then there are those rare ones that leave you with a haunting , disturbing feeling that is beyond any definition. And this is one of those rare ones.

As soon as author Paul Aaron catches the news item in The New York Times, he is absolutely certain about the identity of the dead man. It is confirmed once the FBI reaches him after finding a piece of paper with his name and number from the explosion site. Paul denies any knowledge about who the man could be. He knows he is just buying some time, but for him , however small that time is, he has something important to do before the man's identity is out in the open.

"It's not that I want to defend what he did, but since he is no longer in a position to defend himself, the least I can do is explain who he was and give the true story of how he happened to be on that road in northern Wisconsin."

What follows is a brilliant narration of Paul's friendship with Sachs. From the moment they meet in a deserted bar, buying drinks for each other till both of them run out of money, there is an instant bond between the two writers. While Aaron is at the beginning of his literary career, Sachs already has a published novel to his credit, one that he wrote while in prison. He is also a well known author of regular articles in varied publications. The book takes you through the lives of both of them and their families. As Paul's life and career becomes stable, we find Sachs' life getting more and more troubled. He starts questioning his existence, he feels guilty about his wife's love for him, in fact he even feels guilty about being alive. This leads him to an attempt on his own life. And this proves to be a crucial turning point of his life.

The three female characters that Auster introduces plays a pivotal role in Sach's life - his wife Fanny of twenty years, the eccentric Maria Turner whom he considers his friend and the seductive Lillian Stern. It is as though they are destined to come into his life and turn his life to a different direction at each juncture till it ends up in pieces on a cold morning by a roadside.

To call it a story would be sacrilege. It is the pouring out of a bleeding heart, a futile attempt to make some sense out of the hopelessness that Aaron feels when he thinks of his friend. The more you get engrossed in the life of Benjamin Sachs, the more difficult it is to believe that this is a work of fiction. The characters are deeply etched with all the flaws and weaknesses that a normal or even a slightly abnormal human being could have. Aaron's love for his friend seeps into you as well and you end up feeling as though you know Sachs as much as Aaron did. Some might find the narrative style too descriptive, but I felt that was the real strength of the book. This is one book that will really leave you shaken for some time and even question some of the things that you believe in.


Verdict : If you are looking for the normal path a plot would take with a clever play of dialogues, please turn away immediately. But, if you are someone who loves a brilliant piece of narration and characters that are so strongly developed that you end up feeling like someone close to them, this is pure gold.

That's my kind of book! Beautifully given story of a man's pursuit of identity. Loved it more than I could ever love The New York Trilogy or Invisible (these are the only Paul Auster books I have read)...perhaps, it has to do with the fact that I read the English edition...perhaps, he is one of those writers I enjoy reading in English, but never in Greek!

Leviatan on merihirviö, joka poistaa valon syömällä auringon. Kun yritän ymmärtää, miksi Auster on antanut kirjalleen ystävyydestä näin mahtipontisen nimen pystyn linkittämään hirviön vain ystävään nimeltä Sachs. Tarinassa räjäytellään vapaudenpatsaita, mutta mikään raamatullinen hävityskertomus se ei ole.

Leviatanin luettuani muistin taas, miksi en pidä Austerista. Hän kirjoittaa aina kovasti Austeria muistuttavasta kirjailijasta, jolla on monia suhteita, joka on asunut Pariisissa, on kuitenkin sydämeltään mies New Yorkista, joka liikkuu taiteilijapiireissä ja josta rauhoittuu lumoavan skandinaavinaisen aviomies. En yksinkertaisesti ymmärrä, miten sama kaava riittää niin moneen kirjaan ja miten sillä tuli suosituksi.

Poikkeus kaavassa on salaperäinen ja vasemmistolainen Sachs. Ystävä, kilpailija ja kateuden kohde. Viimeinen oli oma tulkinta.

Nihkeästi ja epäloogisesti etenevä tarina. Ei kirjallisuuden tietenkään tarvitse olla loogista, mutta nyt se häiritsi, koska kuitenkin seurausten syitä analysoitiin tarkasti.

Mi dispiace molto dover abbandonare un libro del mio amato Paul Auster, ma ho due difficoltà al momento:

1. come tutti i libri di Auster, è complesso e non di certo una lettura leggera o d'intrattenimento, e in questo periodo ho senz'altro bisogno di letture più "semplici"
2. la mia copia cartacea è scritta con un carattere piccolissimo che i miei occhi non tollerano, perciò posso leggere solo poche pagine per volta. Potrei prendere in prestito l'ebook, ma per il motivo numero 1, al momento non ho intenzione di farlo.

È comunque un arrivederci, non un addio: rimando a un momento migliore.