When K. graduated from university I bought her a ring. It was a lifetime issue denarius of Alexander the Great set in a delicate silver circle that was fully reversable and mounted on a small silver ring. I wrote something about how it was her time to conquer the world (something she's out there doing right now).

Many years later K. started attending this event called No Lights No Lycra. You may be familiar with it, but if you're not, it's an event when you turn up to a community hall or similar space and file in with a bunch of strangers, they then turn the lights off and play a DJ set for an hour. Technically you're not supposed to wear lycra but everyone turns up in active wear so they definitely got that part of the name wrong. It's wholesome fun and every week my partner would go with her friends to dance in the dark. These NLNL events took Sydney by storm and they popped up all over the city (I believe they popped up around the world too). One of these NLNL nights she went to was in a church in Newtown. It was a particularly big night, might have been Beyonce night or something. Like every other week, she danced herself to a standstill and then farewelled her friends and caught the bus home to our place. It was only when she was coming to bed and she went to take her rings off that she noticed Alexander was no longer mounted in the delicate setting on her finger. Needless to say we were both distraught with his leave of absence. He had travelled 2300 years to be with her and now he'd left.

At first light the next morning my darling K. got up and charged off to the church to find Alex on her way to work. An hour or so later I got a call from her saying she was standing outside the church but unable to get in, and there was no one around to help. I told her to go to work and I'd figure it out.

A few years earlier I had read Tim Winton's Cloudstreet and Sam Pickles's, Shifty Shadow, the Hairy Hand of God had always stuck with me.

n  "I only believe in one thing, Les, Sam solemnly uttered. Hairy Hand of God, otherwise known as Lady Luck. Our Lady, if she’s shinin' that lamp on ya, she’ll give you what you want. There’s two other things people say are worth believin in—the Labor Party and God, but they’re a bit on the iffy side for my money. The ALP and the Big Fella, well they always got what I call a tendency to try an give ya what they think ya need. And what a bloke needs most is to get what he wants most. Ya with me?"n

Australia is a nation of gamblers (the highest per capita in the world), as a Kiwi it's always been strange to me how much Aussies love the punt. I'm not a gambling man but I'm also not dumb enough to disbelieve in luck. When Alexander went missing I had also just finished a book which I cannot for the life of me remember the title of but it had a part about how with the most delicate of touch you could slightly tilt the wheel of fate in your direction.

For some reason I felt the Hairy Hand on me that morning. There was this immense luck coursing through me as I left the house. I felt like of all days, today was the day I could tilt the wheel of fate my way, just for one fraction of a revolution.

So I caught the bus to Newtown and walked to the church, the one K. had assured me was bolted shut. I put my hand on the little brass handle of the vestibule door and sure enough it turned easily in my hand. The door opened on an empty church hall, with the pews all stored out the back. All that was left was that vaulted ceiling, those honey coloured floorboards, and at the front of the room the DJ's table. Shafts of light beamed in from the western windows, dancing on the dust motes floating in the silent hall. I thought about methodically tracking my way across the floor inch by inch but I could still feel the Hairy Hand on me and so instead I walked slightly to the left but straight up the middle of the hall and when I was about halfway across there was Alexander just sitting there.

That was at least 7 years ago and yet I remember the feeling of the Hairy Hand on me as if it's there right now. Unfortunately, I've never experienced a moment like that since and I'm not sure I ever will again.

Paul Auster's stories bring that feeling back, he's a man who intrinsically understands what Sam Pickles is saying. He's a man who has made a career out of the movements of the Hairy Hand.

Paul Auster'in okuduğum ilk kitabı. Her biri birkaç sayfalik kısa öykücüklerden oluşuyor. Kendisi Çağdaş Amerikan edb. yazarı dikkat çekmek istediğim nokta ise Fransız, İngiliz ve İtalyan edebiyatı eğitimi almış olması ki bu ne kadar zengin bir birikimi olduğunu aklıma getirmiyor değil. Kolay okunan bir kitap yüz sayfa küsur gerçek hayattan öyküleri içeriyor. Çoğu kendisinin bazen duyumlardan yola çıkmış. Yazarda okuru inandırma çabası var, vurgu yapıyor arada, bakın bunlar gerçek kafamdan sıkıp atıyorum sanmayın dercesine, ben olsam yapmazdım. Bir okurun yazara güveni olmalı inanmayan kişiye zaten ne derseniz de boş. Güzel ve ilginç hayat parçalarını içeriyor kitap. Daha başka bir şey denemez.

Me leí este libro en un período de dos horas aproximadamente y ha sido una lectura genial y super ágil.

No se que me ha gustado más, si la pluma del escritor, cómo narra y detalla las cosas, sin realmente detenerse en los detalles o las historias que plasma en si, pues me parecieron historias de fantasía, a pesar de que son reales. El autor les dio un toque que, no se, hizo que las simples cosas de la vida, fuesen mágicas.

Me ha encantado de principio a fin.

Balık tutmayı hiçbir zaman sevemedim. Yine de, balık tutanların aldığı keyfi ve hissettikleri huzuru da hep merak etmişimdir. Kısa öykülerden de benzer bir keyfi kaçırmıştım yıllarca. Aile büyüklerimizin evinde eski tip takvimlerden olurdu. Her yeni günün ardında; basit, kısa ve genelde dini öyküler olurdu. Sevmezdim, ama sıkıntıdan okurdum. Bu kitap da onun gibi kısa öyküler barındırıyor. Ancak; okurken, sandalın içinde balık tutarken, huzur ve keyif içinde buldum kendimi. Belki hiçbir zaman balık tutmayacağım ama böyle kitaplar orada aradığım tadı bana sunacak.

“Geçen yıllar en azından bana şunu öğretti: Cebinde bir kalem varsa, büyük olasılıkla bir gün onu kullanmaya başlamak gelecektir içinden.
Çocuklarıma hep söylediğim gibi, işte ben böyle yazar oldum.”

Paul Auster, bana postmodernizmi sevdiren yazar. Her kitabın aşırı akıcı geliyor bana. Seni seviyorum.

Nothing more beautiful than Paul Auster’s works as his autobiography .. very passionately illustrated essays about his personal memoir , selections of books he translated & why and finally a selection of short passages on (why write?) ..

Loved it as his amazing literate works ..

Auster’in romana veya hikayeye dönüşme potansiyeli olan olayları not aldığı 19 anekdot. Oldukça ilginç olanlar var. Auster klasiği olarak tesadüf teması yine göbekte, şaşırtıcı karşılaşmalar ve hayatın açıklanamazlığı ile dolu aktarımlar var bolca.

“Auster, sen kimsin yaa...” ile ilgili de güzel bir öykü yazsa da okusak..

Hace mucho que no leía un libro entero de Paul Auster. De vez en cuando me gusta hojear "Brooklyn Follies", ver los párrafos que marqué hace ya un buen tiempo, para recordar. Hay algo reconfortante, tremendamente satisfactorio en su prosa sencilla y directa, en sus párrafos musicales y tranquilos.

En este libro, como en el anterior mencionado, Auster se convierte en un cazador de coincidencias mundanas, o más bien, su presa. El título alterno a este conjunto de textos (junto con otros más) que le puso anagrama fue "Experimentos con la verdad", y es completamente justificado, pues Auster juega con las expectativas del lector literario: al contar historias tan descabelladas que sólo podrían suceder en la vida real, nos hace cuestionarnos los límites de la verosimilitud.

Además, el tono personal que pone Auster en cada una de sus páginas lo hace siempre entrañable, nos da una sensación cálida al regresar a cualquiera de sus libros.

¡Qué buena forma de volver!

Von Zufällen und anderen Unwahrscheinlichkeiten; ohne Schnörkel vorgetragen. Weiß aufgrund seiner Schlichtheit zu überzeugen.

The Red Notebook, Paul Auster

The Red Notebook is a story-in-a-story collection by Paul Auster. The book consists of four parts, all stories which had appeared previously: The Red Notebook (1995), Why Write? (1996), Accident Report (1999) and It Don't Mean a Thing (2000).

They are true stories gathered from Auster's life as well as the lives of his friends and acquaintances and they have all one thing in common: the paradox of coincidence. Auster narrates things he writes about in his fiction, making one wonder if he's really telling the truth.

تاریخ نخستین خوانش: روز بیست و سوم ماه آگوست سال 2012میلادی

عنوان: دفترچه ی سرخ ؛ نویسنده: پل آستر؛ مترجم: شهرزاد لولاچی؛ لیلا نبی فر؛ تهران، افق، جاپ دوم 1390؛ در 146ص؛

دفترچه‌ ی سرخ سری گفتگوهایی است موشکافانه با «پل استر»، که ژرفای اندیشه‌ های این نویسنده‌ ی پست‌ مدرن را میکاود؛ ایشان در اين گفتگوها برداشت‌های همیشگی درباره‌ ی ادبیات را به سخره میگیرند، نیاز به آفرینش ادبی را موشکافی میکنند، و همینگونه فهمیدن دشواریهای ادبیات را آسان‌تر میسازند؛ در بخشی دیگر، رویدادهای واقعی، همچون رویدادهای نشر شده در روزنامه‌ ها، دستمایه ی آفرینش داستان‌هایی نامنتظره شده‌ اند؛

کتاب «دفترچه ی سرخ» شامل سه بخش است؛

بخش نخست دربرگیرنده سه گفت و شنید با «پل استر» است، که در آن گفتگوها با جنبه های دل انگیزی از شخصیت «استر»، و همچنین با روش کار و سلیقه ی ادبی ایشان بیشتر آشنا میشویم

بخش دوم کتاب، نوشته هایی است به قلم خود ایشان با عنوان «داستانهای واقعی» که رخدادها و رویداهایی که دستمایه ی ایشان برای آفرینش آثارش شده اند. «استر» خود درباره این داستانها، در جایی از همین کتاب نوشته:«همه داستان ها حقیقی هستند، کاملا حقیقی.»؛

بخش آخر نیز شامل دو نگاره ی پایانی است که نخستینش مصاحبه منتشر نشده ای است، که دانشجویی برای تهیه پایان نامه اش درباره ی کتاب «سه گانه نیویورک» با «پل استر» انجام داده، و دومی یادداشتی است بر آثار «استر»، با عنوان «روایت پست مدرنِ استر»؛

در گفت و شنیدهای بخش نخست، تمرکز بر روی آثار «استر» است، و روش کارش در نوشتن و خواندن از نویسندگان مورد علاقه ی خویش و مفاهیمی که در نوشته هایش وجود دارد، نکته ای که گاه با غلو «استر» از دنیای داستانی اش همراه است، خوانشگر از بینابین این گفت و شنیدها درمییابد که «استر» نویسنده ای با دیداری درونی است، و بسیار شخصی مینویسند؛ «استر» در یكی از گفت و شندیدهایش میگویند: «هرچه بیشتر به نوشته هایم میاندیشم، مسائل نظری برایم کم اهمیتتر میشوند؛ وقتی به کتابهایی فكر کنی که تحت تاثیرت قرار داده اند، متوجه میشوی که آنها هم به همان دلیل نوشته شده اند؛ چیزی آدم را صدا میکند، به سمت خود میکشد و باعث میشود به روایت گوش دهی؛ در نتیجه، این موضوع ارتباط چندانی با ادبیات ندارد»؛

تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 17/06/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی

Tuhaf olaylar silsilesi, olması neredeyse imkansız tesadüflerle dolu müthiş bir kitaptı. Oldukça sürükleyici ve akıcı olması da cabası.

Ein kleines, aber feines Büchlein. Alle Geschichten fand ich sehr gut, was wirklich nicht oft vorkommt bei Kurzgeschichten. Aber hier waren alle wunderbar. Ein typischer Auster, den ein Thema immer besonders umtreibt: die "Zufälle" im Leben und das Zusammenspiel dieser Zufälle. Und ganz genau auch mein Thema!