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3.52 AVERAGE
3.52 AVERAGE
I'm afraid the reports are all true. Paul Auster died in the early 90s. He's been replaced by a i don't even know what.
This book is garbage. Some of the writing is technically impressive, I guess, but it's mostly a hot mess. This is a book about a 28 year old dude dating a high schooler and everyone around him's almost immediately realized journeys to accept and excuse this fact. I guess there's more plot to this thing (there are like 5 other main characters and an abandoned house they all squat in), but Auster seems pretty preoccupied with finding new and creative ways of having literally zero characters conclude the relationship between an adult man and a high school senior is unhealthy.
For a little extra flavor, one of the girls in the house also slept with a teenager in her early 20s. Like why? Why do two characters sleep with teenagers in a book about friends and family traumas? Why are the female characters either out of their mind with lust or working on nude sketches or thinking about how great the sex in their relationship is or talking about whether or not they wanna fuck the main character? I mean, the answer is misogyny. More specifically, the answer is that Paul Auster is a creep and is probably trying to ennoble an erection he got when a 16 year old in short shorts got on the same subway car with him.
I remember New York Trilogy so fondly. It was so interesting watching Auster bend genres and create startling images and create real stakes. I've read this and Brooklyn Follies since, and they are literally 2 of the dozen or so worst books I've read as an adult. Colossally disappointing. But I'm sure I'll be back in 5 or 6 years giving him another shot he doesn't deserve. smh
This book is garbage. Some of the writing is technically impressive, I guess, but it's mostly a hot mess. This is a book about a 28 year old dude dating a high schooler and everyone around him's almost immediately realized journeys to accept and excuse this fact. I guess there's more plot to this thing (there are like 5 other main characters and an abandoned house they all squat in), but Auster seems pretty preoccupied with finding new and creative ways of having literally zero characters conclude the relationship between an adult man and a high school senior is unhealthy.
For a little extra flavor, one of the girls in the house also slept with a teenager in her early 20s. Like why? Why do two characters sleep with teenagers in a book about friends and family traumas? Why are the female characters either out of their mind with lust or working on nude sketches or thinking about how great the sex in their relationship is or talking about whether or not they wanna fuck the main character? I mean, the answer is misogyny. More specifically, the answer is that Paul Auster is a creep and is probably trying to ennoble an erection he got when a 16 year old in short shorts got on the same subway car with him.
I remember New York Trilogy so fondly. It was so interesting watching Auster bend genres and create startling images and create real stakes. I've read this and Brooklyn Follies since, and they are literally 2 of the dozen or so worst books I've read as an adult. Colossally disappointing. But I'm sure I'll be back in 5 or 6 years giving him another shot he doesn't deserve. smh