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Title: Bleak, Bleak, Bleak....
Review: This book is very bleak. The first forty pages are the usual Auster dilema (letting oneself somehow slip into a transient and insubstantial existence...without knowing why). But things pick up and a very imaginative plot ensues. Everybody is in control of their own destiny? Whoever that was, I hope they realize that people die every day (and I don't think their deaths are all suicides). This book is bleak. Very, very bleak. But in its bleakness underlies wild imaginative textures, and in that contrast it has a certain charm that is...ineffable. A tip of the hat to Auster. Fiction as fiction should probably be.
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