There are a few authors who I’ll follow just about anywhere; Paul Auster is one of them. Over the past couple years as I’ve read his catalog, I’ve enjoyed his description of even the darkest and bleakest situations. Leah described his work as “primarily meta-fiction” when she first introduced me to Auster — and he definitely excels at that — but that’s only part of the appeal. In works like _`Invisible http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invisible\_(2009\_novel)`__, Auster uses creates a fictional world that he then uses to explore how we think about identity, shared experience, and stories.
[Warning, the following may contain spoilers, although I don’t think they would degrade the actual reading experience.]
Invisible begins in 1967, when the protagonist, Adam Walker, meets a visiting college professor, Born, and his girlfriend, Margot, at a party. This chance meeting gives rise to a business deal, the celebration of which is marred by a mugging that turns violent. It isn’t until the second section of the book that we realize the narrator is not Adam, but a college friend, James, now a successful author. James has received the preceding section from Adam much later in their lives, as the first part of a book Adam hopes to write. This book, like Invisible, will have four sections — spring, summer, fall, winter. The sending of pages, the recipients admiration for the original author (James believed Adam would go on to greatness), and the eventual responsibility for publication all echo the story of Fanshawe in The Locked Room, part of The New York Trilogy , one of Auster’s earlier works.
Invisible depicts a progression, both mechanically and for its characters. The characters deal with a push-pull of good (intellect) and evil. The book describes an interesting tension between sex and justice, how they interlock and how we distance ourselves from our actions seeking both. Auster uses different voices to emphasize the distance, telling each part of the story in a different voice. The first section is told in the first person, second in the second person, etc. The fourth and final section is told from the perspective of another person through a diary, with Adam, the protagonist, absent except in reference. As the story progresses, the details fall away in another reflection of this distancing.
Invisible works for me on many levels: as a story, as moralistic exposition, as a demonstration of using the mechanics of writing to further a story. Most importantly, it was enjoyable to read and drew me into a world where the line of what I know and what I think I know is never quite clear.