Thursday, August 24, 2017

An Epic Coming of Age Story...In Four Parts: Auster's 4321

Many a year ago, I lost my passport at LAX after I foolishly put it into my copy of Paul Auster's The New York Trilogy. I spent the next few days feverishly running around Los Angeles, getting proper identifying documents and obtaining an emergency passport, which allowed me to continue my journey to Taiwan to teach English. Although I got to spend some lovely extra days with my now departed grandmother, I swore off Paul Auster, angered at the sneaky way his novel enveloped and stole my travel papers.

However, I felt an urge to break from my pledge when Auster's 4321 was long listed for the Man Booker Prize. Nonetheless, the 866 pages was a big red flag to avoid it, as were the mixed reviews, many of them suggesting this door-stop of a tome was long winded and meandering. But then I got the notice from the library that the audiobook version was available and I decided to give it a try. After the 36 hours of audio files uploaded to my phone, one can imagine my consternation to hear Auster announce himself as the reader. Another red flag, authors are traditionally horrible readers and this just felt like another indication that no one wanted to perform it. But I persisted and dove in, and ...

WOW! What a book!

First lets deal with the bad stuff. It is way too long! Auster goes on and on, telling the story four different times (I'll get to that in a moment), and the sentences are rambling and his little tangential vignettes of stories within stories at times feel ostentatious and bragging, Auster showing off how interesting a writer he is. Another qualm I have is that the story feels dated. We have heard the Jewish kid growing up in post-war New York many times before, told by masterful writers like Michael Chabon and Philip Roth. Auster is certainly part of Roth's cohort of writers and in many ways the themes explored feel redundant, having been explored before. 4321 is also way too male, told exclusively from the perspective of a young boy/man, dealing with boyish/manish issues, with women prominently featured, but only as appendages to the main character (his mother, his girlfriend, his teacher). Auster is certainly respectful, but when the lack of diverse voices is an issue in modern literature, Auster certainly does nothing to rectify this problem.

That said, WOW! I literally got goosebumps after the book ended.

4321 is the story of Archie Ferguson, the son of an electronic goods store owning father and a photo shop owning mother, growing up in and around New York City from just after the end of World War II and culminating with the resignation of Richard Nixon. The major world events assert themselves into the plot, with Archie having to confront the civil rights movement and the Vietnam War during his formative years, we are taken on Archie's journey of personal growth and struggle, love and hate, sex and death, accomplishment and devastation. As personal as the story is, it is also unabashedly political, reflecting the radical mood of the times.

Sounds conventional, right...but here is the hook...Auster does not give us one Archie Ferguson, he gives us four. Four alternative timelines, each diverging at key moments, forks in the road (be it death, or divorce, or financial ruin, or a deforming car accident) that sets Archie onto radically different paths. Jumping back and forth between the timelines, Auster reveals how often small but momentous events alter not only what we end up experiencing, but also our personalities, our chosen passions, our romantic pursuits. I found myself rushing to listen whenever I had a moment, eager to see what would happen next to Archie Ferguson 1, 2, 3 or 4.

And after listening to Auster's voice for 36 hours (and his voice is marvellous, deep and impassioned, without raising his volume once) he does not let us down, tying things so beautifully, leaving us with a tinge of breathlessness and melancholy but also energized (goose bumps people!). As others have noted, Auster sticks the landing, making the very long journey worthwhile in the end.

So this book is definitely not for everyone. I don't believe it will be shortlisted for the Man Booker. I also won't hard sell it (maybe I already have though) unless one feels compelled, but if you feel needing to dive into a 866 page doorstop of a book give 4321 a shot. If you make it to the end, I don't think you will be disappointed.




Tuesday, August 22, 2017

A Poor Man's John Irving: The Heart's Invisible Furies

I received an Advanced Reading Copy of John Boyne's The Heart's Invisible Furies from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

Cyril Avery is the adopted son of two middle class Irish parents, growing up in conservative Ireland. Gay, in love with his best friend, but clandestinely finding sexual adventure in the dark alleys and parks of Dublin, Cyril keeps his secrets from his closest friends, embarrassed and afraid of legal repercussions. Eventually, however, he must come to terms with who he is and in doing so devastate all those around him.

John Boyne has given us a powerful story of love and loss, sweeping us across historical eras, from the dark and puritanical 1950s to the gay marriage referendum that legalized same-sex unions in Ireland. At once poignant and devastating, Boyne gives us an emotionally powerful book that delves deep into the pain and suffering that came along with being gay in post-war Ireland. The writing is beautiful and the characters are complex and sympathetic, maybe to a fault.

So while I strongly recommend this book and others have as well (Michael Kindness from Books on the Nightstand gave it a glowing review and Liberty Hardy certainly gushed over it this week in her podcast All The Books), I felt that it fell short in replicating the power of the author Boyne is trying to emulate, John Irving. Boyne goes as far as dedicating the book to Irving but it does not quite rise to the level of a Prayer for Owen Meany or The Cider House Rule, either in emotional power or in quality of prose. The absurdist elements are a little too absurd, the connecting dots that tie the story together fit a little too perfectly, the reader is able to see what is coming a mile away. This does not take away from Boyne putting out an incredibly important and powerful novel, just that it doesn't necessarily accomplish as much as the likes of Hardy suggest.

Either way, this book has tons of buzz and will get heaps of readers from those who already love Boyne's previous works and those convinced by Kindness's and Hardy's very powerful voice in the world of book recommendation. It's a worthy read and hopefully will find a readership as bowled over as they were.