Van has finished reading…Book Of Illusions by Paul Auster

2 Dec

The Book of Illusions by Paul Auster

It’s just that I know you, the young woman replies.

Perhaps the least you can ask of a book or a story is that it makes you think. This book made me think a lot. It made me think things like this:

If you read the book, do you know the writer? If the story lives, does the author become the illusion? How much do we really ever know of the people we come across? Are we simply a constellation of solipsisms passing through each other’s fields of gravity? Is what we see in others a reflection of our own invention or the true substance of their projection?

As a writer, to an extent you are inevitably engaged in the production of a solipsism, and the stronger the life of that world, the better the story is likely to be. Every time we write we negate the world around us, which includes ourselves, to give life to the creation. What wonders of literature have existed in the world only in the form of their own unimpeachable universe that will never be seen, and so have never really existed?

Bravo Mr Auster.

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