17 november 2005


Titel: Orakelnatten
Originaltitel: Oracle Night
Författare: Paul Auster
ISBN: 9170012741
Förlag: Månpocket
Format: Pocket
Utläst (var, datum): Slottsgatan,
BKTJD: 2610
Köpt: Pocketklubben
Köp: Adlibris / Bokus

Jag ville skriva massor av smarta saker om den här boken. Jag hade dem på tungan då, men fick aldrig riktigt ur det.

Jag ville skriva om tabula rasa: tomma anteckningsböcker med kraft att välta världen, självuppfyllande ord och skrivkramp. Men det blev aldrig så. Ännu värre blev det när jag läste artikeln Erik länkade till för några veckor sedan. Artikeln stjälpte över mina tankar och de har inte lugnat sig ännu. I och för sig var implikationerna större för Vad jag älskade, men jag funderar ändå i precis samma banor som jag gjorde om Orakelnatten. Magiska ord.

Jag klipper in ett långt citat från artikeln, mest för att inte glömma:

In 1979, Auster concluded his Portrait of an Invisible Man, of his father, with these words:

”Past two in the morning. An overflowing ashtray, an empty coffee cup, and the cold of early spring. An image of Daniel now, as he lies upstairs in his crib asleep. To end with this.

”To wonder what he will make of these pages when he is old enough to read them.

”And the image of his sweet and ferocious little body, as he lies upstairs in his crib asleep. To end with this.”

It was these words that touched me, and made me curious to investigate what had become of this little boy. Now I am filled with a profound sense of sadness.

In Hustvedt’s book, What I Loved, the father of the troubled boy dies of a broken heart. But this is fiction. Auster is as productive as ever, still averaging a book every eighteen months. Of his most recent book, Oracle Night, Guardian critic Sean O’Hagan says that its ”noir shadings… and shockingly violent interludes… are indicative of a late style that is both darker than the Auster of old, and somehow more life affirming. They speak of endurance, survival, reinvention; the trajectory that one does not give up, follows loss, attends to the grieving process.”

”Every life is inexplicable,” says Auster’s narrator in The Locked Room, the final novella in The New York Trilogy. ”No matter how many facts are told, no matter how many details given, the essential thing resists telling… We all want to be told stories… We imagine the real story inside the words, and to do this we substitute ourselves for the person in the story, pretending that we can understand him because we understand ourselves. This is a deception.”

Eclectica Magazine Reflections on glass (2005-10)

Publicerat: torsdagen 17 november, 2005 klockan 22:54.

Kategori: 2652 böcker kvar.