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The New York trilogy
av Paul Auster (forfatter).
Penguin Books 1990 Heftet
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The New York Trilogy is perhaps the most astonishing work by one of America's most consistently astonishing writers. The Trilogy is three cleverly interconnected novels that exploit the elements of standard detective fiction and achieve a new genre that is all the more gripping for its starkness. It is a riveting work of detective fiction worthy of Raymond Chandler, and at the same time a profound and unsettling existentialist enquiry in the tradition of Kafka or Borges.
In each story the search for clues leads to remarkable coincidences in the universe as the simple act of trailing a man ultimately becomes a startling investigation of what it means to be human. The New York Trilogy is the modern novel at its finest: a truly bold and arresting work of fiction with something to transfix and astound every reader. "Marks a new departure for the American novel." (Observer).
"A shatteringly clever piece of work...Utterly gripping, written with an acid sharpness that leaves an indelible dent in the back of the mind." (Sunday Telegraph). "The New York Trilogy established him as the only author one could compare to Samuel Beckett." (Guardian).
Bokdetaljer
Forlag Penguin Books
Utgivelsesår 1990
Format Heftet
ISBN13 9780140131550
EAN 9780140131550
Genre Politi og detektiver Krim
Språk Engelsk
Sider 371
Utgave 1
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En underlig, plagsom, fengslende, leken og god bok. Det føles som om mye av innholdet i denne trilogien går over hodet på meg. Dette er noe som på sitt vis er grenseløst irriterende, men samtidig tror jeg også det er en av årets leseopplevelser som kommer til å sitte i lengst. Jeg går enda rundt og tenker på hva som skjedde med de forskjellige personene som blir beskrevet, og mistenker at jeg kommer til å gjøre det for alltid. Hele trilogien føles også som et slags "metafiksjonsprosjekt", hvor det kanskje er meningen at jeg som leser ikke skal forstå. Kanskje disse fortellingene i så måte er et slags speilbilde på hvordan verden og livet er? Det er ikke alt man noensinne kommer til å forstå, og kanskje er det heller ikke meningen at vi skal forstå?
Paul Auster skriver godt og engasjerende, samtidig som han tilsynelatende har gjort det til sin misjon å "føkke" med mange av klisjéene og tropene som kjennetegner krim-sjangeren.
Anbefales uansett til alle som liker mystikk, driv og samtidig en slags mental utfordring.
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[ Slettet bruker ] siterer The New York trilogy av Paul Auster (side 109)
20:25, 12. januar 2013 2 har det som favoritt.
To be inside that music, to be drawn into the circle of its repetitions: perhaps that is a place where one could finally disappear.
As he wandered through the station, he reminded himself of who he was supposed to be. The effect of being Paul Auster, he had begun to learn, was not altogether unpleasant. Although he still had the same body, the same mind, the same thoughts, he felt as though he had somehow been taken out of himself, as if he no longer had to walk around with the burden of his own consciousness. By a simple trick of intelligence, a deft little twist of naming, he felt incomparably lighter and freer. At the same time, he new it was an illusion. But it was a certain comfort in that. He had not really lost himself; he was merely pretending, and he could return to being Quinn whenever he wished. The fact that there was now a purpose of being Paul Auster – a purpose that was becoming more and more important to him – served as a kind of moral justification for the charade and absolved him of having to defend his lie. For imagining himself as Auster had become synonymous in his mind with doing good in the world.
Quinn was nowhere now. He had nothing, he knew nothing, he knew that he knew nothing. Not only had he been sent back to the beginning, he was now before the beginning, and so far before the beginning that it was worse than any end he could imagine.
In the end, each life is no more than the sum of contingent facts, a chronicle of chance intersections, of flukes, of random events that divulge nothing but their own lack of purpose.
Anyway, it’s no big deal. It’s just a book.
It’s June second, he told himself. Try to remember that. This is New York, and tomorrow will be June third. If all goes well, the following day will be the fourth. But nothing is certain.
Words are transparent for him, great windows that stand between him and the world, and until now they have never impeded his view, have never even seemed to be there. Oh, there are moments when the glass gets a trifle smudged and Blue has to polish it in one spot or another, but once he finds the right word, everything clears up.
For the fact of the matter is, all the fight has been taken out of Blue. He no longer has the stomach for it. And, to all appearances, neither does Black. Just look at him, Blue says to himself. He’s the saddest creature in the world. And then, the moment he says the words, he understands that he’s also talking about himself.
I don’t mean to say that he grew up fast – he never seemed older than he was – but that he was already himself before he grew up.
The book could do the work itself, and I saw no reason to deny him the pleasure of entering it cold: with no map, no compass, no one to lead him by the hand.
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Murakami er en unik forfatter, og det er vanskelig å finne bøker som ligner helt presist.
Bøkene på lista er plukket ut av forskjellige grunner. Noen ligner i skrivestil og tone, og noen har elementer av magisk realisme.
Til lesere av Murakami som liker den japanske bakgrunnsrammen, er det tatt med et utvalg markante japanske forfattere.
Liste med ulike trilogiar frå inn og utland!
Kom gjerne med forslag i kommentarfeltet :)
Som småbarnsmor er det ikke lett å få tid til å lese når jeg vanligvis ville lest. Men målet er minst 1 bok i måneden.
Bøker jeg har lest i 2010, oppdateres fortløpende
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