Rating: 
Summary: pseudo
Review: I might be ignorant, but this book didn't appeal to me at all. I read it during my summer holidays, and it wasn't bad entertainment. However, I don't like the plot of the three stories, and especially City of Glass is a bit too "pseudo". Some passages are like reading Umberto Eco, but without his brilliance and more important without importance to me as the reader!
I rate this book 2 stars; 1 for Auster's writing, which (without doubt) is good ,and 1 for his description of New York. I've never had the pleasure to visit the city, but in this book it comes alive.
My conclusion will be: If you want mystery novels stick to Raymond Chandler, and if you want the rest stick to Umberto Eco ;-)
Rating: 
Summary: A collection of novelas about identiy and writing
Review: This book is advertised as detectives stories, but they are not in the strictest sense of the word. These are stories about trying to find and maintain your identies, and not about finding murders or kidnappers.The first story "City of Glass" is about a writer, Quinn, who has lost his family and seems to be lost without a purpose. One day he recive a phone call for by mistake, the call is for a detective Paul Auster. Out of interest Quinn decides to say he is Paul Auster and takes the case. Quinn gets so involved in the case he loses everything else in his life. His only lifeline during this time is a red notebook that he makes notes about the case in. It is in this notebook that he tries to figure out who he is. The second story, "Ghosts," is meant to be like an old dective story, a la Dashell Hammett. It has a very surreal quality about it none of the charcters have real names, they are named after colors. The story centers around Blue who is hired to watch Black. All Black does is sit in his apartment and write. Just like Quinn in the first story Blue loses his himself in the case and in Black. The question is who hired Blue and why? The third story, "The Locked Room," is about a man who is never given a name, and his childhood friend Fanshawe. Fanshawe has disappeared leaving his wife, child, and his unpublished work. He leaves the task of deciding what to do with the unpublished work to his friend. As his friend goes about getting the work published he becomes closer to Fanshawe's wife and son. The friend and Fanshawe's wife finally marry. The friend's troubles begin when he is asked to write a book about Fanshawe's life. He becomes so absorbed in Fanshawe's life he almost loses himself in it. Can Fanshawe's friend save himself and his life before it becomes lost in Fanshawe's. Each character in each story struggles with who he is. Auster plays with his role as a writer in these stories. In the first story he puts himself in by name, and at the end of the last story he tries to explain why he wrote this collection of stories. Overall this is collection is well worth the read. It is full of imagery and well written. I highly recomend this book for anyone who is looking for a book that will make them think, but is a quick read.
Rating: 
Summary: Intelligent and inventive
Review: "New York Trilogy" is intelligent, interesting, and inventive, albeit problematic in some ways. The trilogy contains three novellas that largely stand on their own, but also bear some relationship to each other. The novellas could be considered reinvented or perhaps dysfunctional detective stories of sorts. While each involves a mystery, they lack the action and denouement of traditional detective stories. Instead, the mystery behind each story is something of an intellectual conundrum that engages the reader with the act of authorship. Who and what is the writer? What are the writer's motives? What happens when the writer attempts to solve a mystery (as in "City of Glass")? What happens when the writer is the source of a mystery (as in "The Locked Room")? The novellas are largely metaphorical (the writer as a detective, the writer's brain as a locked room, the writer as more than one person) and are rewarding on a symbolic level. Unfortunately, Aster is a skilled enough detective writer to lead us down a non-existent path of genuine mystery. "The Locked Room" contains enough tension and ingredients to make us believe we are reading a real detective story. The largely intellectual conclusion comes as something of an anti-climax and almost makes me wonder if the story ran wild in Auster's head to the point where he could not think of a suitable way to finish it. Issues like this and the stiffness of the language bothered me to some degree but did not diminish my appreciation of Auster's work. This is certainly one of the more inventive books I've encountered and I enjoyed it tremendously. Whether or not it is Post-Modern or can be attributed any other academic trope is of course irrelevant.
Rating:
Summary: A Crystal Ball
Review: In City of Glass, Paul Auster establishes a dialogue between the genre of the mystery novel and the mystery of life. One's exploring the counter-physical architecture of that magnificent imaginative space. A touchstone for critique is lodged in the first encounter between Quinn, an author turned detective, and Stillman, the man who is perhaps the mad, ex-scholar he is pursuing. In a metalinguistic interchange, Stillman asserts that words have a life of their own, meanings and sounds which reading pleasure is greatly enhanced by keeping a journal (preferably a red spiral notebook) for reflection and elaboration of the book's multifaceted themes. The experience for me was like entering Escher's painting, House of Stairs, and "...[fly] off in so many little directions at once." The character further explains that the common view of words "...as stones, as great immovable objects with no life, as monads that never change" breaks down upon immediate inspection. That is, stones wear down, erode, turn into dust, scatter into the wind, compile into sedimentary rock...etc. And thus does the plot perambulate from the upper West Side of Manhattan to the motivation of a character, to the relationship between the author and his character, to the relationship between the author and the reader, back again into works of literature, particularly Don Quixote, now summoning the grand biblical image and orthography of the Tower of Babel, finally wending its way into the precincts of bodily desire and the comforts of home and family...making its way back toward that inexplicable of inexplicables, love. So choose your meditation: Does the author become detective descend into madness or ascend into divine embrace? Is there a difference between the two? Why does the book constantly turn a mirror upon the reader? Have we solved any mysteries at all? Do we really know, for example, that the author has not made Quinn a pseudonym for himself? Are not their thoughts a little too intimately interwoven? Where does Auster stand in relation to the author? To Don Quixote or Miguel Cervantes? To Mookie Wilson? to yourself? Whatever strand of DNA you try to decode, you should come to appreciate that while discussion of the text is open, "[e]verything becomes essence; the center of the book shifts with each event that propels it forward." And so will grow your feeling of awe and wonder at being alive. The City of Glass is really a crystal ball where you can gaze upon a Universe that looks back upon itself.
Rating:
Summary: Reality is what you make of it
Review: How do you discuss a mystery that's not a mystery? More importantly, how do you WRITE three mysteries that aren't? And still manage to create involving, memorable, and deeply disturbing novels? I don't know how, but Paul Auster has figured out. In the space of three short novels, Auster has developed mysteries that are more concerned with ideas than plot, with the style of writing rather than the content. He has, in short, written THE NEW YORK TRILOGY. Describing the plots does no justice to the novels (they are, after all, practically plotless), but I will endeavor to summarize. CITY OF GLASS tracks Quinn, a frustrated novelist who agrees to accept a detective case, after being mistaken for the detective Paul Auster. GHOSTS follows the exploits of Blue, a detective hired by White to spy on Black, for reasons which remain obscure. THE LOCKED ROOM is centered on an author who has been charged with the task of tending to an old friend's vast literary output, after the friend has mysteriously vanished from civilization. As mentioned previously, these novels ARE mysteries, on their surfaces. (That's initially what drew me to their pages.) But Auster isn't concerned with the intricacies of the detective genre. He is far more fascinated with the image of the author, that person who creates people out of thin air and smoke. Auster delves into what the make-up of such a person may be, a person who's public character is defined by the artistic output, not by whom the author actually is. Who the author actually may be, or what the author's opinion is as to his or her own writings, is not important. It is a schizophrenic life, to be sure, and Auster knows it. Are we defined by our inner monologue, or do our actions govern our identities? Is who we purport to be as important as how we appear to be? CITY OF GLASS is an excellent example of Auster's musings on this theme. As Quinn slowly begins to develop his detective persona, he can feel his previous author persona begin to slip away. By his inadvertent creation of a new persona, he erases his past; but as he was only really defined by his novels, it is a far easier task than it first appeared. This culminates in an exploration of the inner workings of personal discovery that reminds me of nothing so much than Arthur C. Clarke's elliptical finale to 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY. Is it environment, or public perception, or biology that determines what we turn out to be? Auster interweaves this theme into all three of his novels. The character of Stillman, in CITY OF GLASS, is so obsessed with this idea that he deprived his son of any form of contact, trying to discover the hidden, secret language of God. Fanshawe, in THE LOCKED ROOM, is determined that he distance himself from what he was perceived to be, unwilling to accept anyone's characterization of his psyche. Blue, in GHOSTS, discovers that what he fears the most is true, that his existence is his job; outside of that, nothing he thinks or feels has any effect. Mind you, none of this would raise the themes above the quality of a academic treatise without Auster's remarkable writing ability. While he may be loathe to be judged by his output, the fact remains that Auster can relate a story with the best of them. His characters, while purposefully vague, still manage to create an empathy with the reader. The quest for identity, that search for the ego, is a universally understandable topic. Auster achieves the feat of simultaneously having the characters understand themselves at the same time that the reader does. Any discussion of the past is irrelevant, it's the NOW that matters. The author in THE LOCKED ROOM gradually understands this in his quest for the missing friend Fanshawe. What he discovers about Fanshawe only serves to confuse. Perhaps he was better off with his own personal memories, rather than try to incorporate the recollections of others. Auster also realizes that one's opinions about a novel can differ from another's; it makes no difference. What is important is what YOU thought, not what others may tell you to think. The NEW YORK TRILOGY seems designed to provoke different responses, alternate beliefs as to what it all means. I personally haven't been privy to such a possibility as to the ultimate meaning of a thing since witnessing Peter Greenaway's remarkable film THE COOK, THE THIEF, HIS WIFE AND HER LOVER. What does it all ultimately mean? Who knows? What's important is that it affected me, on a level I wasn't expecting. It is a pleasant surprise.
Rating:
Summary: A Puzzle of a Book About Mysteries
Review: Unfortunately, Paul Auster's unique work, "The New York Trilogy," is one of those books usually purchased because of word-of-mouth advertising than off-the-shelf interest. The problem with people telling you about this little collection is that you often build a preconceived notion about what to expect from the work, either good, bad, or strange. If a book ever existed that should be read without any prior knowledge of it whatsoever, The New York Trilogy is it. The book - really a collection of three novellas, originally published separately - follows the adventures of three different men on three different pulp-novel-style investigative cases. To give away more plot does the reader a disservice; after all, while one can describe a series of exhibits on a carnival's "Freak Row," recreating the emotions involved in walking down that alley defies the conventions of language. Language, and its employ, surrounds many of the events in these books. Auster plays with the reader, offering a mystery as engaging as the ones his characters attempt to solve. He scattered the clues throughout the book, but the responsibility of creating meaning from them - and, by extension, from the book - lies solely with the reader. If that seems unfair of Auster to expect of a reader, and too intellectual and highbrow for people interested in a casual experience, "The New York Trilogy" contains plenty more to recommend it. The mystery of meaning (provided the postmodernists and their odiously pretentious "scholar"-lapdogs haven't ruined such fun things for you) is an optional part of enjoying this work, and those looking for a great read should not be turned away. Vivid, haunting descriptions of The City (by all means, read this book in New York if you have the chance) mingle with stories that show an obvious awe and respect for film-noir and pulp detective stories. Hopelessness, sorrow, happiness, luck and chance, double-crossing, and redemption all combine to form three solid stories that tickle the mind. One gets the impression that Auster wrote this work almost as a tribute to the noir-pulp style, while attempting to offer the reader another mystery, should the reader desire such a challenge. The seeded subcontext in the book offers quite the literary experiment, and like all experiments it doesn't always work. It usually lies in the background, suggesting its presence, but occasionally comes forward and distracts - and detracts - from the main work itself. In addition, the content matter and strange circumstances might put off those with preconceived ideas (thus, my attempt to say much while revealing little). Auster's "Trilogy" certainly merits a read, although it may not immediately appeal to all sensibilities.
Rating:
Summary: Not my cup of tea...
Review: I was given this trilogy as a gift, and sadly I have stopped reading it after the first book. I didn't find the main character in the first book very believable, in that he seemed to be rationally driven, but at every step he made such stupid mistakes. I also found Auster rambles on and on for pages at times on topics that are only loosely connected with the storyline. This can often be done well, but he does it by telling rather than by showing, which I find to be one of the biggest differences between a good book and a bad one. I was quite surprised at the many positive things I've heard about this book. I suppose it just wasn't for me.
Rating:
Summary: Embracing the Waves of Further Question
Review: Auster is all (brilliant) form. Each of these three stories bleeds into the next, the final story returning to the initial one creating a cohesive (w)hole. The questions that arise out of this formal design, the main characters' dogged search for 'facts', are exactly what makes these stories most intriguing. There's a steady disintegration of mystery novel corners and/or any contrived plot to guide the action; inturn, it's the muti-levelled angles (products of such a disintegration) which guide the action. The accretion of questions is the most telling here, not pre-arranged or supposed answers. The questions themselves slowly elucidate the characters involved. In this way Auster's Trilogy (especially the last story) is cousin to one of my favourite novels, Nabokov's 'The Real Life of Sebastian Knight' (though without any of the rich lyrical word-play; again, here it is ALL formal). In both, the closer the characters want to get to the certainty of their respective 'mystery' the farther away they are from it; the multi-levelled ways with which the reader can deal with such an arrangement makes for great reading. A metaphor for the writer dealing with the self? The past's infringement upon and perversion of the present and future? The blurred line between reader and writer? An author's revisiting his former work, his past self? It's none of these things and it's all of these things and it's very very engaging. I must also point out that Auster's use of reference, to himself (the man behind the curtain); to New York City; to Don Quixote; to even Alice in Wonderland, are further brilliant aspects to this intriguing novel, a rip-tide of questions the reader is immersed in, darkly and most artistically.
Rating:
Summary: A brilliant evocation of the creation of art
Review: We read this book in our book club, and it received less than stellar response from the other readers, but I have always found Auster a rather idiosyncratic "taste" just the same. The initial story, my favorite of the three in the trilogy, is "City of Glass," is a portrayal of an aimless character, who finds himself drawn into a mystery, for which there is little to gain and an obtuse and not particularly linear structure. The "noir" story structure is used throughout, and though there is certainly mystery of a sort as to how the smaller clues will lead our hero to piece things together, and arrive at the stories conclusion, there is a meditation on language and how ideas are conveyed that is really at the root of the events of the story.
Rating:
Summary: The New York Trilogy for the new Millenium
Review: When I think about the 2 or 3 days in which I threw myself into this book, unable to pry myself from its grip (e.g. on the first evening I was persuaded to make a ham omelet), I'm reminded of a quote by William Faulkner - an epigraph in Modris Ekstein's book 'Walking since Daybreak:' "There is no such thing as 'was' -only is." Faulkner's singling out of the semantic "was" is no doubt something Auster would appreciate; but on another level it is revealing of how stories can be powerful and enlightening not for what they tell but for what they carry around with them. For instance,'The New York Trilogy' is brimming with insightful readings of literary figures (Don Quixote), with renderings of well-known stories (by H. James), of legends and biographies - indeed, Whitman, Bahktin, Casper Hauser and Robert Mitchum all make an appearance. The point is that nothing can be told that hasn't in some way been told before; everything has a precedent; "...you know the story already by heart," Black says to Blue, and in one way that is a prerequisite. The weight of the book, its texture, place, sound all resonate with a "culture" of books and sounds. And yet knowing the story already doesn't take away from its power or brilliance but just the opposite. -dg
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