Currently, I consider myself to have only one vice. It's a rather innocent one, to my taste. It's quite tiny actually, not at all life-threatening. It's more of a desire, should I say. It's nothing evil, malicous or devilish in any way. Some don't even see it as a vice at all, more as a lifestyle. It's not something detrimental; rather, it's a godsend to the economic market. It might be somewhat self-indulgent and totally superfluous at times, but we all have our little sins, now don't we?
Yesterday, I was walking around the city, doing a little Christmas shopping with my Dad, when naturally, we ended up in front of that hallowed building on the Bondgenotenlaan. You know the one I'm talking about, I'm sure. It's four letter name is music to my ears. F. N. A. C. God, if I had to pick a store to live - and eventually die - in, it would be that one. I know I might sound crazy, but I swear this whole charade has a point!
For now, I want to focus on my more literary-oriented 'problem': books. As my eyes were scanning the rows and rows of books, I had three possible books-to-buy in mind: Ayn Rand - Atlas Shrugged or The Fountainhead (the latter of which I bought, the first wasn't in stock anymore), a novel by Mario Vargas Lloza and The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. Both The Fountainhead and The Angel's Game are now in my possession, as for the middle one, I couldn't quite find my taste there, so I kept looking and stumbled across the vast row of books belonging to one Paul Auster.
Okay, you really want me to say it, don't you? Fine. All your badgering has worn me down: I'm totally addicted to shopping. Although, in my defence, it's all about books, movies and games. So it's not like I'm wasting thousands of euros on cars, houses, jewellery or women. Maybe by now, I will have spent some thousands of euros on those three most holy of things, but I mean, it's not like it was all spent at once. It's been done in installments. So it's not so bad, right?
Yes, I know I'm totally rationalizing now. Quit busting my hump... I'll get to the point - and merit - of this little 'addiction' of mine soon enough!
Yesterday, I was walking around the city, doing a little Christmas shopping with my Dad, when naturally, we ended up in front of that hallowed building on the Bondgenotenlaan. You know the one I'm talking about, I'm sure. It's four letter name is music to my ears. F. N. A. C. God, if I had to pick a store to live - and eventually die - in, it would be that one. I know I might sound crazy, but I swear this whole charade has a point!
So, I was heading up the stairs towards my favourite section, or should I say: sections, plural, for my passion spreads equally among two media: books and movies. My first stop was movies. I love movies, but I'll deal with that separate addiction in another blog.
For now, I want to focus on my more literary-oriented 'problem': books. As my eyes were scanning the rows and rows of books, I had three possible books-to-buy in mind: Ayn Rand - Atlas Shrugged or The Fountainhead (the latter of which I bought, the first wasn't in stock anymore), a novel by Mario Vargas Lloza and The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. Both The Fountainhead and The Angel's Game are now in my possession, as for the middle one, I couldn't quite find my taste there, so I kept looking and stumbled across the vast row of books belonging to one Paul Auster.
I had already read his New York Trilogy (or at least, I'm about fifty pages shy of finishing it) and I am completely in love with his writing. His writing feels so natural and not at all in-your-face like with some authors. If ever you are in the vicinity of a Fnac filiate, be sure to check the book section for Paul Auster, I promise you, he does not disappoint!As my hands were sliding across the backs of his novels, my eyes read the titles with great anticipation. Titles such as Leviathan, Oracle Night and Sunset Park flashed before me, but they stopped as soon as they read Man in the Dark. It was a fairly thin book, maybe that's why I became drawn to it, since it is a time for studying and not for self-indulgence, I figured I'd allow myself this one little masterpiece to read in those final moments between tiredness and flat-out sleep.
I started reading the book last night and I'm finding it hard to put down. It's an amazing story about a man well into his seventies, who's living with his daughter and granddaughter. Circumstances have left them all devastated in some way and they're all kind of going through the motions. August Brill is a paraplegic and after his daughter has hoisted him into bed and she herself has fallen asleep, August lies wide awake, unable to sleep. So he starts to invent stories...
"..., but how to stop the mind from charging off wherever it wants to go? The mind has a mind of its own. Who said that? Someone, or else I just thought of it myself, not that it makes any difference. Coining phrases in the middle of the night, making up stories in the middle of the night - we're moving on, my little darlings, and agonizing as this mess can be, there's poetry in it, too, as long as you can find the words to express it, assuming those words exist."
The story he is creating in his mind revolves around an alternate reality. In our world, the presidental elections of 2000 saw George W. Bush being elected as President of the United States and he would maintain this function for eight years. The Twin Towers fell on September 11, 2001 and ever since, America has been at war with Iraq. In August's story, the presidential elections are the point of divergence.
The Twin Towers still stand and America is not at war with Iraq, but with itself. The elections were met with severe civil unrest and the United States descended into chaos. New York secceded and soon other states began to follow. A new geopolitical entity called the Independent States are formed and all across the world, anti-nationalist movements are fracturing nations and sparking wars throughout.
It is in this alternative reality that Brick wakes up. He remembers his life in the other world vividly, although he is currently trapped in this otherworldly nightmare. Brick is picked up by a Sergeant named Serge (and yes, he's aware of how that sounds) and told about the state of things:
"There's no single world. There are many worlds, and they all run parallel to one another, worlds and anti-worlds, worlds and shadow-worlds, and each world is dreamed or imagined or written by someone in another world. Each world is the creaton of a mind."
It turns out that the world August Brill has created in his mind has come to life and the war he is imagining is dead real for the people in Sarge Serge's world. They want nothing more than for the war to be over and to this end, they have given Brick the assignment to kill August Brill. They reckon that, if they kill the one that thought up the war, the war itself will cease to exist.
What follows is an intricate web of August Brill's saddened and melancholic life and Brick's conflict with returning safely to his world (as we know it to be) and the thought of killing a man whose death may or may not end a fictional (?) war.
At some point in the novel, August Brill is talking about a friend he used to know, a man named Gil and his wife Betty. At the core is a very sad story about a man who had high hopes, but was cast down by society and who ultimately died. After that, he tells the story of what happened to his wife, and how he ends it, kind of stuck to me. It's not what you would call a magnificent piece of literature or some groundbreaking sentence like Jane Austen's "It is a truth universally acknowledged...", but still, it's moving and quite profound:
"There were only two possibilities. Either her body had given out on her or she had taken pills, and I didn't want to know the answer, for neither one of them would have told the real story. Betty died of a broken heart. Some people laugh when they hear that phrase, but that's because they don't know anything about the world. People die of broken hearts. It happens every day, and it will go on happening to the end of time."
In any case, the Man in the Dark has certainly earned a special place in my little literary Hall of Fame and I hope you'll consider buying/borrowing or lending it out soon! It's only 180 pages and costs about eight euros in the Fnac. So be sure to check it out - if you want, no pressure!
As a parting note, here's a quote from a critic:
"After a dozen novels one is used to watching him break new ground. This time, Paul Auster breaks your heart too."
It turns out that the world August Brill has created in his mind has come to life and the war he is imagining is dead real for the people in Sarge Serge's world. They want nothing more than for the war to be over and to this end, they have given Brick the assignment to kill August Brill. They reckon that, if they kill the one that thought up the war, the war itself will cease to exist.
What follows is an intricate web of August Brill's saddened and melancholic life and Brick's conflict with returning safely to his world (as we know it to be) and the thought of killing a man whose death may or may not end a fictional (?) war.
At some point in the novel, August Brill is talking about a friend he used to know, a man named Gil and his wife Betty. At the core is a very sad story about a man who had high hopes, but was cast down by society and who ultimately died. After that, he tells the story of what happened to his wife, and how he ends it, kind of stuck to me. It's not what you would call a magnificent piece of literature or some groundbreaking sentence like Jane Austen's "It is a truth universally acknowledged...", but still, it's moving and quite profound:
"There were only two possibilities. Either her body had given out on her or she had taken pills, and I didn't want to know the answer, for neither one of them would have told the real story. Betty died of a broken heart. Some people laugh when they hear that phrase, but that's because they don't know anything about the world. People die of broken hearts. It happens every day, and it will go on happening to the end of time."
In any case, the Man in the Dark has certainly earned a special place in my little literary Hall of Fame and I hope you'll consider buying/borrowing or lending it out soon! It's only 180 pages and costs about eight euros in the Fnac. So be sure to check it out - if you want, no pressure!
As a parting note, here's a quote from a critic:
"After a dozen novels one is used to watching him break new ground. This time, Paul Auster breaks your heart too."
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