The late Paul Auster became another casualty this week to the glacial pace of life-draining cancer. The final chapter of his life reads like the mysterious first chapter in one of his novels. Auster's rhythmic yet economical writing is often about hiding larger motives then making you the detective who has to unearth exactly how the pieces fit together.
Auster's "City of Glass" opens his most famous work — "The New York Trilogy." After years of living in France where he translated American novels into French, Auster turned the detective novel into an existential journey within the mind. Whose mind you are rifling through, well Auster leaves that one up to you.
In "City of Glass," Auster introduces his protagonist Quinn. A writer who makes just enough money from his detective novels to live in the city and occasionally savor its wonder. Reducing his life to the simplicity of enjoying art, reading, and the release of it all on a good walk. Quinn earns just enough to maintain his lifestyle (although, he may have to give up his phone) and protect himself with lies about how well he is doing. This insulation is also necessitated by events from what we will call his past life.
In his tiny little apartment, Quinn writes as William Wilson. Wilson lives as the titular gumshoe Max Work whose misadventures are slightly derived from Quinn's habit of devouring other detective novels — possibly only to maintain the steady flow of ideas and correct the mistakes of others in his work. There between griping about the Mets and diving into his bedside copy of "The Adventures of Marco Polo," Quinn, living off the spoils of William Wilson, living off the liminal being Max Work is disturbed by a random phone call late one night. The "mechanical whisper" on the other end of the line asks for "Paul Auster."
Like the absurdist self-exploration of "Being John Malkovich" wrapped in veiled reveals and threats of a detective novel, Auster has exploded the modernist view about writing about one's self into a multiplicity of selves. After taking the next call, Quinn is in a dark room with the voice from the line as the voice spins his exploded view of life.
I am Peter Stillman, that is not my real name. My real name is Peter Rabbit. In the winter, I am Mr. White. In the summer, I am Mr. Green. Think what you like of this. I say it of my own free will.
As "City of Glass" proceeds Auster clouds identity with the mischievous glee of characters speaking in an enigmatic code. Stillman, and his Peter Lorre-like sense of using normal life as a mask for personal wreckage, gives only the most chilling clues in his Lewis Carroll-like speeches and wanderings. A day later (that's right, that is how long Stillman keeps Auster/Quinn "in the dark" — so to speak,) his femme fatale-style wife Virginia appears to (possibly) fill in the blanks.
The question is what is Auster concealing in here? Is this an exercise in writing that amuses him? Auster was not tremendously famous here in the States. While well-respected among his peers, Auster was a "rock star" in France. Yet, his writing is only similar in intent to their heroes — Camus and Sartre. In addition, as your guide for this and to honor the late scribe, I cannot simply spell out his biography except to possibly match how Virginia Stillman describes the "real Peter Stillman."
At 14, Auster's idyllic summer camp experience was cut short by seeing a fellow camper struck by lightning. Auster said that experiencing death firsthand "changed him." After receiving his writing degrees from Columbia, he translated books first before venturing into writing prose essays, and poetry. Once he settled on a style of life left up to coincidence and chance, Auster could construct any writing around this. So, he wrote novels, screenplays, and even co-directed the 1995 film "Smoke." His later works would contain more real-life conversations as if Auster was more eager to use his fame to allow other unheard voices to speak.
In "City of Glass," Auster keeps human interaction near the top of the list of immediate reactions and motives that require no thought. The physical realm of his writing needs to feel "lived-in." Auster wants us to relate to Quinn and keeps his lifestyle ascetic for two reasons. First, it establishes his being of deep thought and concentration. Second, it preserves all of your detail collection for the self-exploration that he demands from you for each character he creates. In any novel, this is a hard bargain as we need those "mental portraits" to keep them in our minds. Could it be that cloaked in the trenchcoat of multiple identities, Auster does not want you to believe that anyone else is the protagonist but him? Rest in prose.
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Mik Davis is the record store manager at T-Bones Records & Cafe in Hattiesburg.
New music this week
KINGS OF LEON - Can We Please Have Some Fun [RED LP/CD](Capitol) • Recovering from the passing of the Followill family matriarch, Kings of Leon return with an old-style ROCK album. After a few years of chasing hits and being branded a new U2, KoL with help from Kid Harpoon revert back to the squall of their original introduction via "Aha Shake Heartbreak." No worries, the guitar pyrotechnics stay just as anthemic as their fan favorite "Because of the Times" ("Nothing To Do.") For every lyrical misstep ("muscle magazine next to the toilet"? in the AAA/Alt crossover hit "Mustang,") they manage to tame what could be a subterranean riff in other hands. The largest credit for this ninth album of Kings of Leon may be their being the first band to get nostalgic for the warp-speed Bloc Party/The Rapture post-punk wallop of the early 00s.
DEHD - Poetry [PURPLE LP/CD](Fat Possum/The Orchard) • While the band has been through it personally, the ups and downs of their relationship have created a definitive pattern of growth. With their lo-fi charm and the twin rasps of Emily Kempe and Jason Balla, Dehd has quietly grown into a reliable singles/Indie Rock machine.
The heat of "Blue Skies" twin ditties "Bop" and "Bad Love," is now spread more evenly across the moody verses and swooping choruses here. "Light On" is amazingly simple. Eric McGrady's big Bo Diddley-esque beat. The easy pulse of Kempe's bass and a healthy chime from Balla's guitar are all that is necessary. "Mood Ring" is a sparkling Shangri-La's slice of Sixties Pop filtered through Indie thump. Kempe's vocals are the best they have ever been. "Poetry" leaves you wanting to sha-la-la-along with them.
POKEY LAFARGE - Rhumba Country [LP/CD](New West/ Redeye) • Given its retro vibe and the haze of classic tube-lit production, the revivalist Pokey LaFarge becomes a retrofuturist here. "Rhumba Country" is a hook-packed, densely polyrhythm-led bundle of fun. With his old-school warble drowning in reverb (along with the ghostly background vocals,) LaFarge erects a Sixties vibe with organs, pianos and fewer Americana instruments that ever before. LaFarge and Elliot Bergman have made a record that sounds eerily like Natalie Bergman's overlooked and brilliant "Mercy." Inspired and joyous, "Rhumba Country" revisits that classic AM radio gaze to sound World-ly.
ARAB STRAP - I'm Totally Fine With It... [YELLOW LP/CD] (Rock Action SCO/Redeye) • Classic Scottish acts continue to have a stellar 2024. After the revved-up revival of The Jesus and Mary Chain came back almost as loud as their classic debut in 1986, Aidan Moffat and Malcolm Middleton are back with a bracing new album. Boasting massive beats and loud, distorted guitars, the Scottish burr sounds strangely sweet on tracks like "StrawberryMoon" and the heartbreaking ballad "You're Not There." Moffat's deep growl is growing more controlled with age. What was once menacing, is now enticing. "Allatonceness" REALLY gets your attention.
KNOCKED LOOSE - You Won't Go Before You're Supposed To [LP/CD](Pure Noise) • Kentucky's Knocked Loose have quickly risen to the top of Metalcore/Hardcore in the US. They trade the Death Metal crush of 2021's excellent "A Tear In The Fabric of Life" for a more immediate Bad Brains-style burst of high-contrast raw energy. "Suffocate" with Poppy is just as advertised. A stop/start screaming match with eerie Nine Inch Nails-ian background accents. As atonal as they might get, there is a thunderous Deftones-ian midpoint that sells it all. "Don't Reach For Me" touches on the rapidly growing speed-up toward Death Metal, but catches its fire from a bendy, swollen Nu-Metal style grind out. "You Won't Go Before You're Supposed To" is their most dark album yet especially in the quiet moments.
