Paul Auster, a celebrated American author known for his love of typewriters, has died at 77. He gained fame for his “New York Trilogy” and was a notable figure in postmodernist fiction.
Born in Newark, New Jersey, in 1947, Auster’s writing career began at the age of eight when he missed out on getting an autograph from his baseball hero, Willie Mays — who was outside the players’ locker room after a game — to not having a pencil. From then on, he always carried a pencil with him, and his writing journey began. After graduating from Columbia University in 1970, he moved to Paris, where he began translating French literature and publishing his own work in American journals.
Auster’s big break came in the mid-1980s with the publication of “”City of Glass,” the first novel in his “New York Trilogy.” This trilogy cemented his reputation as a master of postmodernism, as he blended detective fiction with existential questions about identity, space, language, and literature. The trilogy brought him worldwide acclaim and established him as one of the signature New York writers of his generation.
A major theme in Auster’s work was the role of chance and coincidence. This fascination can be traced back to a life-changing event he witnessed at the age of 14 while hiking during a summer camp. He saw a boy standing just inches away get struck by lightning and die instantly. This experience profoundly impacted Auster, and it became a recurring motif in his fiction.
While Auster was born in New Jersey, he became synonymous with Brooklyn, where he settled in 1980. He was seen as a guardian of the borough’s rich literary past and an inspiration to a new generation of novelists who flocked there. His works often used New York as a backdrop, with Brooklyn featuring prominently and his characters grappling with life’s randomness and chance occurrences.
Auster’s body of work includes over 30 books, ranging from novels to memoirs, poetry, and screenplays. His notable works include “Moon Palace,” “The Music of Chance,” “The Book of Illusions,” “Leviathan,” “4 3 2 1,” and, of course, the “New York Trilogy.” His writing imposed a sense of irreality, inviting readers into a world where the lines between reality and fiction blurred.
Paul Auster’s passing is a reminder of the profound impact writers can have on our lives. His words will continue to resonate with readers for generations to come, and his influence on contemporary literature will forever be felt. As he once said, “If there’s a pencil in your pocket, there’s a good chance that one day you’ll feel tempted to start using it.”
I’ve been busy working on my next book, a collection of science fiction short stories, while compiling a mixtape for Mr. Ted Munk. In preparation for the fiction manuscript, I printed it out and painstakingly used my comb binding machine to punch holes along the sides of the pages to accommodate the plastic comb binder.
Although it’s a bit of a chore, it’s well worth the effort. It significantly enhances the manuscript’s readability, adding a personal touch that makes the experience of delving into the stories much more intimate and engaging. This hands-on approach not only makes the material more accessible but also reflects my deep commitment to creating a work that fully immerses readers in the thematic and conceptual depths of my narratives.
As for the mixtape, I decided to go with a microcassette, which offers 30 minutes per side. It’s quite a rarity these days, as not many people use them anymore. However, Mr. Ted Munk mentioned in one of his blog posts that he exchanges mixtapes with those who take the time to send one his way.
Intrigued by this idea, I thought I’d try my hand at creating a tape for him. I chose to fill it with a selection of jazz guitar tracks, believing it aligns well with his musical tastes, at least based on the genres he frequently discusses in his blog. I hope he finds the compilation to his liking.
They were setting up for Santa in front of City Hall.
I loved the topiary nutcracker holding the presents, and when the woman walked by eating a pastry, I knew I had my shot.
I did not stay for the lighting of the Christmas tree, but I did capture this video of the city bus driving by the tree that the city lights up every first Friday in December.
How could I resist taking a snapshot of this huge Christmas ornament outside the Chamber of Commerce?
The American Clock Company is going out of business after many years of serving the community. It was the only place where I could get the battery replaced in my old watch. The guy who ran this old curiosity shop of clocks and timepieces also fixed my grandfather’s wall clock by installing a new battery-operated mechanism. This is one business that will be missed. When this guy walked by holding a bag of chips and a sandwich, I took the snap.
The photograph showcases a man and a woman standing amidst a verdant backdrop. The man, wearing glasses, dons a casual green t-shirt and has a slight smile on his face. The woman, standing to his right, is dressed in a vibrant red dress and radiates happiness with a broad smile. Her hair is pulled back, emphasizing her high cheekbones and bright eyes. The foliage behind them, with a mixture of light and shadows, creates a serene atmosphere. Their close proximity and warm expressions suggest a comfortable and familiar relationship between the two.
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