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The Brooklyn Follies (2006)

The Brooklyn Follies (2006)

Book Info

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Rating
3.79 of 5 Votes: 2
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ISBN
0312426232 (ISBN13: 9780312426231)
Language
English
Publisher
picador

About book The Brooklyn Follies (2006)

One of the numerous minor characters that flit in and out of The Brooklyn Follies is one James Joyce -- not the writer, but a Foley walker, a person who makes sound effects for movies. His job isn't all aural pyrotechnics, though: he is described as working on minutia, such as "turning the page of a book, or opening a box of crackers".Similarly, Paul Auster textures his latest novel with little details that seem insignificant in themselves. When weaved into the narrative, however, they have the power to evoke great poignancy -- perhaps more than the lacklustre plot actually deserves.The narrator is Nathan Glass, a retired insurance salesman who is newly divorced, estranged from his family, and blighted with lung cancer that might or might not kill him soon. At first light, he is a protagonist prepared to go gentle into that good night: "I was looking for a quiet place to die. Someone recommended Brooklyn, and so the next morning I traveled down there from Westchester to scope out the terrain."But this is a Paul Auster novel, meaning that life-changing coincidences are the order of the day. It is thus in Brooklyn that Glass runs into his long-lost nephew, Tom Wood. Tom was once a promising academic, but has since dropped out of graduate school, and now works at a rare-book dealership run by the enigmatic Harry Brightman.Gradually, Nathan finds himself entangled in the shenanigans of friends and family, with a forgery involving Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter thrown in for good measure. Nathan makes an engaging narrator: by turns wry and bitter, but always frank, he describes events in the energetic, kinetic voice that is Auster's strength.Pity, then, that the characters whose tales he must tell are cringingly stock: there's the flamboyant homosexual with a shady past; the confused young woman who dabbles in porn, blues singing and Christian evangelism (not all at the same time); and the precocious child who outwits the grownups, but is really just hurting inside.If the plot unfolds in a rather contrived manner (an unavoidable problem when you traffic in coincidences), the reward for reading is in the embellishments, the plays on words and numbers that are trademarks of Auster. In this novel, names get the grand treatment: besides the polarity of Glass and Wood, we get fantastic monikers like Honey Chowder and Harry Brightman alias Dunkel (which, as Auster takes pains to point out, means dark).Auster sometimes underestimates his reader: at times, characters come right out and explicitly state the significance of various motifs. This heavy-handedness is akin to extravagant sound effects that, rather than enhance the film, serve to jar you out of the reality of the movie.Less obvious, but still palpable, is Auster's affection for his characters. Make no mistake: he does put his characters through a lot of hell -- after all, every novel needs conflict to keep things interesting. But you get the sense that Auster does want them to live happily ever after, or at least live out their disaffection in material comfort.Ultimately, everyone in the novel is looking for refuge, and the story takes us through Utopia's many guises, from the leafy streets of brownstone Brooklyn, to fantastic realms that exist only in characters' imaginations. The seductiveness of escapism is perhaps best expressed in an anecdote Tom tells Nathan about Franz Kafka.According to Tom, in Kafka's last year of life, there was one day when he met a little girl who was distraught because she had just lost her doll. In order to cheer her up, Kafka began writing letters to her in the persona of the doll, distracting her from her loss by presenting her with an attractive alternate reality:"She has the story, and when a person is lucky enough to live inside a story, to live inside an imaginary world, the pains of this world disappear. For as long as the story goes on, reality no longer exists."Even September 11th, which is when the narrative concludes, is unable to completely shatter the optimism Auster injects into the end of the novel. Rather than leave us with the burning World Trade Centre, Auster stops time at eight in the morning, the last hour before the attacks. Nostalgia permeates that suspended moment of innocence -- the ultimate refuge, perhaps, from these tumultuous times.

Justo en el momento en que en esta novela apareció una niña de nueve años que no hablaba supe con certeza que todo estaba perdido. Así que desde aquel momento la única razón que me quedaba para terminar el libro era para poder destrozarlo después sin ningún tipo de piedad. Ya aviso. Juro que yo lo empecé con mis mejores intenciones, dispuesta a olvidarme de los incontables ratos de aburrimiento que me había proporcionado Auster en el pasado, dispuesta a olvidarme de todos los prejuicios adquiridos a lo largo de los años y a empezar de nuevo con él, pero hacia medio libro ya me entraron ganas de arrancarme los ojos con un tenedor para así no tener que seguir leyendo más. En mi primera adolescencia leí la 'Trilogía de Nueva York' y me impactó como pocos libros me habían impactado, sobre todo el primero de los tres relatos, 'La ciudad de cristal'. Era un libro complejo, inteligente, ambiguo, y desconcertante, que te hacía pensar y abierto a diferentes posibles interpretaciones. Todo lo contrario de 'Brooklyn Follies', que es el libro más superficial, simplón y obvio que he leído en mucho tiempo. Y ni en el mejor de los sueños se puede calificar con el eufemismo de "entretenido", porque es tan previsible que produce dolor de cabeza. Promete ser una colección de anécdotas divertidas de personajes variopintos del barrio de Brooklyn, pero no tiene ni anécdotas, ni personajes curiosos (los personajes son los de siempre de Auster). Y menos aún tiene diversión, sobra decirlo. ¿Y por qué me parece tan malo? No sólo porque Auster ya haya contado lo mismo otras veces, sino porque los personajes son tópicos, la trama es de lo más previsible y está mal escrito. No es que parezca que Paul Auster esté escribiendo con el piloto automático, sino que más de una vez me he preguntado de veras si aquel libro no lo ha escrito Auster sino un negro, aunque lo de asumir que un negro sea incapaz de escribir un poquitín mejor también es un prejuicio. El caso es que me cuesta creer que la misma persona que escribió 'La Trilogía de Nueva York' haya creado también semejante engendro. Se nota que es un libro escrito de cualquier manera, a piñón fijo, para las masas, aunque ni yo (esnob reconocida como soy) me puedo creer que las masas sean tan tontas como para que les tengan que escribir un libro de una forma tan simple como está escrito éste para que se lo puedan leer. Y es que es uno de los libros con menos misterio que he leído nunca, te lo da todo digerido, no es sólo que te cuente todas las motivaciones de los personajes de una forma directa y sin tapujos (y por tanto, aburrida), sino que encima te cuenta incluso qué lectura tienes que sacar de la obra. Y encima es ñoña ñoña, ñoña de verdad. Con reencuentros, reconciliaciones, niñas adorables y traumatizadas que no hablan, historias de amor cogidas por los pelos, fracasados que por fin encuentran la felicidad, muertes efectistas, malos malísimos sin escrúpulos, el once de septiembre, e incluso un rescate heroico... Cursi cursi. Todo especialmente diseñado para manipularnos emocionalmente. Pero conmigo no funcionó, porque juro que a veces se me escapaba la risa con tanto patetismo. Éste es un libro que hace todo lo contrario de lo que se supone que tienen que hacer los libros: te convierte en un lector totalmente pasivo, no te hace pensar, te lleva de la mano y no te suelta ni un momento como si fueras un niño estúpido que necesita vigilancia constante y una guía férrea porque sino te vas a perder. Es paternalista y condescendiente. En resumen es una novela que te atrofia el cerebro Y ¿he dicho que es ñoña? Ah, y contar una serie de anécdotas sobre escritores no te hacen parecer más listo (aunque sean anécdotas de Kafka, que ya conocía, por cierto).

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Uma das personagens de "Slaughterhouse-5 - The Children's Crusade" de Kurt Vonnegut proclama a certa altura que existe um livro que te pode ensinar tudo o que precisas saber sobre a vida, mas que este já não é suficiente. O livro a que se referia era "Os Irmão Karamazov" de Dostoievski. Esta citação levou-me a ler esta importante obra de Dostoievski. De facto, "Os irmãos Karamazov" explora e analisa - aliás, disseca - impiedosamente todas os grandes temas que assombram a humanidade. É abordado, através de duas gerações de Karamazovs, nascimento e morte; fé e ateísmo; amor e hedonismo; perdição e salvação; a diferença de classes; a resiliência, perversidade e grandiosidade do espírito humano - em resumo, quase todos os aspectos e questões que caracterizam a existência humana. "Anna Karenina" de Tolstoi fá-lo também, mas sob uma perspectiva mais "burguesa" e menos impiedosa, desviando o olhar dos seus aspectos mais desagradáveis e perturbantes. Mas de facto "Os Irmão Karamazov" já não contém em si "toda a vida". Afinal, foi publicado no Século XIX e desde então o homem deparou-se com novas questões e dilemas morais, usufruindo de um acréscimo de liberdade religiosa, politica e social para o fazer (pelo menos numa boa parte do globo). No relativamente curto numero de páginas de "The Brooklyn Follies" são abordados quase todos os mesmos temas, e alguns outros, mas sob uma perspectiva mais moderna e menos ambiciosa. Não estou de todo a sugerir que "The Brooklyn Follies" esteja ao nivel de "Os Irmãos Karamazov" ou de "Anna Karenina". A comparação refere-se apenas ao facto de ser uma obra que abrange muitos temas e questões sobre o género humano sobre uma perspectiva moderna. Ouvira sempre esta obra ser catalogada, no contexto da obra do seu autor, como um "Auster-inferior" por isso abordei-a com algum cepticismo. Fiquei agradavelmente surpreendido. A sua prosa simples é viciante, as suas personagens fáceis de amar e os temas que aborda são inúmeros e abordados de uma forma tão directa e simples (mas não simplista) que se torna fácil nos identificarmos e relacionar-nos com estes. A sua narrativa não vai além de retratar momentos e conversas na vida de um leque de personagens bastante variado, sui-generis e credível, mas estes momentos e diálogos são tão interessantes e a forma como comunicam tão enternecedora que se torna um verdadeiro prazer espreitá-los. Da obra transpira ainda um despretensioso e genuíno amor pela leitura e inclui ainda uma belíssima historia sobre Kafka e uma boneca que me humedeceu os olhos. Apesar de ser um livro essencialmente terno e sobre o poder do amor e da tolerância, a crueldade, fanatismo e indiferença do ser humano também se encontra devidamente representada em certos momentos que poderão ser chocantes para alguns leitores. Mas apesar destes o amor e tolerância prevalece sobre a dor e crueldade existente na vida destas personagens, tal como o leitor deseja que assim seja durante a leitura do livro.
—Hugo Emanuel

Nathan Glass, a retired life-insurance salesman diagnosed with lung cancer, moves out to Brooklyn to die. Throughout the course of the novel, he reunites with his nephew, becomes friends with a charismatic criminal-minded bookstore owner, and receives an unexpected visitor. The title stems from a series of notes Glass is putting together on life's mishaps, eventually to be formed into The Book of Human Folly. It's a touching book with the types of well fleshed-out, "I know that guy" type of characters. A little more feel-good than I was expecting.Auster in his writing deals with unreliable narrators, which on the positive side leaves opportunities for mystery and interesting reflection. But in The Brooklyn Follies, at times Glass might not have been reliable enough to be believable. For a first person narrator, he gives extremely detailed accounts of other people's lives--stories where, in reality, he would have just had a general synopsis of. The academic dialogue will turn off some readers--the nine-year-old seemed overly precocious (but then again, I don't know many nine-year-olds, so maybe that's unfair)...and nephew Tom, who dropped out of grad school during his thesis, talks like a term paper.My favorite characteristic of the story is a question Auster poses of how people find serenity in their surroundings. Nathan finds harmony in Brooklyn, which is why he chose it as his final destination. Tom has a different notion of serenity, dreaming of developing a small society in the woods, escaping American industrialization. Auster manages to make both scenarios seem desirable. Reflecting back on the book, that was powerful to me since lately I've been trying to decide what my ideal environment is--whether it be city, suburban, or rural life. Sometimes the inconvenience of one makes the other seem more desirable, while sometimes small things, like a scene you witness on the street or your favorite diner, makes you appreciate your current setting. Lately as I've been dealing with the obnoxious cost of living in the NYC area, I wonder why people living in extreme poverty stick around when they could be living in small-town America for a fraction of the cost (yeah, I realize how naive that can sound on paper). What makes a place feel like home? Your family, your job, being able to see a musical once a week? For Glass, a large part of it was the culture of the city.
—Kelly

IN PRAISE OF FOLLYThe Brooklyn Folliesby Paul Auster Do not fool yourselves. Behind a narrative with a literary style – the narrator’s – apparently intuitive and simultaneously filled with a straight simplicity and ornaments that seem to evoke a 19th century writing ('there is no escape from the wretchedness that stalks the earth'), a world of allusions and references are hiding, and these make The Brooklyn Follies one of the most inspired works of Paul Auster.The narrator of the story is Nathan Glass, a retired insurance clerk who decides to become a self-taught writer, and you need to be a great author like Auster to take the risk of letting a feeble writer like Nathan control the narrative and still fascinate the reader. Maybe that’s because there are things that can only assume a great expressiveness through the simple words of a simple person – the honest and yet naïve talent of enchantment and illusion becomes more plausible through the voice of the ignorant than through that of the wise man. Or, in a different perspective, and using a Shakespearean analogy, Iago does not fully pronounce the words of accusation, he knows the effect will be far more devastating if Othello himself verbalises the corollary of suspicion that will destroy him.In spite of all, the usual Auster is there: once more an abrupt beginning – 'I was looking for a quiet place to die'; once more a character-writer; once more a book-within-the-book; once more Brooklyn; once more an immeasurable yet unfulfilled will that some details, waved at us en passant, had been more deeply developed because we are sure that other springs are hidden there – it wouldn’t be the first time that Auster carries a detail, a character or a situation from a novel to develop it in another one; once more so many traces that make up, on their own right, what can already be entitled an Austerian – but not austere – style… Repetitive? No way. Despite so many references and common traces, The Brooklyn Follies is a completely new work, and not just because of the style imposed by the narrator’s voice which, to the eyes of the Auster reader is like Coca-Cola in the advertising catch-phrase devised by the Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa, 'primeiro estranha-se, depois entranha-se' (first you drive it out, then it drives into you).The Book of Human Folly, the book within The Brooklyn Follies, the agglomerate of short stories, episodes, loose sentences and descriptions that Nathan Glass writes and reveals throughout the novel is a real prestidigitator’s hat and shows well Auster’ talent to compose anecdotes of human life with a large amount of likelihood (already proven in his National Story Project, which led to the collection True Tales of American Life). These are the anecdotes that make up the traces of the bigger anecdote, for Nathan’s life is also anecdotic – and like any good comedian of life, he finds himself a suitable sidekick for the comedy, his huge nephew Tom Wood, who had vanished from his life years ago and was reencountered in Brooklyn during the new stage of his/their life/lives. The associations may be countless, from the comedy partnership of Laurel and Hardy to the static tragicomedy union of Vladimir and Estragon, but what is certain is that the relationship between the two characters ends up becoming, to a great extent, the fuel that propels the action.I could still mention, to conclude, the themes focused throughout the “follies”, the “follies” of life by themselves – passion, friendship, ageing, dream, homosexuality, ambition, disillusion… – but all those aspects, and many others, only mean a new wrapping for the big streamline, the timelessness that we start to find as a pattern in Auster’s work: the path taken by human life, filled with chance, coincidence, detours, returns, surprises, encounters and evasions and, above all, a lot of folly.
—Vasco

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