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September 2007 Archives

Reviewed by John Glover, Reference Librarian for the Humanities

cityofglass.GIFCity of Glass is a short, strange scrap of a detective novel that will leave you wondering what happened when it's over, and whether or not you've been had. It is the first of three novels Auster published in the mid-'80s that are collectively known as the New York Trilogy, all of which both serve as and are about mysteries. Fans of Chandler, Christie, Doyle and Queen, as well as latter-day practitioners of the form, will be able to discern many of the traditional elements of a mystery here: threats, private detectives, beautiful women, stakeouts, elusive targets, mysterious phone calls. And yet, everything is different.

The action takes place at a remove, following the actions of the protagonist, Quinn, himself a mystery writer. He becomes embroiled in a "case" when he is mistakenly identified as one Paul Auster, a purported detective. Later in the book Quinn meets Auster, who turns out to be a pleasant, helpful literary novelist. As Opus of Bloom County fame would have said, "Mr. Auster, are you funning with me?" Auster's answer, undoubtedly, would be "yes."

Games and clever language are central to this novel, and the story owes as much to Pynchon or DeLillo as to to any of the above-named mystery writers. This is a captivating mystery, but don't read it expecting to be kept anxiously waiting to find out at the end if the butler did it in the study with a nine-iron. Auster raises many questions in City of Glass, not all of which he answers, and at the end you will be left wondering which part of the novel was the real story -- and if you will ever find out.

Cabell Library PS3551.U77 C5 1985

Reviewed by John Glover, Reference Librarian for the Humanities

gorey.gifEdward Gorey was a strange, strange man who created odd, unclassifiable books (novels? comics? nonsense?) graced by decidedly weird illustrations. Aside from his books, his work appeared in many other places: the opening sequence of the PBS series Mystery, set designs for various theatrical productions, on lunchboxes, on the covers of other authors' books. His illustrations are generally very well suited to the works they accompany, and so even if you've never sat down with one of his books, it's easy to feel familiar with his work.

Prior to reading Amphigorey, my exposure to Gorey had been mainly to his work as an illustrator. This collection, which anthologizes fifteen different books (1953-1965), broadened my understanding and appreciation of Gorey as both a writer and an artist. It opens with The Unstrung Harp, the tale of one Mr. Earbrass' experience writing a novel, and it is better in many regards than a good three-quarters of all other books devoted to that subject. The Gashlycrumb Tinies is a macabre alphabet book, one of his many rhyming/verse works, illustrating each letter with the death of a child in a different manner. The Bug Book is the simple tale of the life of some very happy bugs, and how they deal with sudden appearance of a large and unpleasant bug. The West Wing is one of the oddest in the volume, a wordless book that may or may not have a narrative, and in which a house appears to be the central character. Taken together, the works in this collection are enjoyable, diverse, and fun, and they may challenge you to think in new ways about text and illustration, and what the relationship between the two is or ought to be.

Cabell Library PS3513.O614 A8