Nominated for an Edgar award for the best mystery of the year, City of Glass inaugurates an intriguing New York Trilogy of novels that The Washington Post Book World has classified as "post-existentialist private eye.. it's as if Kafka got hooked on the gumshoe game and penned his own ever-spiraling... version." Written with hallucinatory clarity, City of Glass combines Hitchcock-like suspense with dark humour.
The Ghosts and The Locked Room are the next two brilliant installments in The New York Trilogy by Paul Auster.
Each time he took a walk, he felt as though he were leaving himself behind, and by giving himself up to the movement of the streets, by reducing himself to a seeing eye, he was able to escape the obligation to think, and this, more than anything else, brought him a measure of peace, a salutary emptiness within...By wandering aimlessly, all places became equal and it no longer mattered where he was. On his best walks he was able to feel that he was nowhere. And this, finally was all he ever asked of things: to be nowhere.
He landed on his back amid a tangled pile of clothes. "Isabelle," Simon protested weakly, "do you really think this is going to make you feel any better?" "Trust me," Isabelle said, placing a hand on his chest, just over his unbeating heart. "I feel better already.
I was thinking about the first time I ever saw you," he said, "and how after that I couldn't forget you. I wanted to, but I couldn't stop myself. I forced Hodge to let me be the one who came to find you and bring you back to the Institue. And even back then, in that stupid coffee shop, when I saw you sitting on that couch with Simon, even then that felt wrong to me-- I should have been the one sitting with you. The one who made you laugh like that. I couldn't get rid of that feeling. That it should have been me. And the more I knew you, the more I felt it--it had never been like that for me before. I'd always wanted a girl and then gotten to know her and not wanted her anymore, but with you the feeling just got stronger and stronger until that night when you showed up at Renwick's and I knew.
As lurid battle scenes cut to the requisite shocking revelations and angst-drenched reunions, readers will almost hear the John Williams music swelling. Derivative though it may be, melodramatic emotional wallowing has never been so much fun.