Nice in style, with some sentences to reread and quote. Memoir of Auster's life, written when he was 64, captures his childhood (even before he can remember), his women, his parents, travels and (21) homes he lived in.Written completely in second person, making it more interesting, it is part philosophy changed through years, part memoirs of things past. Its my first book by this author, and while I enjoyed reading it, the life itself is nothing special - especially when taking us through his homes and departments ;) When one considers who is America's greatest living author, now that Updike has reboarded the spaceship and Roth has retired, Paul Auster flies beneath most people's radar, but, he is without doubt one of America's greats, certainly from an inventive viewpoint. Winter Journal is his second memoir, 30 years after The Invention Of Solitude, which was a severely critical examination of a strained relationship between emotionally volatile son and a stubborn father. This volume, now Auster is feeling lucky having reached 64. The deaths of and unresolved issues with his parents focuses his mind on his mortality and his current physicality – he inhabits a body that is beginning to mark time towards his decline. He addresses his body as “you”, and so the reader is included in the self-centred and self-examining musings of a 64-year-old man, with vignettes from his life, childhood to date.He counts himself lucky to be in remarkably good shape despite some youthful scrapes and sporting accidents, a cigarillo dependency - I smoke because I like to cough is one quotation he quotes -, a slight dependency on alcohol, similar to many of his readers, and a recent family car crash. “Yes, you drink too much and you smoke too much, you have lost teeth without bothering to replace them, your diet does not conform to the precepts of contemporary nutritional wisdom,” he admits, “but if you shun most vegetables it is simply because you do not like them, and you find it difficult, if not impossible, to eat what you do not like.” These vices connect Auster to the reader and humanises him, as does the fact he is a real New Yorker living in a brown stone in Brooklyn. Quote from one review:"But Auster is an author famed for devising complex literary structures that deliver moments of bedazzlement. There is a casual tone to the revelations that marks a change in his narrative intent. The inventive capacities have paled, instead Auster focuses on domestic relationships."I wouldn't see the above as a negative. I read this diary-like autobio in one sitting, over wine which should please Auster, and found that it gave me a picture of the writer of the books of his that I have read. He is no different, in his failings past and present to the rest of us. Then again, I am a fan. I obviously enjoyed the book and recommend it.
What do You think about Winterlogboek (2011)?
Beautiful book. I loved this memoir written in second-person to himself. Auster looks back at his life during the winter when he turned 64. This is going to be one of my favorite memoirs ever.From the book:At fifty-seven, I felt old. Now, at seventy-four, I feel much younger than I did then.Sixty-six, and because you always felt certain that he would live to a ripe old age, there was never any urgency about clearing the fog that had always hovered between you, and therefore, as the fact of his sudden, unexpected death finally sank in, you were left with a feeling of unfinished business, the hollow frustration of words not spoken, of opportunities missed forever.and it saddens you that when your sixty-six-year-old father died in his girlfriend’s arms, you were still struggling on all fronts, still eating the dirt of failure.This has been the story of your life. Whenever you come to a fork in the road, your body breaks down, for your body has always known what your mind doesn’t know, and however it chooses to break down, whether with mononucleosis or gastritis or panic attacks, your body has always borne the brunt of your fears and inner battles, taking the blows your mind cannot or will not stand up to.When you were young, you were not aware of any of this.paraphrase a line from one of George Oppen’s poems, some of the most beautiful places in the world are on your wife’s body.Are the sexual energies of youth so powerful that the mere presence of another body can serve as an inducement to sex? You would never do such a thing now, would not even dare to think of doing such a thing—but then again, you are no longer young.You have entered the winter of your life.
—Chanelle
The journey from a child to an adult, musing on how his body has changed, creates a tour de force, a memoir form that is very readable and had me transfixed and energized to do my own writing. It is right, that after 50 one reflects on one's childhood. I discovered many nodes of connection with Auster, and our birthdays are a few days apart, and we are the same age. He talks about the passions of a small boy and then a teen and today, but spiraling in and out, from where he is now. The book was written as a memoir, in part, because he confesses he threw out a novel that was not working.
—Hellie
