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Paul AusterA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Auster employs the detective genre to interrogate the role of the writer and the relationship between the literary project and the world. In all three stories, the writer and the detective overlap, reinforcing Auster’s purpose of deconstructing detective fiction and exploring the nature of writing. Each novel treats a case as a situation that resists solution and interpretation. The writer as a detective is a man trying to make sense of the world and find meaning by observing human behavior. In City of Glass, Auster explicitly connects the writer to the detective:
The detective is the one who looks, who listens, who moves through this morass of objects and events in search of the thought, the idea that will pull all these things together and make sense of them. In effect, the writer and the detective are interchangeable (8).
This idea permeates all three novels. In City of Glass, Daniel Quinn is a writer of mystery novels who decides to impersonate a detective due to a random event—a wrong phone call. His impulse as a writer is to investigate the Stillman case and understand the real story behind it. His pleasure in impersonating another man reflects the idea of the writer’s identification with fictional characters, and he approaches the case like a writer. He records every detail about the case in the red notebook and even writes while following Stillman. The text emphasizes that investigation, whether through writing or detecting, rests on the assumption that “human behavior [can] be understood” (67). However, the intertextual references to Don Quixote in Quinn’s conversation with Paul Auster raise questions about the writer’s ability to interpret human behavior. Nonetheless, writing remains Quinn’s only solace to the very end. Even when answers seem impossible, Quinn continues writing in the red notebook in a desperate attempt to find meaning.
Ghosts, a highly symbolic story, reverses the writer/detective trope. Blue is a detective whose role shifts when he undertakes White’s case. Blue becomes entangled into the literary project by isolating himself and watching Black read and write. As a detective, he attempts to understand the writer’s purpose and unlock the mysteries of literature. In the process, he ventures into storytelling himself. As the case makes no sense to Blue, he devises stories and writes them in a notebook to help him think of possible interpretations. The text highlights the importance of the inner self as the center of literary exploration. Blue’s newfound solitude leads him to introspection, realizing that “the world inside him” is “unexplored” and “dark” (145). Blue disguises himself to approach Black, like an undercover spy and simultaneously like a writer approaching a character. Blue becomes obsessed with understanding Black, and his desire to read Black’s book signifies his own attempt to comprehend the human condition, reality, and the self.
In The Locked Room, the writer’s role dominates. The narrator writes articles but aspires to write fiction. He transforms into a detective when he attempts to write Fanshawe’s biography. Fanshawe’s character has always fascinated the narrator, and now he becomes his literary subject. The narrator begins an investigation, examining Fanshawe’s letters, traveling to Paris, searching for clues and facts about his life: “I was a detective after all, and my job was to hunt for clues” (283). Again, the narrator’s quest is to understand another person and discover the reason for his disappearance. In the end, the narrator’s only clue is a red notebook, and Fanshawe’s writing is the only way he can access the man.
The protagonists of the trilogy embark on a quest to make meaning of mysterious and absurd events that upend their lives. Language and literature are at the center of the stories as a means of understanding reality. By interrogating language’s ability to capture reality, Auster explores the possibilities of language and literature to reflect meaning in the world. City of Glass, Stillman’s book, which is part of Quinn’s investigation, addresses the topic of language. Auster creates layers of narrative through Stillman’s argument, which interrogates the possibilities of language in a fragmented world. Stillman says:
For our words no longer correspond to the world. When things were whole, we felt confident that our words could express them. But little by little, these things have broken apart, shattered, collapsed into chaos (77).
Quinn himself uses words to help him understand Stillman, but despite his efforts, the man remains a mystery. No matter how accurately he captures every detail and fact about the case, he simultaneously feels its elusiveness as Stillman’s actions and intentions resist interpretation. Reading back over his own notes in the red notebook, he finds them meaningless. When he discovers that Stillman’s itinerary through the city spells out letters, Quinn “arrives in a neverland of fragments, a place of wordless things and thingless words” (72). Language and the focus on facts prove insufficient for understanding the absurdity of reality. The Stillmans suddenly disappear, leaving Quinn without an explanation for what has happened.
In Ghosts, Auster relates writing to moving through reality: “Such is the way of the world: one step at a time, one word and then the next” (138). Blue uses written reports to communicate facts about the case to White. However, the available clues are not enough for him to make sense of the real story behind Black. Blue writes a “truthful account” of the events but the meaning of the case remains “beyond him.” Blue concludes that “words do not necessarily work” (149), and reality remains incomprehensible. Reflecting on the case, Blue even considers that it is an illusion: “It is not possible for such a man as Black to exist” (172).
The Locked Room solidifies the trilogy’s argument about the relationship between language and reality. The narrator proclaims that reality is a “sum of contingent facts […], of random events that divulge nothing but their own lack of purpose” (219); his own life is irrevocably changed by random and mysterious events whose “purpose” he never learns. The project of Fanshawe’s biography represents his attempt to understand reality through writing, but language proves insufficient and “the essential thing resists telling” (249). Like the other protagonists, he gathers facts and clues but can’t arrange them in a meaningful way, leading him to conclude that “lives make no sense” (255). Ultimately, the narrator abandons the idea of writing about Fanshawe and focuses on finding the real person. However, language, in the form of the red notebook, is his only way of approaching the character. The relationship between language and reality proves fraught but nevertheless necessary.
Auster deconstructs and undermines the conventions of detective fiction by leaving the mysteries unresolved and the stories open-ended. The nature and possibilities of storytelling are central to the narrative. The trilogy includes several intertextual references that illustrate the author’s preoccupation with stories. The text portrays storytelling as the attempt to find coherence in a fragmented reality. The stories’ protagonists desire to learn the real story behind the mysterious events that unsettle their lives. Through writing, they endeavor to extract meaning from reality. In City of Glass, Quinn’s red notebook runs out of pages but the story remains unfinished, as his writing cannot provide answers, but only invite the next story.
Ghosts interrogates the possibilities of literature as Blue grapples with the reading and writing process. Blue feels “condemned to sit in a room and go on reading a book for the rest of his life” while watching Black read and write (171). Blue is suspicious of storytelling, convinced that it makes people “[see] the world only through words, [live] only though the lives of others” (171-2). Nevertheless, he resorts to storytelling in an attempt to make sense of the mysterious case, first writing his own stories, then attempting to read Black’s story. His desire for stories persists even when they fail to shed light on reality.
The narrator in The Locked Room uses writing as an “escape” from reality’s absurdity. Storytelling becomes a means of finding meaning and purpose in life; it represents “a break in the darkness” (237). When the narrator decides to write Fanshawe’s biography, he hopes the project will give his own life meaning; in this way, storytelling becomes a quest for the inner self. The narrator is fully conscious of the way in which people use stories to understand themselves: “We imagine the real story inside the words, […] we substitute ourselves for the person in the story, pretending that we can understand him because we understand ourselves” (249). However, the endless production of stories indicates that the inner self remains inaccessible, a mystery. Ultimately, the narrator abandons Fanshawe’s biography and seeks only to understand the man. In this he also fails. Even though he finds “lucidity” in Fanshawe’s written story, the mystery remains unsolved, “open, unfinished, to be started again” (313). Words may fail, but the insatiable desire for stories remains. The text concludes that ultimately, stories are “not in the words” but in the “struggle” (294) to tell them. Storytelling is part of the ongoing struggle to make sense of existence.
By Paul Auster