Saturday, April 4, 2015

Auster Read

"There is nothing more terrible, I learned, than having to face the objects of a dead man. Things are inert: they have meaning only in function of the life that makes use of them. When that life ends, the things change, even though they remain the same. They are there and yet not there: tangible ghosts, condemned to survive in a world they no longer belong to."

Paul Auster's first novel/autobiography/self-writing is perhaps his most beautiful book.

 The Invention of Solitude.

No comments: