The Book of Illusions
In The Book Of Illusions, Paul Auster weaves a complex and moving story that pulls the reader in and doesn’t let go until the final page. The book follows David Zimmer, a professor in Vermont, as his life is turned upside down and propels him on an entirely different path, entering the world of the mysterious Hector Mann.
After the death of his wife and two sons in a plane crash, he becomes a recluse, rarely leaving house and wasting his days away drinking, watching television and wandering through the empty rooms. One fateful night while slumped in front of the TV, he stumbles on a film clip starring the late Mann, a comedian in the silent film era who disappeared without a trace or explanation in 1929, leaving behind a promising career.
Zimmer laughs for the first time in months, and in that moment, the career of Mann becomes an obsession. He travels the globe, drugging himself for plane rides, to view Mann’s 12 films, which had been recently sent to random film institutes all over the world with no explanation or name attached. He begins to take notes on the films and eventually writes a book, and a strange letter with a New Mexico postmark arrives in his mailbox one day — the note says that Mann has read the book and would like to meet him.
Doubtful that Mann is alive and living in New Mexico, Zimmer writes a skeptical reply and doesn’t give it another thought, until a strange woman arrives on his doorstep one day, and he finds himself falling in love and flying to the southwest.
The novel’s final 30 pages sprint to the conclusion, drawing the reader along to the sudden and shocking ending that takes one’s breath away.
The vivid storytelling and attention to detail create not one but two entirely different worlds — the world of David Zimmer and the films of Hector Mann. Near the end of the book one of Mann’s films is described in incredibly specific language, literally creating a mental film for the reader and showing that Auster may well have an ability for film — shots, lighting and cinematography are all detailed.
Characters in Illusions seem to jump off the page — the distinct dress and mannerisms of Mann and the psychological complexities of Zimmer come alive through Auster’s consistent and well paced writing, uncomplicated but extremely expressive.
What is most striking about this novel, however, is Auster’s narrative style. The book starts off suddenly, grabbing your attention and before you know it, you’re completely immersed. The story proceeds logically but not chronologically, as Auster finds a way to connect seemingly random events without losing the reader’s interest.
Reading Illusions is like being on a roller coaster in the dark — it’s exciting and fast-paced, and you’re never sure what’s going to happen next. A page-turner that is engrossing and very thought provoking, you’ll find yourself trying to decide what the real Illusion.
–Ashley McIntosh
Contributing Writer
Bingo under the Crucifix
Laurie Foos’ fourth novel, Bingo under the Crucifix, attempts through a bizarre plot to explore family relationships and find humor in dysfunction, but fails miserably on both counts.
Bingo tells the story of the Taft family, who gathers together to cope with a dire problem: Irv, the youngest brother with a Spiderman obsession, has physically reverted to an infant. However, Irv is 36 years old and married with a child on the way.
The novel focuses around Chloe, Irv’s younger sister, as she and the rest of the Taft family care for the baby with the “almost man-sized head” found on their front porch, who they believe is Irv. The family tries various methods, from bringing in a priest to throwing a Spiderman party, to turn Irv back into a man. Meanwhile, Chloe becomes preoccupied with the plight of the town’s homecoming queen, who gives birth to a baby in her school’s locker-room, runs off to receive her crown and returns to find her baby missing.
From the beginning, Foos tries too hard to be funny. While every family has its quirks, the Taft family has too many. Foos plays up their dysfunctions, introducing one over-exaggerated character after another. Chloe’s husband Nathan is not just a party-planner with an affinity for writing; he constantly scribbles on index cards, taking notes on every event that happens during the day and providing everyone with lines to say. Aunt Chickie is not only obese, but she also keeps huge wads of tissue tucked into her bra strap to combat her perspiration problem. Every character, with the exception of Chloe, has an embellished personality.
“It’s a goddamn freak show,” remarks Chloe’s father Big E, a champion strongman from the ’70s. It sure is. It’s a preposterous, annoying freak show.
Bingo’s most glaring flaw is its lack of credibility. No matter how strange or unconventional the Taft family may appear, they seem capable of reason and deciphering a situation. But, for the majority of the novel, they remain convinced Irv has shrunk into an infant. Even Chloe, the most normal character, believes the baby is her adult brother.
When a newspaper runs an illustration of the homecoming queen’s missing baby who looks uncannily like Irv, Chloe wonders “how she could have been so short-sighted, how it had been so possible to be so easily duped.” For one fleeting minute, she believes Irv is the missing baby. However, Nathan quickly convinces her “Irv never had the wherewithal to pull off such a stunt,” as Chloe nods and composes herself, reaffirmed the baby in the bassinet is Irv.
Foos tries to write a humorous novel, but the main themes of her novel are serious topics, ranging from teenage pregnancy and child abandonment, to incest and mental illness. Foos focuses too much on attempts at humor, rather than providing information that eludes the reader. More history about Chloe’s strained relationship with her mother and the background of Irv’s mental instability would clarify much of the confusion about the characters and possibly evoke some sympathy for them.
–Heather Eng
Contributing Writer