The Many Faces of Paul Auster's Home
Much of your fiction takes place in our very own Brooklyn. In fact, the city has become more of an individual character than a mere location (this is especially true in The Brooklyn Follies and Oracle Night, among other works). How does the real-life Brooklyn compare to your fictional Brooklyn? How has the city evolved as a character in your work over the years?
From the spectral Brooklyn of 1947 presented in Ghosts to the raucous, fractious Brooklyn presented in the films Smoke and Blue in the Face to the somber Brooklyn of 1982 presented in Oracle Night to the multi-layered Brooklyn of 2000 presented in The Brooklyn Follies, the borough I call home has been a shifting, unstable projection of the minds of my characters. On the one hand, it's "real-life Brooklyn," to use your term, but it is also internalized, fictionalized, a place of reverie and mental struggle.
In recent years, the landscape of Brooklyn has rapidly changed. Does it still feel like home despite its transformation?
People keep saying that Brooklyn has changed dramatically over the years, and perhaps this is true, but in the neighborhood where I live (Park Slope), things have been astonishingly the same for the past 20 years or so. More people with money, perhaps, but the same rough-and-tumble life in the streets during the day. I can't say that I have ever felt entirely at home anywhere, but for reasons I can't fully explain, living in Brooklyn seems to suit me.
What are some of your earliest memories of home? How have they influenced your writing?
The enduring power of childhood memories, particularly memories of my childhood home, came crashing down on me many years ago, the first time I read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. About halfway into the novel, I realized that all the action was taking place in my parents' living room. A perfect example of how memory and the imagination are linked.
Much of your fiction takes place in our very own Brooklyn. In fact, the city has become more of an individual character than a mere location (this is especially true in The Brooklyn Follies and Oracle Night, among other works). How does the real-life Brooklyn compare to your fictional Brooklyn? How has the city evolved as a character in your work over the years?
From the spectral Brooklyn of 1947 presented in Ghosts to the raucous, fractious Brooklyn presented in the films Smoke and Blue in the Face to the somber Brooklyn of 1982 presented in Oracle Night to the multi-layered Brooklyn of 2000 presented in The Brooklyn Follies, the borough I call home has been a shifting, unstable projection of the minds of my characters. On the one hand, it's "real-life Brooklyn," to use your term, but it is also internalized, fictionalized, a place of reverie and mental struggle.
In recent years, the landscape of Brooklyn has rapidly changed. Does it still feel like home despite its transformation?
People keep saying that Brooklyn has changed dramatically over the years, and perhaps this is true, but in the neighborhood where I live (Park Slope), things have been astonishingly the same for the past 20 years or so. More people with money, perhaps, but the same rough-and-tumble life in the streets during the day. I can't say that I have ever felt entirely at home anywhere, but for reasons I can't fully explain, living in Brooklyn seems to suit me.
What are some of your earliest memories of home? How have they influenced your writing?
The enduring power of childhood memories, particularly memories of my childhood home, came crashing down on me many years ago, the first time I read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. About halfway into the novel, I realized that all the action was taking place in my parents' living room. A perfect example of how memory and the imagination are linked.