This book was not my favorite, but it was okay. And that pretty much sums it up for me. Just okay. The premise - self-loathing ex-family man on the tail end of his life goes to isolate himself and live alone until he wastes away - is interesting. The characters have unique traits and redeeming qualities and are for the most part likable. Sometimes even worthy of sympathy. But, for me, this book never really picked up any steam. I enjoyed reading it, but the whole experience was mostly ho-hum. And I got the feeling that the book was written in much the same emotion.
The book is slightly reminiscent of a John Irving novel for its heavy basis on unusual characters and twisted family dramas, but the ironies that make Irving stories so compelling were too forced in this one. At every ironic twist in this story, Auster felt the need to take a sentence to remind the reader of what just happened. I took it as Auster giving himself congratulatory pats on the back after each clever twist. This I did not like and had a hard time looking over.
I think this book was written pretty far down the line in Auster's library. It was my first one of his novels, and I enjoyed it enough to give him a second chance. I have enough faith that his other books do away with the back-patting and let the story - not the author - paint the picture for you.
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