The first story here (City of Glass) really knocked me out. The narrator’s identity dissolves into depersonalization (or psychosis) as he bores deeper and deeper into an obsessive investigation.

Auster’s trick here is in having his characters self-consciously perform thriller/detective tropes. He’s able to engage in these tropes with a post-modern distance while grounding the narrative in a recognizable form. This allows him a sense of momentum. Of course, the narration eventually unspools itself from the form. But even with these formal breaks, Auster’s prose is incredibly accessible.

It does feel like a case of diminishing returns when this is restaged in Ghosts and The Locked Room. I can’t quite decide if the interplay between the stories is fun or obnoxious; Auster has a tendency to over-explain. The connections to other literary works (Don Quixote, Henry David Thoreau) are spelled out for the reader in long digressions. Likewise with the explicit consideration of framing in all three stories. The text feels a little too eager to explain or justify itself. 

And yet! I really enjoy reading him.