Collected Prose

"Auster really does possess the want of the enchanter."—The New York Review of Books

 

"[Auster] will be remembered as one of the great writers of our time."—San Francisco Chronicle

 

"The literary essays and prefaces in this collection are elegant and accessible . . . Much of what is offered here displays Auster's warmth, democratic instincts, and human concerns."—Hilary Mantel, Daily Telegraph (London)

 

"Auster's Collected Prose provides a fascinating long-exposure snapshot of a writer's private and abiding obsessions and touchstones as he oscillates between the worlds of his life and art."—The Times (London)

 

"Absorbing . . . [Auster's] informed enthusiasms, especially for European modernism and aspects of the avant-garde, make him a passionate, intelligent, and stimulating commentator. He writes acutely about the dilemmas which inform serious artistic decisions. These hospitable, generous pieces make one want to go immediately to the writers he discusses."—Robert Potts, The Guardian (London)

 

"[Paul Auster] has assembled his youthful [nonfiction] in one stout, handsome silo . . . The pieces [in Collected Prose] deserve this mid-career dais. Like fellow Brooklynites Jonathan Lethem and Colson Whitehead, Mr. Auster is a fanatic, but of an earlier generation. So while Mr. Lethem and Mr. Whitehead are specialists in comic books and television, Mr. Auster is head over heels for symbolist French poetry, New Wave cinema, and surrealist theatre. Whereas another writer might try to breathe such work to life with gusts of pretension, Mr. Auster approaches it slyly, through his own preoccupations. Mallarmé's poetry comes alive through a story about the birth of his son; poet Laura Riding is defined by her long disappearance . . . Seeing the pieces together, you realize they are the work that allowed Mr. Auster to see himself as a Writer with a capital 'W.' It's rare these days for a novelist to admit to this desire without mocking it, which explains why Mr. Auster has remained the drug of choice for readers who once would have chosen Vonnegut. He read, he wrote, and he hungered. Collected Prose would feel like a tombstone to that time if [Auster] didn't do these things so fervently still."—John Freeman, Dallas Morning News