Customer Reviews

Mr. Vertigo

5 star:		(12)
4 star:		(10)
3 star:		(6)
2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

Paul Auster is usually a steadfastly metaphysical writer, procuring post-modern ideas from his books with the regularity of an oil derrick. He's usually so preoccupied with the subtext of his works that the universes he creates come off as nondescript and inconsequential, and his prose remains, well, austere. The purpose of this preamble is to prepare you for the marked departure that is "Mr. Vertigo".

The universe here is quite definite: America in the early twentieth century. The prose is decidedly un-austere. Auster attempts to authentically capture the lingo and rhythms of the 1920s and 1930s. Either that, or he has created a grand parody of the way people spoke. Either way, the dialogue here is colourful, flavourful, but sometimes peculiar. Paul may have bit off more than he can chew. Examples such referring to St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Dizzy Dean as 'The Dizmeister' try and inject style into corners where style isn't needed. Was the name Dizzy not interesting enough? A minor quibble, that. (Dean also serves as an analogy-within-analogy; his meteoric rise and fall rivals that of our protagonist.) For the most part Auster has a grand command of the language he uses.

But all this does not deny the fact that this book is still a pretty powerful analogy. It is a picaresque, following the adventures of Walter Claireborne Rawley, a.k.a., Walt the Wonder Boy. Rescued from a scamp's life by the mysterious Master Yehudi, Walt is taught to fly. This curious skill -- the only piece of Auster-esque magic in a book that takes great pains to mimic its reality -- takes them on adventures all over the country. And herein lies the analogy. As Walt's powers and fame grows, so to do those of the young country on the verge of its own modern breakthroughs. Walt's adventures parallel the rise and fall of American culture in its infancy: from Vaudeville, to the Circus, to motion pictures; from a run in with the Ku Klux Klan, to an allegiance with Prohibition-era Chicago gangsters. Walt lives a kind of Forrest Gump-type existence. The cherry on the sundae is his love for and near ruin at the hands of that most American of pastimes, baseball. "Mr. Vertigo" is about America finding its wings, and Auster weaves its story with Walt's with near-seamless precision.

On a deeper level, it should not be overlooked that Master Yehudi is seen, several times, reading from a book of Spinoza. My elementary understanding of the man's philosophies, with thanks to Bertrand Russell, indicates that Auster intended these passing mentions to have some weight. The relationship between Master Yehudi and Walt is analogous to God's relationship to Man. This is best seen in the (evil) training Walt must undergo in order to lift-off. There are also references to bondage by outside sources, freedom stemming from self-determination, and happiness in the face of misfortune, that readers of both Spinoza and "Mr. Vertigo" will find familiar. And finally, we get a philosophical explanation of why the boy can fly: "Everything that happens is a manifestation of God's inscrutable nature, and it is logically impossible that events should be other than they are," says Spinoza. So, Master Yehudi says, "In order to lift you off the ground, we have to crack the heavens in two. We have to turn the whole bloody universe inside out." Familiarity with Spinoza is unnecessary (I only achieved mine in hindsight) but it might just enhance your experience with the novel.

Auster still manages to throw in some po-mo theorizing, this time on the nature of the book as a piece of fiction. To begin with, one of the characters, a poor black boy with designs on getting into university, is named Aesop. He writes a memoir (or is it a fable?) at one point, about which Walt says, "I laughed at some parts, I cried at others, and what more can a person want from a book than to feel the prick of such delights and sorrows?" Auster does his best to inject such sorrows and delights into his book. He also adds meta-fictional moments to the narrative: "If this were a movie, here's where the calendar pages would start flying off the wall," Walt says, just as his career is about to take off, around the time when that cinematic cliche was forming. And most tellingly of all, here's Walt (speaking words you'd expect Auster to believe) on his newly minted status: "I wasn't just a robot anymore, a wind-up baboon who did the same set of tricks for every show -- I was evolving into an artist, a true creator who performed as much for his own sake as for the sake of others." This book is Auster's most accessible work, and the above confirms that he knows exactly what he is doing.

If I've sounded like a book report at times, I apologize, but Auster's writing lends itself to this kind of reviewing. It is concerned with the ideas that surround its fictions, so why shouldn't I take a stab at cracking the codes those ideas are trying to hide? It brings me enjoyment to do so, and I suspect those of you reading this who also have a patient and curious mind will enjoy this book as well.

In his book "Mr. Vertigo" Auster once again reveals an incredible talent. A talent for painting a picture with the same clarity with which he writes. In a very real sense, this book is an alleghorical story of most all human life. To summarize his message, it seems he is telling us this:

1) You are born and childhood is mystical, magical, and all things seem possible.
2) You hit puberty, and life is turned a little upside down from what it was before.
3) You recover from the shock and go on and build a life.
4) Somewhere in the process of building this life, something happens and life itself again gets twisted on its head.
5) You rebuild your life.
6) You hope you retire in peace.

While the meaning of the alleghory is poignant, the manner that Auster paints the picture contains even more virtuosity. The story starts very whimsically, with a sense of magic. And then, as usual, there is clearly a lose of innocence, and an experiencing of multiple severe personal tragedies.

These tragedies ultimately lead his protagonist onto the next phases of his life, as they do with most people. And in each phase, he rebuilds that life. And often, because of factors that have nothing to do with his own actions or beliefs, that world is destroyed, and sometimes it is destroyed, because of his actions and beliefs, but each time, he rebuilds, he realizes that he is rebuilding a better life, than the one before.

Auster displays his usual incredible sensitivity and insight. He lays out the mental processes with great aplomb. And he takes the reader through an experience that in many ways, the reader is able to use as an analogy for their own life.

This book is one of Auster's classics and all Auster fans should not miss the opportunity to read it.

I am a little ashamed that I have not previously read any of Paul Auster's work. He is best known for Leviathan, but Mr. Vertigo has been sitting on my shelf for months, begging to be read.

I finally caved in, and discovered that I have been ignoring a fabulous book!

Fabulous? Explain, Please

Well first of all, the plot is a doozy. Our main character is Walt, soon to be known as "Walt the Wonder Boy". He is an orphan living with his aunt and uncle in Chicago. The year is 1927. He is a little rapscallion of a boy, panhandling and working the street the best way he knew how. He is coarse, uneducated, racist, and all around unpleasant.

One day, a mysterious figure named Master Yehudi walks into Walt's life. He forces him to make a choice, to follow him and learn how to fly, or to stay in Chicago where is really isn't wanted anyway. He promises that if he can't teach Walt how to fly in 2 years time, Walt can chop his head off. Now that's a deal.

So what is any self-respecting ragamuffin to do? You take a shot at the big time. Maybe we should ask Horatio Alger, just to be on the safe side. What could be more American?

Walt travels with Master Yehudi, into the great unknown.
The story progresses from there, You get the picture?

The characters of the book are remarkable in many aspects. Although Walt is such a repugnant character at first, this leaves him plenty of room to grow into a wonderful adult. Does he do this? Kind of.

Master Yehudi is a very multi-faceted individual. One one level he is very self serving. On yet another, he cares so much about the people around him, that it almost destroys him. He knows the meaning of sacrifice. He knows about love.

Ms. Witherspoon is Master Yehudi's romantic interest. She too is multilayered. Demure and proper lady, savvy businesswoman, wonderful friend. She adds more flavor to the piece.

This is a great book to relax with on a rainy day. It is entertaining at the forefront, but is also packed with adventures, developing emotions, eccentric characters, and so much more, but try it for yourself. Pick up a copy! Another book I need to recommend -- completely unrelated to Auster, but very much on my mind since I purchased a "used" copy off Amazon is "The Losers' Club: Complete Restored Edition," a funny, highly entertaining little novel I can't stop thinking about.

Magic emerges from Auster's writing in this wonderful picaresque tale of the rise to fame - and the subsequent decline - of Walt Rawley, "ragamuffin from honky-tonk row", unwanted by his charge, Uncle Slim. Walt's world is transformed beyond belief when a mysterious stranger, Master Yehudi, makes him an extraordinary offer: to teach him to fly.

Under the fierce discipline of Master Yehudi, Walt is subjected to a harsh regimen of rigorous training and gruelling endurance ordeals that test to the limit his strength of mind and body, each trial marking a progression towards his ultimate goal of mastering the art of levitation, walking on air. Technique perfected, Walt hits the road, on tour across America, with Master Yehudi organising a hectic schedule of performances. Walt dazzles audiences coast-to-coast with his amazing displays of "anti-gravitational feats" that, though implausible, are convincing in their description and detail - and are marvellously entertaining as a result! The secret of Walt's success is his mastery of the art of levitation, a mystifyihg technique Auster elucidates so smoothly and plausibly that we readily suspend our disbelief and slip easily into the world he creates. As Walt reaches the height of his powers, public acclaim turns him into a national celebrity, "Walt the Wonder Boy".

Walt's powerful narrative, recalling in old-age events that took place many decades before, takes us on a fast-paced trip through 1920's Americana - Lindbergh's solo flight, to cite an example. Walt's astounding breakthrough feat of levitating over a small pond in Kansas (at precisely the same time as Lindbergh's historic solo flight across the Atlantic in the Spirit of St. Louis) is a metaphor for American spirit and enterprise heralding an age where there are no limits to what may be achieved. ("It was as if the sky had suddenly opened itself up to man") On the road to stardom, Walt runs into trouble involving a Ku-Klux-Klan lynching and a kidnapping by sour, grouchy, mean and nasty Uncle Slim who, deeply resentful of Walt's astonishing success and rankled at the thought of Walt raking in the dough, hankers after what his twisted mind considers his by right - a slice of the rich pickings he thinks will accrue from Walt's new-found celebrity status.

The latter part of the novel marks a dramatic downward shift in Walt's fortunes, far removed from those heady, intoxicating days when he was "an unstoppable force" taking America by storm. Alone, moving deeper into old-age, Walt is rescued by the sudden idea of writing his story - this book. Go with the flow! Enjoy the trip! And the magic of Master Auster! Recommended.

The storyline of this novel reminds me of a possible Walt the Wonder Boy inspired aero-acrobatic feat itself - it climbs very high, very slowly, nearly divebombs - yet pulls itself up at the last minute for a perfect landing.

Caricatured Walt Rawley begins this novel as a sort of Holden Caulfield Lite, broken down over time by Master Yehudi, his mentor and father-figure. The reader really sees the progression in his character over the first two sections of the book, his brief (reading-time-wise) dip into madness (third section), and his final enlightenment (very short forth section). (For those who get bit disappointed in the middle, I think the last page wholly makes up for it.)

This book (of course as do other Auster books I've read) gives an excellent view into the trappings of an individual - internal/external conflicts, emotions, etc. I really think, however, that the clincher is the relationship between Walt and the master - definitely greater than the sum of its parts. The reader sees the relationship one-sidely through the experiences of Walt, but the effects on his personality are so pronounced.

Recommended.

Paul Auster is a wonderful writer. Many of his novels, however, feel more designed than told. They are more architectural than emotional; the product of a mind intent on reconfiguring the world into shapes, symbols and linguistic symmetry rather than a heart intent on sharing its joys and its despairs. This isn't always bad; the pseudo-noir of The New York Trilogy was both fabulous and addicting.

Auster is also an author who loves gimmicks but that can also be good. It didn't bother me at all that two characters in City of Glass were named Paul Auster, yet neither one was an autobiographical figure. Nor did I mind that every proper name in Ghosts seemed to be taken from the side of a Crayola crayon, e.g., Blue, White, etc. These are all a part of Auster's brilliant and unique perception of the world in which we live.

The Invention of Solitude, however, was a refreshing change. An earlier Auster who perhaps had not yet found his own unique voice, but who gave us a painfully and beautifully sincere look at fatherhood in all of its various nuances. The characters were real flesh-and-blood people and not linguistic contrivances as are the characters in The Music of Chance who comprise counterparts to various figurines in some eccentric collector's toybox.

With Moon Palace and Leviathan, Auster seemed to be veering off into the realm of the emotional at last. These were books one could connect with on an emotional level, and Leviathan, especially, was an easy book in which to lose oneself. Mr. Vertigo, though, marks a retreat from the more natural, emotional material Auster had begun to explore in Leviathan.

Mr. Vertigo is the life story of an urchin from the streets of 1920s St. Louis, who, through the most horrific processes imaginable, is taught to levitate by an eccentric Hungarian Jew, the Master Yehudi. After working out a routine, a performance of sorts, the two take their show on the road and the urchin becomes one of those oddities that Americans love to hold close to their hearts, an almost-national treasure. When he loses his ability to levitate at puberty, his life begins a metaphorical downward spiral, forming the basis for the plot of Mr. Vertigo.

This is an odd premise, to say the least, but odd premises have formed the basis of many great and enduring books. Just look at Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Jose Saramago, to name only two. In Mr. Vertigo, though, Auster seems to be seeking to undermine himself. The book is uniformly unpleasant with almost unrelieved scenes of extreme torture, verbal abuse and every bodily excretion possible called into service of the unfolding story. The problem is, none of these things ever proves to be really relevant to Auster's overall theme of Mr. Vertigo: the loss of innocence in American life and the ability to feel the presence of magic and dream dreams.

Mr. Vertigo encompasses a character who can fly named Walt Rawley. It doesn't take much of a stretch of the imagination to connect this character to Sir Walter Raleigh. And the fact that Walt is from St. Louis is also significant. St. Louis just happens to be the home of the Cardinals and cardinals can and do fly. And Charles Lindbergh flew the Spirit of St. Louis, not to mention the fact that the Cardinals most famous player was a man with the nickname Dizzy Dean (a variation of Mr. Vertigo?). The problem is, the only reaction all these connections evoke in us is: So what?

Two marvelous characters, also disciples of the Master, are introduced, developed, then brutally removed from the story. Their loss, however, is merely glossed over and not given the attention it deserves. Unfortunately, they lose emotional resonance. Auster shows a similar lack of structural cohesion as Walt attempts to establish the parallel between his own life and Dizzy Dean's baseball career. Although this goes on for just about ten pages, just in time to prepare us for a pivotal meeting, we have to wonder: If Dean has always meant so much to Walt, then why is he just telling us about it a mere fifty pages from the novel's end?

The chapter-by-chapter references to Walt's burgeoning sexuality also seem more than pointless, if not downright repugnant. Auster does make it clear later in the book that many levitators lose their abilities with the onset of sexual desire but by then we don't really care and Walt seems to be a boy teetering on the brink of true perversion.

Walt does, however, have some genuinely admirable qualities. He is possessed of an unadulterated enthusiasm that can be infectious. The first-person narrative is fast-paced and never drags. It is full of street-smart cliches that really do work even though, at times, Walt can sound as if he is riding the crest of an adrenalin-filled high: "I was an unstoppable force back then, a corner to beat all corners, and I was riding the express train with a one-way ticket to Fat City." This is a style unlike Auster's previous works, and, although it takes a few pages to get used to it and to take it seriously, given the general mess Auster makes of his theme and ideas, the prose is kind of refreshing. Walt, at least, is enjoying this ride. The least we can do, I guess, is take his word that it was a good one.

Ranks with City of Glass as one of his best books. But unlike The NY Trilogy and most of his other books in which the plots figure around characters going mad and getting obssessive, Vertigo is lighthearted and bittersweet. It's more like a fairy tale (a good fairy tale).

This was the first book I read from Paul Auster, and I've couldn't put it down. Auster writes in a way the keep the reader glued to the book. In this book he tells the story about this young who learns from the Master to fly. It may sound a bit weird, but in Auster univers is completly normal. After I read this book, I read all of his other book, and this is not his best, but it's very much worht the time and money. And if you're into Auster try reading som of his other works.

"Mr. Vertigo" is sweet. It's a strong writer giving us a high brow action, romance novel and it works. It will sweep you up, make you think and really feel for its characters. He dips into youth in a very believable way that brings you back to your own.

This was the book that kicked off a Paul Auster obsession for me, and still remains to me to be the best (side by side with Music of Chance). I was surprised to find so many people, most of whom are Auster fans, disappointed. This book is the culmination of all his previous attempts. I feel sorry for those readers that did not connect to it for whatever reason, because it hit me like a ton of bricks.