Self-indulging. Obscenely long. Repetitive.
And yet.
Beautiful. (Not overly) ambitious. Surprisingly readable.
After investing the classic £2.50 at Fopp, this book was used to stop any door in the flat (even the heaviest ones) from slamming. Then I was left with only this and some other long-unread tomes, and decided to give it a chance.
Sure, 4321 is a stylstic exercise if there ever was one, but because Auster is such a superb writer, and because he has so much to write about, the countless pages actually flow quite seamlessly. The reader actually grows to like every single one of the Archies, and actually fall in love with every single version of Amy.
If this was anybody without Auster's skills (or without the life-experience that he can draw upon for the autobiographical passages) this book would be absolutely unreadable. Or, actually, it just wouldn't get published. But it did, and hopefully enough readers have decided to give it a chance rather than using it as a door-stopper.
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