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The Music of Chance
This novel follows Jim Nashe who, after squandering an unexpected inheritance, picks up a young gambler named Jack Pozzi hoping to con two millionaires. But when their plans backfire, Jim and Jack are indentured by their elusive marks and are forced to build a meaningless wall with bricks gathered from ruins of an Irish castle. Time passes, their debts mount, and anger builds as the two struggle to dig themselves out of their Kafkaesque serfdom.
217 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1990
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6245 people want to read
About the author
Paul Auster
231 books12.2k followersPaul Auster was the bestselling author of 4 3 2 1, Bloodbath Nation, Baumgartner, The Book of Illusions, and The New York Trilogy, among many other works. In 2006 he was awarded the Prince of Asturias Prize for Literature. Among his other honors are the Prix Médicis Étranger for Leviathan, the Independent Spirit Award for the screenplay of Smoke, and the Premio Napoli for Sunset Park. In 2012, he was the first recipient of the NYC Literary Honors in the category of fiction. He was also a finalist for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award (The Book of Illusions), the PEN/Faulkner Award (The Music of Chance), the Edgar Award (City of Glass), and the Man Booker Prize (4 3 2 1). Auster was a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters and a Commandeur de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres. His work has been translated into more than forty languages. He died at age seventy-seven in 2024.
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February 19, 2026
SO DA DOVE VIENE QUESTA MUSICA
Mandy Patinkin nel ruolo di Nashe e James Spader in quello di Pozzi, il giocatore di poker professionista.
Non il primo libro scritto da Auster, ma il suo primo che ho letto, quello che me l’ha fatto conoscere e frequentare da lettore per diversi anni.
Mi mise dentro una voglia fortissima di continuare a leggerlo, e per questo inseguii a lungo la cosiddetta trilogia di New York (‘Città di vetro’, ‘Fantasmi’ e ‘La stanza chiusa’) che all’epoca era fuori catalogo (Rizzoli).
Poi, fu finalmente ristampata da Einaudi.
La partita di poker con i due milionari interpretati da Charles Durning e Joel Grey.
Credo sia proprio su questi primi titoli che Auster ha costruito da noi il suo culto, la sua schiera di fedelissimi affascinati da quella miscela inquietante di caso e destino che è il suo tema di fondo, nonché dalla chiara eleganza dello stile.
I film probabilmente hanno incrementato il culto (almeno ‘Smoke’, ‘Blue in the Face, ‘Lulu on the Bridge’).
A tutt’oggi, è il suo libro che preferisco e, forse, davvero il suo migliore.
Sento ancora acuto il senso d'angoscia di Jim Nashe, intrappolato in un incredibile meccanismo assurdo molto più potente di lui, l’incubo che attraversa, le riflessioni sulla libertà, su come si possa perderla per un ‘caso’, il vicolo cieco da cui non si esce...
Metafisico come sa essere Auster.
La storia vede protagonista Jim Nashe, un vigile del fuoco in crisi economica, motivo per cui la moglie lo lascia. Rimasto solo, eredita dal padre un’inaspettata cifra piuttosto consistente. Si licenzia, acquista una Saab 900 e inizia a viaggiare per gli Stati Uniti, senza meta e senza programmi, un vero vagabondo, come nella migliore tradizione a stelle-e-strisce. Viaggia per viaggiare, per fuggire, per superare la crisi matrimoniale, alla ricerca di cosa neppure lui sa bene.
Durante il viaggio, incontra per ‘caso’ un giocatore professionista, Jack Pozzi, che lo convince a partecipare ad un torneo di poker organizzato da due milionari eccentrici e misantropi, Flower e Stone, nella loro tenuta in Pennsylvania. Sono ricchi e sembrano i classici polli da spennare (hanno vinto ventisette milioni di dollari alla lotteria), vivono completamente appartati e si dedicano a hobby molto particolari: uno fa collezione di oggetti storici e l’altro dedica tutto il suo tempo ad un plastico, la Città del Mondo.
La costruzione del muro sotto gli occhi dell’implacabile sorvegliante e carceriere M. Emmet Walsh.
La partita a poker si svolge quindi in questa casa dall'atmosfera cupa e surreale. Ben presto i due milionari si dimostrano meno tonti di quanto Nashe e Pozzi credessero, e la posta in gioco diventa la libertà (!).
I due giovani perdono la partita e per saldare il loro debito dovranno costruire un muro con le pietre di un vecchio castello irlandese che i due ricconi hanno comprato, fatto smantellare e trasportato.
Ben presto l'impresa si dimostra metafisica e terrificante, e segnerà per sempre l'esistenza di Nashe e Pozzi, fino all'inquietante epilogo.
Un tentativo di fuga di Nashe. Il film ha lo stesso titolo del romanzo, è diretto da Philip Haas, e uscì nel 1993.
Lo scopo finale di molti personaggi di Paul Auster sembra essere l’annullamento di sé, la circoscrizione del proprio io in uno spazio sociale sempre più ristretto fino al limite estremo della sparizione, della dissoluzione. È una strategia del suicidio, della morte civile: come se il non essere, che non è necessariamente la morte, sia sempre preferibile all’essere. Come ci insegna bene tanta narrativa americana, da ‘Bartleby lo scrivano’ di Herman Melville a ‘Wakefiel’ di Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Guido Almansi.
Mi misi a cercare anche il film che ne era stato tratto, con la stessa passione che mi fece inseguire la trilogia. Mi procurai una cassetta VHS. Ma il film si rivelò deludente. Però Paul Auster faceva un'apparizione, un passante lungo la strada, la classica comparsata.
Sufficiente per rafforzare il culto che all’epoca anch’io avevo per lui.
Mandy Patinkin nel ruolo di Nashe e James Spader in quello di Pozzi, il giocatore di poker professionista.
Non il primo libro scritto da Auster, ma il suo primo che ho letto, quello che me l’ha fatto conoscere e frequentare da lettore per diversi anni.
Mi mise dentro una voglia fortissima di continuare a leggerlo, e per questo inseguii a lungo la cosiddetta trilogia di New York (‘Città di vetro’, ‘Fantasmi’ e ‘La stanza chiusa’) che all’epoca era fuori catalogo (Rizzoli).
Poi, fu finalmente ristampata da Einaudi.
La partita di poker con i due milionari interpretati da Charles Durning e Joel Grey.
Credo sia proprio su questi primi titoli che Auster ha costruito da noi il suo culto, la sua schiera di fedelissimi affascinati da quella miscela inquietante di caso e destino che è il suo tema di fondo, nonché dalla chiara eleganza dello stile.
I film probabilmente hanno incrementato il culto (almeno ‘Smoke’, ‘Blue in the Face, ‘Lulu on the Bridge’).
A tutt’oggi, è il suo libro che preferisco e, forse, davvero il suo migliore.
Sento ancora acuto il senso d'angoscia di Jim Nashe, intrappolato in un incredibile meccanismo assurdo molto più potente di lui, l’incubo che attraversa, le riflessioni sulla libertà, su come si possa perderla per un ‘caso’, il vicolo cieco da cui non si esce...
Metafisico come sa essere Auster.
La storia vede protagonista Jim Nashe, un vigile del fuoco in crisi economica, motivo per cui la moglie lo lascia. Rimasto solo, eredita dal padre un’inaspettata cifra piuttosto consistente. Si licenzia, acquista una Saab 900 e inizia a viaggiare per gli Stati Uniti, senza meta e senza programmi, un vero vagabondo, come nella migliore tradizione a stelle-e-strisce. Viaggia per viaggiare, per fuggire, per superare la crisi matrimoniale, alla ricerca di cosa neppure lui sa bene.
Durante il viaggio, incontra per ‘caso’ un giocatore professionista, Jack Pozzi, che lo convince a partecipare ad un torneo di poker organizzato da due milionari eccentrici e misantropi, Flower e Stone, nella loro tenuta in Pennsylvania. Sono ricchi e sembrano i classici polli da spennare (hanno vinto ventisette milioni di dollari alla lotteria), vivono completamente appartati e si dedicano a hobby molto particolari: uno fa collezione di oggetti storici e l’altro dedica tutto il suo tempo ad un plastico, la Città del Mondo.
La costruzione del muro sotto gli occhi dell’implacabile sorvegliante e carceriere M. Emmet Walsh.
La partita a poker si svolge quindi in questa casa dall'atmosfera cupa e surreale. Ben presto i due milionari si dimostrano meno tonti di quanto Nashe e Pozzi credessero, e la posta in gioco diventa la libertà (!).
I due giovani perdono la partita e per saldare il loro debito dovranno costruire un muro con le pietre di un vecchio castello irlandese che i due ricconi hanno comprato, fatto smantellare e trasportato.
Ben presto l'impresa si dimostra metafisica e terrificante, e segnerà per sempre l'esistenza di Nashe e Pozzi, fino all'inquietante epilogo.
Un tentativo di fuga di Nashe. Il film ha lo stesso titolo del romanzo, è diretto da Philip Haas, e uscì nel 1993.
Lo scopo finale di molti personaggi di Paul Auster sembra essere l’annullamento di sé, la circoscrizione del proprio io in uno spazio sociale sempre più ristretto fino al limite estremo della sparizione, della dissoluzione. È una strategia del suicidio, della morte civile: come se il non essere, che non è necessariamente la morte, sia sempre preferibile all’essere. Come ci insegna bene tanta narrativa americana, da ‘Bartleby lo scrivano’ di Herman Melville a ‘Wakefiel’ di Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Guido Almansi.
Mi misi a cercare anche il film che ne era stato tratto, con la stessa passione che mi fece inseguire la trilogia. Mi procurai una cassetta VHS. Ma il film si rivelò deludente. Però Paul Auster faceva un'apparizione, un passante lungo la strada, la classica comparsata.
Sufficiente per rafforzare il culto che all’epoca anch’io avevo per lui.
February 9, 2012
This book is essentially about some men building a wall. Admittedly it is portrayed as the most sinister episode of landscape gardening that there ever was, but nonetheless it is still, inherently about two men building a wall.
How do you make landscape gardening sinister? Here is the recipe:
Take one sticky situation.
Add two desperate chancers
Mix in two mendacious and sinister old men (soft on the outside but hard as nails on the inside for the desired texture)
Sprinkle on some money
Shake things up thoroughly
Pound with one large but outwardly amiable henchman until tender and bloody
Leave overnight to absorb the consequences and stew in own juices
Pop into a metal vessel then turn up the heat.
I’m not going to say anymore aside from the fact that this absurdist novel by Paul Auster is, of all the novels he has written, my very own favourite.
How do you make landscape gardening sinister? Here is the recipe:
Take one sticky situation.
Add two desperate chancers
Mix in two mendacious and sinister old men (soft on the outside but hard as nails on the inside for the desired texture)
Sprinkle on some money
Shake things up thoroughly
Pound with one large but outwardly amiable henchman until tender and bloody
Leave overnight to absorb the consequences and stew in own juices
Pop into a metal vessel then turn up the heat.
I’m not going to say anymore aside from the fact that this absurdist novel by Paul Auster is, of all the novels he has written, my very own favourite.
September 2, 2021
Somewhere in the vicinity of twenty-five years ago, the Powerball lottery in my state was higher than it had ever been. My friend D. eagerly bought up tickets, one after another, in hopes of increasing her odds.
I had never played the lottery and D. was certain that beginner's luck would give me a distinct advantage over others (as though no one else would be playing for the first time). I argued with her that I did not want to waste my money.
"Jenna, you will not be wasting it!" she insisted. "Somebody has to win so why not you?"
No, I insisted right back, somebody does not have to win. After all, the reason it's so high is because somebody has not won for a long time.
What I thought of as sound logic did not put a dent in D's optimism. She thought I was too negative and if I just thought positively enough, that, along with my beginner's luck, would help me win.
Fine, I grumbled, pulling out a dollar. I knew she would not relent until I had a ticket in hand.
I can't remember but on the day of the drawing I probably felt a twinge of excitement.
It would have quickly dwindled as, one after the other, the numbers called did not line up with the numbers on my ticket. Not one of them was correct.
I might have felt a bit of disappointment, but it wasn't anywhere near as great as my friend's, with her certainty that one of us would win. After all, my beginner's luck would rub off on her and, with her hundreds of dollars of tickets, she had (she thought) a strong chance of winning.
While D was crestfallen, I was pissed. A whole dollar wasted, I grumbled. Yeh, I know, I know. It was just a dollar. I'm
Since everyone loves a happy ending and since I cannot tell you that the universe suddenly heaped millions of dollars upon me simply because my strong positive thoughts attracted untold riches, I will tell you that I never again wasted so much as a penny on gambling.
The same cannot be said of my friend who probably to this day forks over the greenbacks in hopes of finally hitting it big. Not having wasted another dollar is for me a happy ending.... though perhaps it would have been happier if I
The feeling of waste has remained with me and I cannot understand why anyone would gamble again after losing anything, especially when they lose a lot.
But many do, and in Paul Auster's engaging novel The Music of Chance, Jack Pozzi and Jim Nashe don't know when to call it quits.
That might not sound very exciting, but I could not get enough of this book. Paul Auster is one of those exceptional writers who can start a movie playing in your mind with just a few words.
From the first page I was hooked.
I could not get enough of Nashe and Pozzi. They amused me, they frustrated me, they made me want to reach into the Kindle and shake them. I felt fatigued as day after day they heaped stones one upon another.
This is only the second Auster novel I've read but it won't be the last. Two out of two are pretty good odds that the rest of his books are amazing as well. I'll take my chances with them.
June 12, 2024
Jim Nashe is a frivolous Boston fireman who needs music as a life crutch. His wife abandons him just before his father dies, leaving him money that he squanders while driving around America. Near desperation, Jim meets a bitter young itinerant gambler, Jack ("Jackpot") Pozzi. He lures him into a losing poker game with two shady recluses, Flower and Stone, on their Pennsylvania estate. Nashe and Pozzi must retire their debt by building a stone wall on the premises: what this Herculean labor does to them is the novel's leitmotif. It is an exciting story, but some may object that the journalistic prose merely tells the story instead of showing it. I don't know if I necessarily enjoyed this book (or any Paul Auster book at the moment, for that matter).
The enjoyment comes from the questions I ask myself after I've put the book down. It is not an enjoyable reading experience but rather a contemplative one. In that regard, it is a highly successful piece of art. The story appears to be relatively simple: One man goes driving. He meets another man on the road. The two of them encounter some eccentric millionaires. The four men play poker. Then, two men build a wall. It isn't brilliant now that I look back on it. But the story's not the thing (it never is in an Auster book). So don't look for closure, and don't expect easy answers. It's all just an excuse for some finely written meditations on the nature of fate and the restrictions of freedom. Auster's writing style is enigmatic. It has a faux-coldness, appearing distant and reserved at first glance. Closer inspection, however, reveals much humanity and passion in his prose. I've always had suspicions that his surname is an ingeniously calculated pseudonym, for any austerity in writing is sincere and ironic. That's a neat trick to pull off and, to my mind, his greatest strength as a writer. In this example from his oeuvre, he gets the balance just right.
The enjoyment comes from the questions I ask myself after I've put the book down. It is not an enjoyable reading experience but rather a contemplative one. In that regard, it is a highly successful piece of art. The story appears to be relatively simple: One man goes driving. He meets another man on the road. The two of them encounter some eccentric millionaires. The four men play poker. Then, two men build a wall. It isn't brilliant now that I look back on it. But the story's not the thing (it never is in an Auster book). So don't look for closure, and don't expect easy answers. It's all just an excuse for some finely written meditations on the nature of fate and the restrictions of freedom. Auster's writing style is enigmatic. It has a faux-coldness, appearing distant and reserved at first glance. Closer inspection, however, reveals much humanity and passion in his prose. I've always had suspicions that his surname is an ingeniously calculated pseudonym, for any austerity in writing is sincere and ironic. That's a neat trick to pull off and, to my mind, his greatest strength as a writer. In this example from his oeuvre, he gets the balance just right.
September 28, 2016
What is a human fate? Is it a preset pattern decided by some divine providence from above? Or is it just a hellish roulette?
“It was one of those random, accidental encounters that seem to materialize out of thin air – a twig that breaks off in the wind and suddenly lands at your feet. Had it occurred at any other moment, it is doubtful that Nashe would have opened his mouth. But because he had already given up, because he figured there was nothing to lose anymore, he saw the stranger as a reprieve, as a last chance to do something for himself before it was too late.”
A chance… There is always a chance. And the wheel of fortune keep turning…
“His money was gone, his car was gone, his life was in a shambles. If nothing else, perhaps those fifty days would give him a chance to take stock, to sit still for the first time in over a year and ponder his next move. It was almost a relief to have the decision taken out of his hands, to know that he had finally stopped running.”
The gamblers had put on their lucky card too much and lost. Desolation, hopelessness and the infernal toil – those were their award and they literally found themselves in one of the circles of hell with only a chance of redemption…
We gamble with chance and chance plays with our fates.
“It was one of those random, accidental encounters that seem to materialize out of thin air – a twig that breaks off in the wind and suddenly lands at your feet. Had it occurred at any other moment, it is doubtful that Nashe would have opened his mouth. But because he had already given up, because he figured there was nothing to lose anymore, he saw the stranger as a reprieve, as a last chance to do something for himself before it was too late.”
A chance… There is always a chance. And the wheel of fortune keep turning…
“His money was gone, his car was gone, his life was in a shambles. If nothing else, perhaps those fifty days would give him a chance to take stock, to sit still for the first time in over a year and ponder his next move. It was almost a relief to have the decision taken out of his hands, to know that he had finally stopped running.”
The gamblers had put on their lucky card too much and lost. Desolation, hopelessness and the infernal toil – those were their award and they literally found themselves in one of the circles of hell with only a chance of redemption…
We gamble with chance and chance plays with our fates.
May 14, 2019
[4.5] The Music of Chance ticks with impending doom. Or maybe not. I kept hoping for relief. Auster makes the routine act of building a stone wall (for months) freighted with meaning and suspense. I have so many questions! I am just floored by this book. Brilliant and unnerving.
Read
April 23, 2018A macabre fable about fate and chance and randomness and destiny.Plenty of philosophical reference and dilemmas sprinkled throughout the tale.Throw in some Greek mythology also.Lots of the classical Auster themes and characterisations are here.Enjoyed the reference to Rousseaus target practice in a forest,I can relate to that.
Not for everybody but I really enjoyed it.
Discovered afterwards that it was made into a movie.Apart from his most recent novel I think I have now completed the entire Auster canon.One of the best living American writers in my view.
Not for everybody but I really enjoyed it.
Discovered afterwards that it was made into a movie.Apart from his most recent novel I think I have now completed the entire Auster canon.One of the best living American writers in my view.
April 10, 2021
El azar es lo que tiene… Escribí Las aristas de la muerte por instinto y con cero pretensiones. Unos años después me he apuntado a mi primer taller de escritura. Lo imparte Javier Peña (Infelices) en Casa Blackie y nos ha recomendado leer varios libros porque basará algunas de sus clases en ellos. Uno es La música del azar.
Gracias a la decisión tomada para intentar mejorar, he conocido a Paul Auster e independientemente de lo que suceda en el taller (tiene muy buena pinta) siento que ya he ganado porque tanto el libro como su autor han sido unos maravillosos descubrimientos.
Im-pre-de-ci-ble. Con Paul Auster me he sentido como una bolsa de plástico en un día de viento. Ahora por aquí. Ahora por allá. Sin grandísimos giros, pero siempre en sus manos.
Si construyese una maqueta de mi casa y en el salón hubiera una pequeña figura a escala escribiendo esta reseña, comenzaría así:
El azar es lo que tiene…
Gracias a la decisión tomada para intentar mejorar, he conocido a Paul Auster e independientemente de lo que suceda en el taller (tiene muy buena pinta) siento que ya he ganado porque tanto el libro como su autor han sido unos maravillosos descubrimientos.
Im-pre-de-ci-ble. Con Paul Auster me he sentido como una bolsa de plástico en un día de viento. Ahora por aquí. Ahora por allá. Sin grandísimos giros, pero siempre en sus manos.
Si construyese una maqueta de mi casa y en el salón hubiera una pequeña figura a escala escribiendo esta reseña, comenzaría así:
El azar es lo que tiene…
February 25, 2017
Another strange but absorbing read from one of America's finest, its a little on the short side but is instantly recognisable as Auster. Featuring oddball eccentric characters and elements of The Brothers Grimm and Samuel Beckett, its quite a straight forward story basically about a couple of guys losing a game of poker then building a wall as a way to clear the debt, its told in a way that makes it feel like a surreal fable. There is also a shocking ending I didn't see coming. For fans it's a worthy read, although not his best.
July 4, 2020
So you're driving your car, a Saab as it turns out. You've already driven it eighty-thousand miles or so crisscrossing the country, which is what recently un-moored male characters do in U.S. fiction. Except it isn't your car anymore. You've lost it bankrolling another drifter in a card game. You've been forced - indentured, really - to build a wall to pay off the rest of the debt.
But you're finally free, or you will be tomorrow, and two men who have monitored your exertions have taken you out to celebrate and are now letting you drive the Saab, what once was yours, home from a bar.
You turn the radio to a classical station and you hear something familiar, an andante from some eighteenth century string quartet. Can't quite place the composer though. Probably Mozart or Haydn. Hell, maybe it was one of the quartets Mozart dedicated to Haydn. Or maybe it was the other way around.
At a certain point, the music of both men seemed to touch, and it was no longer possible to tell them apart. And yet, Haydn had lived to a ripe old age, honored with commissions and court appointments and every advantage the world of that time could offer. And Mozart had died young and poor, and his body had been thrown into a common grave.
Such is the random nature of things, the music of chance.
You have sped up, dangerously so, and the men with you, men you hate, yell at you to slow down. The older man next to you reaches over and turns off the music. As if some other can turn off your music. He'll look up to see the headlights.
----- ----- ----- ----- -----
In 1999, David Mitchell wrote Ghostwritten and included a character who was in a musical collective called The Music of Chance, named "after a novel by that New York bloke."
This is the novel by that New York bloke.
But you're finally free, or you will be tomorrow, and two men who have monitored your exertions have taken you out to celebrate and are now letting you drive the Saab, what once was yours, home from a bar.
You turn the radio to a classical station and you hear something familiar, an andante from some eighteenth century string quartet. Can't quite place the composer though. Probably Mozart or Haydn. Hell, maybe it was one of the quartets Mozart dedicated to Haydn. Or maybe it was the other way around.
At a certain point, the music of both men seemed to touch, and it was no longer possible to tell them apart. And yet, Haydn had lived to a ripe old age, honored with commissions and court appointments and every advantage the world of that time could offer. And Mozart had died young and poor, and his body had been thrown into a common grave.
Such is the random nature of things, the music of chance.
You have sped up, dangerously so, and the men with you, men you hate, yell at you to slow down. The older man next to you reaches over and turns off the music. As if some other can turn off your music. He'll look up to see the headlights.
----- ----- ----- ----- -----
In 1999, David Mitchell wrote Ghostwritten and included a character who was in a musical collective called The Music of Chance, named "after a novel by that New York bloke."
This is the novel by that New York bloke.
February 18, 2009
This book left with so much thinking to do and had so many philosophical metaphors that I ended up pushing it on my friends, fully thinking that I had their best interest in mind. But when I actually, thought about it I realized that what I really wanted was someone to discuss the book with. I wanted to talk about the characters and the metaphor and what it was all really trying to say.
Yeah, this is a fabulous book. It deals with existentialism, freedom and captivity, chance and coincidence and obsession. Most of all I feel this book deals with how one should live one's life. Whether to except things as they come or to struggle for what you want. Man, there's so much to this book. I'm just going to stop here, but don't miss this one.
Yeah, this is a fabulous book. It deals with existentialism, freedom and captivity, chance and coincidence and obsession. Most of all I feel this book deals with how one should live one's life. Whether to except things as they come or to struggle for what you want. Man, there's so much to this book. I'm just going to stop here, but don't miss this one.
July 27, 2023
Nabokov once said that he hated music, all music including classical, because it had no structure. That is precisely what beguiles Paul Auster in THE MUSIC OF CHANCE; his hymn to randomness and chaos. Gambling, not music, is the metaphor for nothing less than the history of the universe. Two young drifters wandering the countryside of Pennsylvania come across a huge mansion inhabited only by two old eccentric rich men. (Immediate question: who runs and cares for the mansion?) Invited to play cards for hours by the two old geezers, the youngest of the pair heads for the bathroom and on the way notices an exact replica of the mansion in one room, including a miniature reproduction of the two old men, which he unwisely touches with a finger, and in doing so re-arranges the universe! (Yes, this same device pops up in Edward Albee's play, TINY ALICE.) When the game restarts, our wearied youth proceed to lose everything, including their car, and are reduced to debt peons for the rich pair, tasked with re-building a medieval wall around the mansion that, of course, can never be finished since that would grant them their freedom. Paul Auster, much-beloved in France and late to come to the attention of his fellow Americans, has constructed the perfect fable of meaningless and cyclical existence at every level of reality.
October 6, 2020
CRITIQUE:
A Law of Nature
"The Music of Chance" is a very tightly plotted novel. However, at the same time, it's planned within a strict framework of risk, chance, fate and probability.
As the poker player Jack Pozzi says,
A Kind of Awe
For Nashe, his partner, "The insanity of that risk filled him with a kind of awe."
It's like speculating in the realm of superstition or religion:
Something Improbable
The question is: what happens when you don't come out on top, when something - chance, fate - overrides the law of nature? What happens when your opponents, Stone and Flower, enjoy even better luck?
It’s just as likely that chance will make something improbable occur. And so it does.
In cards, for Flower and Stone, an almost win "made us believe that anything was possible." Even a loss was reason for optimism. For these gamblers, prime numbers were "the magic combination, the key to the gates of heaven...Good luck has continued to come our way. No matter what we do, everything seems to turn out right."
Stone "spends his days constructing a model of some bizarre, totalitarian world" he calls the "City of the World". It's a world where everything is in order, and Stone is in control. It contains a miniature jail, though the whole city seems to be a metaphor for a prison or a Nazi concentration camp:
A Big, Beautiful Wall
Pozzi loses the game against Stone and Flower. In order to make good his loss, Pozzi and Nashe must build a wall, a wailing wall, across a meadow out of ten thousand stones they bought in Ireland and shipped back home to Pennsylvania:
The Mysterious Barricades
Pozzi is resentful: "The whole world is run by assholes," he says. Nashe soon sympathises with him:
They've encountered "mysterious barricades" in the music of chance, which form obstacles in their path towards earthly, existential harmony.
WORSE THAN VERSE:
The Chance of Romance
[Apologies to Lou Reed]
Don't you dare tell us that romance
Results from God's will or just chance.
You know I hate that mystic shit
Even if some think it's legit.
I'd rather spend my time in France
Learning to dance a modern dance.
If it's love that really matters
Don't let it all end in tatters.
SOUNDTRACK:
A Law of Nature
"The Music of Chance" is a very tightly plotted novel. However, at the same time, it's planned within a strict framework of risk, chance, fate and probability.
As the poker player Jack Pozzi says,
"Nine times out of ten, I'm going to come out on top. It's like a law of nature...
"Once your luck starts to roll, there's not a damn thing that can stop it. It's like the whole world suddenly falls into place...you sit there watching yourself perform miracles. It doesn't really have anything to do with you anymore."
A Kind of Awe
For Nashe, his partner, "The insanity of that risk filled him with a kind of awe."
It's like speculating in the realm of superstition or religion:
"We had everything in harmony. We’d come to the point where everything was turning into music for us, and then you have to go upstairs and smash all the instruments. You tampered with the universe, my friend, and once a man does that, he's got to pay the price."
Something Improbable
The question is: what happens when you don't come out on top, when something - chance, fate - overrides the law of nature? What happens when your opponents, Stone and Flower, enjoy even better luck?
It’s just as likely that chance will make something improbable occur. And so it does.
In cards, for Flower and Stone, an almost win "made us believe that anything was possible." Even a loss was reason for optimism. For these gamblers, prime numbers were "the magic combination, the key to the gates of heaven...Good luck has continued to come our way. No matter what we do, everything seems to turn out right."
Stone "spends his days constructing a model of some bizarre, totalitarian world" he calls the "City of the World". It's a world where everything is in order, and Stone is in control. It contains a miniature jail, though the whole city seems to be a metaphor for a prison or a Nazi concentration camp:
"A threat of punishment seemed to hang in the air – as if this were a city at war with itself, struggling to mend its ways before the prophets came to announce the arrival of a murderous, avenging God."
A Big, Beautiful Wall
Pozzi loses the game against Stone and Flower. In order to make good his loss, Pozzi and Nashe must build a wall, a wailing wall, across a meadow out of ten thousand stones they bought in Ireland and shipped back home to Pennsylvania:
"As long as they kept on working, the work was going to make them free." ("Arbeit Macht Frei.")
The Mysterious Barricades
Pozzi is resentful: "The whole world is run by assholes," he says. Nashe soon sympathises with him:
"He was more cut off from the world than ever before, and there were times when he could feel something collapsing inside him, as if the ground he stood on were gradually giving way, crumbling under the pressure of his loneliness."
They've encountered "mysterious barricades" in the music of chance, which form obstacles in their path towards earthly, existential harmony.
WORSE THAN VERSE:
The Chance of Romance
[Apologies to Lou Reed]
Don't you dare tell us that romance
Results from God's will or just chance.
You know I hate that mystic shit
Even if some think it's legit.
I'd rather spend my time in France
Learning to dance a modern dance.
If it's love that really matters
Don't let it all end in tatters.
SOUNDTRACK:
January 6, 2025
Ich kannte bislang Paul Auster nur anhand von biographischen Büchern (Winterjournal und Erfindung der Einsamkeit), die mir gut gefielen. Die Musik des Zufalls war somit die erste fiktionale Erzählung. Ich hatte eine Geschichte nach der traditionelle amerikanischen Erzählweise erwartet und wurde zu Beginn auch gut bedient, wenn wir Nashe folgen, der seine Erbschaft auf den Highways der USA sinnlos verfährt, weil ihm nichts besseres einfällt. Dann trifft er auf den jungen Pokerspieler Pozzi und das Buch wird immer unwirklicher. Das ist eine wilde Mixtur aus Kafka (Machtlosigkeit gegenüber der Obrigkeit) und Camus (Sinnhaftigkeit der Existenz durch eintönige Arbeit). Während mir diese Vorbilder eigentlich zusagen, verlor ich bei Austers wilden Ritt durch die zufallsgetriebene Geschichte des ungleichen Paars immer weiter die Lust am Weiterlesen. Letztlich ist es mir auch egal, ob eine philosophische Aussage hinter der Geschichte steckt. Ich fand sie zu konstruiert und zunehmend langweilig.
June 12, 2024
Let's begin with a quote from Rainer Maria Rilke: "If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; instead blame yourself for failing to call forth its riches." Paul Auster's The Music of Chance seems a novel steeped in defeatism. Or, perhaps the sometimes random nature of life might be considered the theme of Auster's tale.
Jim Nashe, a divorced Boston fireman, down on his luck, receives a small inheritance from a father he'd not heard from in ages, quits his job at the firehouse to travel rather aimlessly around the U.S. in search of some form of redefinition, or until the money runs out. En route, he briefly renews a relationship with a former girlfriend in San Francisco, until she drops him.
There is more at play here than two aimless drifters in search of a quick buck but in my opinion, not much more, as they bet & lose what remains of Jim Nashe's inheritance + Jim's new Saab & even some money they did not have.
In order to resolve the debt, they are forced to build a meaningless wall on the extensive property the two lottery-winners have bought, using stones from an old British castle that had fallen into ruins, which were transported to the estate of the suddenly wealthy pair on a whim after their trip to England.
Something might have been made of what seems like a Sisyphean struggle with stones, watched over by a caretaker-watchman named Murks, who carries a gun to enforce their indemnity.
However, even when the initial debt is paid, they end up further in arrears, being assessed for food, tools, lodging in a small shed-like mobile home & even the cost of a hooker for Jack Pozzi. They seem to persevere, though when Pozzi attempts an escape, he is severely beaten. Ultimately, there appears no end to their wall construction work & little promise of eventual freedom.
Jim Nashe has a daughter in Minnesota + a sister & family who care for him, causing me to feel troubled by the ending assigned to The Music of Chance, which I won't reveal.
While I've heard good things about the quality of Auster's work, the structure of this novel seemed to cave in on itself, much like a poorly-built wall. Something more memorable, perhaps even mythical or allegorical might have been made of this by celebrated author Paul Auster, but the novel's descriptive nature seems overwhelmed by a dreary lack of resolution and a nihilistic, rather arbitrary ending.
And, while I am not entirely dependent on the book's title, there is a form of music called Aleatoric, (from the Latin word for dice), or "chance music", where some element of the composition is left to chance &/or to the determination of the performers, to some degree employed fairly recently by John Cage & Karlheinz Stockhausen. Perhaps, I longed for a plot resembling this form of music.
*Within my review are 2 photo images of the late author Paul Auster, who died on April 30th, 2024, the 2nd image with former Israeli Prime Minister Shimon Peres & author Salman Rushdie.
Jim Nashe, a divorced Boston fireman, down on his luck, receives a small inheritance from a father he'd not heard from in ages, quits his job at the firehouse to travel rather aimlessly around the U.S. in search of some form of redefinition, or until the money runs out. En route, he briefly renews a relationship with a former girlfriend in San Francisco, until she drops him.
Nashe almost began to welcome pain, to feel ennobled by it. He felt like a man who had finally had the courage to put a bullet through his head--but in this case it was not death, it was life, it was the explosion that triggers the birth of new worlds. He just walked out, climbed into his car & was gone.Rather quixotically, he picks up a hitchhiker, a would-be, high-stakes gambler named Jack Pozzi, who had just been beaten up in the midst of a poker game. They throw in their lot together & go in pursuit of two oddly paired men, Flower & Stone, who have recently gained a fortune by winning a lottery sweepstakes via a ticket they shared. Word has it that the lottery winners like to gamble & seem ready to be fleeced.
As long as he was driving, he carried no burdens, was unencumbered by even the slightest particle of his former life. Memories no longer seemed to bring the old anguish. Perhaps the endless tapes of Bach, Mozart & Verdi that he listened to while sitting behind the wheel had something to do with that, as if the sounds were somehow emanating from him, drenching the landscape, turning the visible world into a reflection of his own thoughts, the music carrying him into a realm of weightlessness.
There is more at play here than two aimless drifters in search of a quick buck but in my opinion, not much more, as they bet & lose what remains of Jim Nashe's inheritance + Jim's new Saab & even some money they did not have.
In order to resolve the debt, they are forced to build a meaningless wall on the extensive property the two lottery-winners have bought, using stones from an old British castle that had fallen into ruins, which were transported to the estate of the suddenly wealthy pair on a whim after their trip to England.
Something might have been made of what seems like a Sisyphean struggle with stones, watched over by a caretaker-watchman named Murks, who carries a gun to enforce their indemnity.
However, even when the initial debt is paid, they end up further in arrears, being assessed for food, tools, lodging in a small shed-like mobile home & even the cost of a hooker for Jack Pozzi. They seem to persevere, though when Pozzi attempts an escape, he is severely beaten. Ultimately, there appears no end to their wall construction work & little promise of eventual freedom.
Jim Nashe has a daughter in Minnesota + a sister & family who care for him, causing me to feel troubled by the ending assigned to The Music of Chance, which I won't reveal.
While I've heard good things about the quality of Auster's work, the structure of this novel seemed to cave in on itself, much like a poorly-built wall. Something more memorable, perhaps even mythical or allegorical might have been made of this by celebrated author Paul Auster, but the novel's descriptive nature seems overwhelmed by a dreary lack of resolution and a nihilistic, rather arbitrary ending.
And, while I am not entirely dependent on the book's title, there is a form of music called Aleatoric, (from the Latin word for dice), or "chance music", where some element of the composition is left to chance &/or to the determination of the performers, to some degree employed fairly recently by John Cage & Karlheinz Stockhausen. Perhaps, I longed for a plot resembling this form of music.
*Within my review are 2 photo images of the late author Paul Auster, who died on April 30th, 2024, the 2nd image with former Israeli Prime Minister Shimon Peres & author Salman Rushdie.
Read
December 4, 2015I think that I had an absolute brainstorm in reading this book. Do I love it? Do I hate it? I really don't know but frustration kept me continuing my reading marathon and this to me is sheer insanity. Imagine a man, Jim Nashe, who has inherited a small fortune. He wasn't unhappy working in the Fire Department but he was separated from his wife and this is where the insanity begins.
With this serendipitous money, Nashe buys a new car and goes on a mad driving trip through the States. He is a man demented and driven but what to say and then he meets Jack Pozzi. Well I suddenly stopped reading and looked around and thought why on earth am I reading this very unusual book (I've actually never come across this writing style before which is somewhat hypnotic like a drug) and well I abandoned it, surprisingly enough rather regrettably...But I keep on thinking about it nevertheless...
What to do? My alter ego says finish it but...
With this serendipitous money, Nashe buys a new car and goes on a mad driving trip through the States. He is a man demented and driven but what to say and then he meets Jack Pozzi. Well I suddenly stopped reading and looked around and thought why on earth am I reading this very unusual book (I've actually never come across this writing style before which is somewhat hypnotic like a drug) and well I abandoned it, surprisingly enough rather regrettably...But I keep on thinking about it nevertheless...
What to do? My alter ego says finish it but...
December 19, 2020
Well that was weird! I have so many unanswered questions. This is a strangely compelling read about fate and chance encounters, loneliness, truth, trust, hard physical work, eccentricity but I want to know more. What did happen to Jack? Why were Flower and Stone so evil? The ending does seem inevitable, there’s a sense of foreboding the whole way through.
August 11, 2012
Another enmeshing, enticing, and enigmatic novel from Paul Auster, and one that features yet again a gent infected with the peregrine spirit, unconcerned about such typically weighty matters as steady employment, pursuing a family life, establishing communal roots, etc. This time the narrator, one Jim Nashe—a man who, upon receiving an unexpected inheritance, opts to abandon his young family in order to aimlessly meander about the young country in the purpose of blowing the entirety of his stack—hooks up with an inveterate gambler, Jack Pozzi, and is persuaded to back him with the remains of his windfall in a poker play against a pair of old duffers whose didactic skills are held to be no match for this Hustler et ami. Alas, fate has played cruelly with these chumps who have dared to test her moods, and Jack and Jim shortly find themselves paying off their sizable gambling loss by means of labouring to build a stone wall across the breadth of the estate of the triumphant, and modestly triumphal, geezers. This is not merely a debt of money, but one of human honour, and there are strict observances and reparations that are expected ere it will be satisfactorily discharged. The loser duo aren't long in discovering the backbreaking requirements of the wall's construction, one that, paired with their room and board expenses, have stretched the debt's termination point unto a despairingly distant horizon. Pozzi chafes under the bonds of indenturement, while Nashe finds himself seeing deep channels carved in this lesson in fiduciary and existential mindfulness. When the tensions mount to the breaking point, not the least observant of readers will be surprised to discover that bad things are going to happen.
An absorbing and thoughtful read, if a touch elliptic whenever Auster slips too sartorially into the seamed passions of his postmodern graces. This microcosmic morality play examines the macrocosm that is the capitalist system—one whose constructs have so often been compared to that of a thinly-veiled slavery, and whose memes of debt, with all of the numerical explosiveness of compounded interest and back-burnered principal, chew-up temporally-alloted life in massive, grinding bites—as well as the costs and obligations that are paid-out and amassed in the pursuit of a freedom that can so often prove anything but; not least in the moral morass one can founder within when the question concerns the shirking of one's duties, the breaking of one's word, the strict observance of the law with no recourse to human feeling, pity, or generosity—whether one does indeed spoil the child when the rod has been spared—and how victories won and freedoms gained can pale in the chanced stopwatch measuring of an unmoved world. It was many years ago that I read this, and after I had seen the movie with James Spader and Mandy Patinkin, and I'm not certain that I could honestly state which one I preferred more. It was also my second Auster, In the Country of Last Things having been the gateway for me into his own sparse and abstracted and, post The Book of Illusions , overplayed and underperforming literary theatre.
An absorbing and thoughtful read, if a touch elliptic whenever Auster slips too sartorially into the seamed passions of his postmodern graces. This microcosmic morality play examines the macrocosm that is the capitalist system—one whose constructs have so often been compared to that of a thinly-veiled slavery, and whose memes of debt, with all of the numerical explosiveness of compounded interest and back-burnered principal, chew-up temporally-alloted life in massive, grinding bites—as well as the costs and obligations that are paid-out and amassed in the pursuit of a freedom that can so often prove anything but; not least in the moral morass one can founder within when the question concerns the shirking of one's duties, the breaking of one's word, the strict observance of the law with no recourse to human feeling, pity, or generosity—whether one does indeed spoil the child when the rod has been spared—and how victories won and freedoms gained can pale in the chanced stopwatch measuring of an unmoved world. It was many years ago that I read this, and after I had seen the movie with James Spader and Mandy Patinkin, and I'm not certain that I could honestly state which one I preferred more. It was also my second Auster, In the Country of Last Things having been the gateway for me into his own sparse and abstracted and, post The Book of Illusions , overplayed and underperforming literary theatre.
January 22, 2026
Hubo una vez —no hace tanto— en que pensé que una mala racha se arreglaba insistiendo un poco más. Como si el mundo, al verme perseverar, fuera a corregir el error. No lo hizo. Auster tampoco cree en eso. La música del azar parte justo de ahí: del momento en que confundes libertad con inercia y sigues adelante no porque quieras, sino porque ya has empezado.
Jim Nashe hereda dinero, abandona su vida anterior y se lanza a la carretera sin un plan claro, con la vaga fe de quien cree que moverse ya es una forma de decidir. A partir de ahí, el azar —ese dios sin rostro que Auster maneja con una frialdad casi obscena— empieza a afinar su instrumento. Un encuentro fortuito, una partida de cartas, una decisión tomada sin convicción real… y el descenso queda activado. Pero ojo, Auster no nos presenta un azar impersonal: cada golpe, cada revés, está siempre en tensión con lo que los personajes eligen —o dejan de elegir—; la libertad parece una ilusión, pero es también un peso que se mide en cada decisión que deciden ignorar. No hay épica. No hay rebelión heroica. Solo una cadena de actos pequeños que, sumados, se convierten en condena.
Auster escribe esta novela como una fábula moderna y cruel. Todo es aparentemente sencillo, casi esquemático, pero esa desnudez es justo lo que inquieta. La prosa —esto es Auster, no Nabokov— es como siempre: limpia, contenida, sin barroquismos innecesarios, como si el autor se negara a ofrecer consuelo estilístico. El narrador observa, registra, deja que los hechos se encadenen sin subrayados morales. Y en ese silencio es donde el lector empieza a sentirse incómodo.
Porque lo verdaderamente perturbador no es la arbitrariedad del castigo, sino la docilidad con la que los personajes lo aceptan. La música del azar habla de obediencia, de humillación, de cómo un hombre puede acostumbrarse a lo intolerable si lo llaman “regla”, “deuda” o “acuerdo”. El famoso muro que atraviesa la novela no es solo una construcción física: es la materialización de una lógica absurda que nadie cuestiona con suficiente fuerza, un Sísifo moderno: trabajo interminable, repetición absurda, una lucha que no promete victoria, solo resistencia frente a lo inevitable. Kafka asoma por aquí, sí, pero sin laberintos burocráticos: Auster prefiere el espacio abierto, la carretera, el campo, para demostrar que el encierro más eficaz no necesita paredes visibles.
Hay algo profundamente masculino —y profundamente triste— en la forma en que Nashe se relaciona con su destino. Orgullo herido, resistencia muda, incapacidad para pedir ayuda, para decir “hasta aquí”. Auster no lo juzga, pero tampoco lo absuelve. Lo observa como se observa a alguien que sigue cavando aun cuando ya no hay salida. Y eso duele porque resulta reconocible.
Y luego está Jack Pozzi, el contrapunto, alguien que todavía cree que se puede negociar con la suerte, que el ingenio y la audacia pueden inclinar la balanza: un personaje que funciona como espejo y contraste de Nashe. Mientras uno se deja arrastrar por la deriva y la obediencia silenciosa, el otro se mantiene firme en su confianza, en su capacidad de maniobrar, en la ilusión de que todavía existe margen de acción. Esa tensión entre ambos no solo define la dinámica de la novela, sino que nos recuerda que la humillación y la fortuna no son universales: dependen de cómo decides enfrentarlas.
Porque esa tensión entre aceptar o resistir, entre obedecer o maniobrar, no es solo de los personajes: si alguna vez seguiste adelante solo para no admitir que te habías equivocado, sabes exactamente de qué va esta novela.
Conviene advertirlo: no es una lectura amable. La novela no ofrece redención, ni aprendizaje reconfortante, ni justicia poética. El azar aquí no es caprichoso, es indiferente. Y la libertad, esa palabra tan bonita, aparece como una ilusión frágil que se rompe en cuanto el mundo decide no colaborar. Pero Auster no cierra puertas: no hace falta ser fatalista para entrar en esta historia, basta con aceptar que a veces las cosas no “significan” nada más allá de lo que hacen contigo.
La música del azar es una de esas novelas que no gritan, que no levantan la voz y, sin embargo, se quedan resonando mucho tiempo después. Terminas de leerla con una sensación incómoda, casi física, como si alguien hubiera tocado una melodía que preferías no reconocer… pero que, de algún modo, ya conocías.
Y sí, se lleva mis cinco estrellas. Pero aviso: nadie sale indemne. La novela no perdona, no consuela, y aun así cada giro, cada obstáculo absurdo, tiene un peso que no se olvida. Auster no te entretiene; te aprieta. Y eso, en mi opinión, es justo lo que la hace valer cada estrella.
Porque cuando el libro se cierra, queda una pregunta flotando, obstinada: ¿cuántas decisiones de tu vida fueron realmente elecciones, y cuántas solo el eco de una música que empezó a sonar antes de que te dieras cuenta? Si alguna vez creíste que perseverar un poco más arreglaría tu mala racha, quizá deberías leer esta novela.
Jim Nashe hereda dinero, abandona su vida anterior y se lanza a la carretera sin un plan claro, con la vaga fe de quien cree que moverse ya es una forma de decidir. A partir de ahí, el azar —ese dios sin rostro que Auster maneja con una frialdad casi obscena— empieza a afinar su instrumento. Un encuentro fortuito, una partida de cartas, una decisión tomada sin convicción real… y el descenso queda activado. Pero ojo, Auster no nos presenta un azar impersonal: cada golpe, cada revés, está siempre en tensión con lo que los personajes eligen —o dejan de elegir—; la libertad parece una ilusión, pero es también un peso que se mide en cada decisión que deciden ignorar. No hay épica. No hay rebelión heroica. Solo una cadena de actos pequeños que, sumados, se convierten en condena.
Auster escribe esta novela como una fábula moderna y cruel. Todo es aparentemente sencillo, casi esquemático, pero esa desnudez es justo lo que inquieta. La prosa —esto es Auster, no Nabokov— es como siempre: limpia, contenida, sin barroquismos innecesarios, como si el autor se negara a ofrecer consuelo estilístico. El narrador observa, registra, deja que los hechos se encadenen sin subrayados morales. Y en ese silencio es donde el lector empieza a sentirse incómodo.
Porque lo verdaderamente perturbador no es la arbitrariedad del castigo, sino la docilidad con la que los personajes lo aceptan. La música del azar habla de obediencia, de humillación, de cómo un hombre puede acostumbrarse a lo intolerable si lo llaman “regla”, “deuda” o “acuerdo”. El famoso muro que atraviesa la novela no es solo una construcción física: es la materialización de una lógica absurda que nadie cuestiona con suficiente fuerza, un Sísifo moderno: trabajo interminable, repetición absurda, una lucha que no promete victoria, solo resistencia frente a lo inevitable. Kafka asoma por aquí, sí, pero sin laberintos burocráticos: Auster prefiere el espacio abierto, la carretera, el campo, para demostrar que el encierro más eficaz no necesita paredes visibles.
Hay algo profundamente masculino —y profundamente triste— en la forma en que Nashe se relaciona con su destino. Orgullo herido, resistencia muda, incapacidad para pedir ayuda, para decir “hasta aquí”. Auster no lo juzga, pero tampoco lo absuelve. Lo observa como se observa a alguien que sigue cavando aun cuando ya no hay salida. Y eso duele porque resulta reconocible.
Y luego está Jack Pozzi, el contrapunto, alguien que todavía cree que se puede negociar con la suerte, que el ingenio y la audacia pueden inclinar la balanza: un personaje que funciona como espejo y contraste de Nashe. Mientras uno se deja arrastrar por la deriva y la obediencia silenciosa, el otro se mantiene firme en su confianza, en su capacidad de maniobrar, en la ilusión de que todavía existe margen de acción. Esa tensión entre ambos no solo define la dinámica de la novela, sino que nos recuerda que la humillación y la fortuna no son universales: dependen de cómo decides enfrentarlas.
Porque esa tensión entre aceptar o resistir, entre obedecer o maniobrar, no es solo de los personajes: si alguna vez seguiste adelante solo para no admitir que te habías equivocado, sabes exactamente de qué va esta novela.
Conviene advertirlo: no es una lectura amable. La novela no ofrece redención, ni aprendizaje reconfortante, ni justicia poética. El azar aquí no es caprichoso, es indiferente. Y la libertad, esa palabra tan bonita, aparece como una ilusión frágil que se rompe en cuanto el mundo decide no colaborar. Pero Auster no cierra puertas: no hace falta ser fatalista para entrar en esta historia, basta con aceptar que a veces las cosas no “significan” nada más allá de lo que hacen contigo.
La música del azar es una de esas novelas que no gritan, que no levantan la voz y, sin embargo, se quedan resonando mucho tiempo después. Terminas de leerla con una sensación incómoda, casi física, como si alguien hubiera tocado una melodía que preferías no reconocer… pero que, de algún modo, ya conocías.
Y sí, se lleva mis cinco estrellas. Pero aviso: nadie sale indemne. La novela no perdona, no consuela, y aun así cada giro, cada obstáculo absurdo, tiene un peso que no se olvida. Auster no te entretiene; te aprieta. Y eso, en mi opinión, es justo lo que la hace valer cada estrella.
Porque cuando el libro se cierra, queda una pregunta flotando, obstinada: ¿cuántas decisiones de tu vida fueron realmente elecciones, y cuántas solo el eco de una música que empezó a sonar antes de que te dieras cuenta? Si alguna vez creíste que perseverar un poco más arreglaría tu mala racha, quizá deberías leer esta novela.
September 5, 2023
Az Auster-regények gyakran olyanok, mint egy kecsegtető körülmények között indított kirándulás, ami egy ponton brutális teljesítménytúrává változik. Amikor nekivágunk, a nap süt, a páratartalom megfelelő, minden klappolni látszik - ez az austeri próza epikus jellege, ami többé-kevésbé lineáris történetmeséléssel, színes figurákkal, meg a többi szériatartozékkal dolgozik. Aztán egy ponton váratlanul viharfellegek borítják be az eget, a szél feltámad, és bár az előbb még fürödtünk a fényben, most egyszeriben éjszakába zuhant a délután. Minden vészjósló lesz, vigasztalan és súlyos. Mintha eltévedtünk volna.
Itt is ez a fennforgás: Jim cél nélkül autókázik keresztül Amerikán, amikor belebotlik Jackbe, a nagy dumás fiatal kártyásba. Együtt elhatározzák, hogy megkopasztanak pár mókás milliomost, persze csak a világon fellelhető dollármennyiség egyenlőbb elosztása érdekében. Csakhogy a mókás milliomosok kevésbé mókásak, mint vártuk (bár sokkal milliomosabbak), úgyhogy hőseink ott találják magukat egy bitang nagy mező közepén egy grandiózus falat építve, amely fal a grandiózusságon túl még totálisan értelmetlen is. És már el is jutottunk a klasszikus történetmeséléstől Kafkáig. Szeretem az ilyen transzformációkat.
Muszáj jó könyvnek neveznem - tegnap éjjel még volt hátra ötven oldal, amikor MINDENKÉPPEN le kellett volna feküdnöm, de annyira akartam tudni, mire fut ki az egész, hogy a lefekvés egyáltalán nem tűnt megvalósíthatónak (vö.: "beszippantott"). Úgyhogy ledaráltam. Viszont a végén valahogy rossz maradt a szám íze - és nem csak a tudat miatt, hogy másnap tutira pokoli lesz hatkor felkelni. Hanem mert nekem csalódás ez a végkifejlet. Elhamarkodottnak, összecsapottnak találtam, mintha Auster nem találta volna az összhangot azzal az atmoszférával, amit addig fáradságos munkával felépített. Úgy éreztem, egy csomó lehetőség maradt benne a könyvben, elszalasztva a kibontakoztatást.
De nem baj, fejben írok a könyvnek másik befejezést.
Itt is ez a fennforgás: Jim cél nélkül autókázik keresztül Amerikán, amikor belebotlik Jackbe, a nagy dumás fiatal kártyásba. Együtt elhatározzák, hogy megkopasztanak pár mókás milliomost, persze csak a világon fellelhető dollármennyiség egyenlőbb elosztása érdekében. Csakhogy a mókás milliomosok kevésbé mókásak, mint vártuk (bár sokkal milliomosabbak), úgyhogy hőseink ott találják magukat egy bitang nagy mező közepén egy grandiózus falat építve, amely fal a grandiózusságon túl még totálisan értelmetlen is. És már el is jutottunk a klasszikus történetmeséléstől Kafkáig. Szeretem az ilyen transzformációkat.
Muszáj jó könyvnek neveznem - tegnap éjjel még volt hátra ötven oldal, amikor MINDENKÉPPEN le kellett volna feküdnöm, de annyira akartam tudni, mire fut ki az egész, hogy a lefekvés egyáltalán nem tűnt megvalósíthatónak (vö.: "beszippantott"). Úgyhogy ledaráltam. Viszont a végén valahogy rossz maradt a szám íze - és nem csak a tudat miatt, hogy másnap tutira pokoli lesz hatkor felkelni. Hanem mert nekem csalódás ez a végkifejlet. Elhamarkodottnak, összecsapottnak találtam, mintha Auster nem találta volna az összhangot azzal az atmoszférával, amit addig fáradságos munkával felépített. Úgy éreztem, egy csomó lehetőség maradt benne a könyvben, elszalasztva a kibontakoztatást.
De nem baj, fejben írok a könyvnek másik befejezést.
September 19, 2018
Βαθμολογία: 9/10
Τον Ιούλιο του 2011, σε έναν μίνι μαραθώνιο ανάγνωσης, διάβασα τα τρία βιβλία που απαρτίζουν την Τριλογία της Νέας Υόρκης, βιβλία αρκετά διαφορετικά σε σχέση με αυτά που είχα συνηθίσει να διαβάζω τότε. Όλα αυτά τα χρόνια όμως, δεν έτυχε να διαβάσω κάποιο άλλο βιβλίο του συγγραφέα, αν και δεν είναι λίγα αυτά που αγόρασα στο μεσοδιάστημα. Όμως το πήρα απόφαση και έπιασα το συγκεκριμένο: Ήταν η καλύτερη δυνατή επιλογή. Μιλάμε για ένα πολύ ενδιαφέρον και εξαιρετικά καλογραμμένο μυθιστόρημα, που διαθέτει όλα εκείνα τα στοιχεία που χαρακτηρίζουν το έργο του Πολ Όστερ: Παραλογισμός, υπαρξιακές αναζητήσεις, εκκεντρικοί χαρακτήρες, αλλά και πλοκή με μυστήριο και αγωνία που κρατάει το ενδιαφέρον του αναγνώστη από την αρχή μέχρι το (απότομο αλλά δυνατό) φινάλε. Η γραφή του Όστερ
πραγματικά με ξετρέλανε, από τις πρώτες κιόλας σελίδες κατάλαβα ότι θα διάβαζα κάτι πολύ δυνατό, και φυσικά δεν έπεσα έξω. Γραφή γεμάτη σιγουριά και οξυδέρκεια, με τις περιγραφές να είναι ιδιαίτερα ρεαλιστικές και τους διαλόγους εξαιρετικά φυσικούς. Εννοείται ότι η όλη μακάβρια και ολίγον τι θλιβερή ιστορία, που βασικά ασχολείται με την τυχαιότητα, τη μοίρα και το πεπρωμένο, κρύβει κάποια βαθύτερα νοήματα μέσα στις διάφορες καταστάσεις που μπορεί αρχικά να φανούν παράλογες. Ειλικρινά, απόλαυσα την κάθε σελίδα, την κάθε πρόταση. Και η αλήθεια είναι ότι πριν ξεκινήσω το βιβλίο, δεν περίμενα να διαβάσω κάτι που θα με άγγιζε τόσο πολύ. Το μόνο σίγουρο είναι ότι δεν θα αφήσω να περάσουν πάλι εφτά και βάλε χρόνια μέχρι να ξαναδιαβάσω βιβλίο του συγγραφέα.
Τον Ιούλιο του 2011, σε έναν μίνι μαραθώνιο ανάγνωσης, διάβασα τα τρία βιβλία που απαρτίζουν την Τριλογία της Νέας Υόρκης, βιβλία αρκετά διαφορετικά σε σχέση με αυτά που είχα συνηθίσει να διαβάζω τότε. Όλα αυτά τα χρόνια όμως, δεν έτυχε να διαβάσω κάποιο άλλο βιβλίο του συγγραφέα, αν και δεν είναι λίγα αυτά που αγόρασα στο μεσοδιάστημα. Όμως το πήρα απόφαση και έπιασα το συγκεκριμένο: Ήταν η καλύτερη δυνατή επιλογή. Μιλάμε για ένα πολύ ενδιαφέρον και εξαιρετικά καλογραμμένο μυθιστόρημα, που διαθέτει όλα εκείνα τα στοιχεία που χαρακτηρίζουν το έργο του Πολ Όστερ: Παραλογισμός, υπαρξιακές αναζητήσεις, εκκεντρικοί χαρακτήρες, αλλά και πλοκή με μυστήριο και αγωνία που κρατάει το ενδιαφέρον του αναγνώστη από την αρχή μέχρι το (απότομο αλλά δυνατό) φινάλε. Η γραφή του Όστερ
πραγματικά με ξετρέλανε, από τις πρώτες κιόλας σελίδες κατάλαβα ότι θα διάβαζα κάτι πολύ δυνατό, και φυσικά δεν έπεσα έξω. Γραφή γεμάτη σιγουριά και οξυδέρκεια, με τις περιγραφές να είναι ιδιαίτερα ρεαλιστικές και τους διαλόγους εξαιρετικά φυσικούς. Εννοείται ότι η όλη μακάβρια και ολίγον τι θλιβερή ιστορία, που βασικά ασχολείται με την τυχαιότητα, τη μοίρα και το πεπρωμένο, κρύβει κάποια βαθύτερα νοήματα μέσα στις διάφορες καταστάσεις που μπορεί αρχικά να φανούν παράλογες. Ειλικρινά, απόλαυσα την κάθε σελίδα, την κάθε πρόταση. Και η αλήθεια είναι ότι πριν ξεκινήσω το βιβλίο, δεν περίμενα να διαβάσω κάτι που θα με άγγιζε τόσο πολύ. Το μόνο σίγουρο είναι ότι δεν θα αφήσω να περάσουν πάλι εφτά και βάλε χρόνια μέχρι να ξαναδιαβάσω βιβλίο του συγγραφέα.
December 19, 2020
Si ya el Sr Auster me había conquistado con otras de sus obras, la trilogía Nueva York, el Palacio de la luna, Leviatán, aquí me terminé de enamorar de su pluma. Creo que acabo de leer al mejor Auster, un libro con una construcción impecable, la historia roza lo absurdo y siempre con su toque del "imprevisto". En si todas sus novelas se basan en personajes que de un momento a otro sus vidas cambian radicalmente y este libro creo es el culmen de su estilo que ya es marca de agua.
Maravilloso
Maravilloso
January 20, 2016
نمیدونم چرا تا آخرش خوندم:(..کتابی ضعیف از پل آستر..انتظار این همه بد بودن رو نداشتم..هیچ چیز نداشت این کتاب جز مکالمه های بی سر وته که چیزی برای یادگرفتن نداشت...البته دوسه تا جمله بود که خوب بودن ولی در کل کتاب خوبی نبود..به امید کتاب بهتری از آستر:)
July 28, 2010
Pennsylvania in the 80's. 33-y/o Jim Nashe is a bum newly divorced dad who inherited almost US$200,000 from his dead dad who he did not see for almost 30 years. He resigned from his work as a fireman, bought an expensive Saab (car), threw a couple of parties, left his 4-y/o daughter Juliette to his sister Donna and drove around aimlessly across the USA. He likes music (he plays the piano) so he has lots of cassette tapes (this is in the 80s) in the car. The long drives while the music is on seem to bring him to another world. See the cover: it captures everything a child - because that really what he seems to be being a bum and aimless - driving a red sports car. Read the title: The Music of Chance. Music forms the integral mood in this novel. Auster made use of classical music and sounds to heighten emotions to important scenes in this book.
We know that books, unless they are audiobooks, cannot have songs or music. The way Mr. Auster does this is he mentions a song, tune or artist in a particular scene with the character probably listening to it. As I reader, if you are familiar with the song, tune or artist you recall it and as you read, it is as if you are with the character (or maybe you become that character) experiencing the sight and sound of the scene. It is what I then call the magic of literature: being transported straight to a literary fictional world while in reality you are just sitting on the armchair or lying in bed. With music, it is like being in the movie. It is just wonderful.
This is my 3rd book by Paul Auster. Early last year, I read his The New York Trilogy a.k.a. NYT and I was struck by his brilliance in interrelating his characters and plots in those three well-written stories. It was my first time to read a book like that so I gave it a 5-star rating and promised myself to re-read it in the future. A couple of months back, I read his Invisible as it is a newly added book in the 2010 edition of the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. The distinctive Auster style is still there: straightforward, no-frills, no-pretentions, no-philosophical agenda writing is still there but the plot is different from NYT as it deals with incest. So, I have to give it another 5-star rating. Using "3-novel rule": you can tell a writer if he is formulaic by reading 3 of his works. For Auster, he is definitely not formulaic. Music does not have the mistaken identity plot in NYT, no incest plot in Invisible. The same distinctive writing style is there. But the theme, plot and characters are totally different.
His work does not have any of those stream-of-consciousness, roman-a-clef or other literary terminologies. His characters cannot talk to cats, cannot fly, cannot smell all the odors in his surroundings. He does not use big words that will prompt you to open a nearby dictionary in the middle of the night. He does not surprise you with big quotation that will prompt you to fold the corner of the page. He does not make you cry. He does not make you laugh.
Auster is just straightforward storyteller. His characters can be you or me. Easy read but his vivid imagination and believable plot do the trick. You will cry or laugh but you will perhaps dream. No wonder that this 1001 book is also in the 100 Must Read Book for Men.
If there is a new author whose work you may want to sample soon, try Auster. Chances are, you will love him.
We know that books, unless they are audiobooks, cannot have songs or music. The way Mr. Auster does this is he mentions a song, tune or artist in a particular scene with the character probably listening to it. As I reader, if you are familiar with the song, tune or artist you recall it and as you read, it is as if you are with the character (or maybe you become that character) experiencing the sight and sound of the scene. It is what I then call the magic of literature: being transported straight to a literary fictional world while in reality you are just sitting on the armchair or lying in bed. With music, it is like being in the movie. It is just wonderful.
This is my 3rd book by Paul Auster. Early last year, I read his The New York Trilogy a.k.a. NYT and I was struck by his brilliance in interrelating his characters and plots in those three well-written stories. It was my first time to read a book like that so I gave it a 5-star rating and promised myself to re-read it in the future. A couple of months back, I read his Invisible as it is a newly added book in the 2010 edition of the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. The distinctive Auster style is still there: straightforward, no-frills, no-pretentions, no-philosophical agenda writing is still there but the plot is different from NYT as it deals with incest. So, I have to give it another 5-star rating. Using "3-novel rule": you can tell a writer if he is formulaic by reading 3 of his works. For Auster, he is definitely not formulaic. Music does not have the mistaken identity plot in NYT, no incest plot in Invisible. The same distinctive writing style is there. But the theme, plot and characters are totally different.
His work does not have any of those stream-of-consciousness, roman-a-clef or other literary terminologies. His characters cannot talk to cats, cannot fly, cannot smell all the odors in his surroundings. He does not use big words that will prompt you to open a nearby dictionary in the middle of the night. He does not surprise you with big quotation that will prompt you to fold the corner of the page. He does not make you cry. He does not make you laugh.
Auster is just straightforward storyteller. His characters can be you or me. Easy read but his vivid imagination and believable plot do the trick. You will cry or laugh but you will perhaps dream. No wonder that this 1001 book is also in the 100 Must Read Book for Men.
If there is a new author whose work you may want to sample soon, try Auster. Chances are, you will love him.
December 15, 2008
By far the best book I have read of Auster. The characters are brought deeper and deeper into a prison made up of their own careless acts of chance.
The ending reminded me of Kafka's "The Trial" - just as one sees light at the end of the tunnel, a random event changes everything - just like the game of poker in the begining
The ending reminded me of Kafka's "The Trial" - just as one sees light at the end of the tunnel, a random event changes everything - just like the game of poker in the begining
October 8, 2017
giudizi in un haiku
e ti porta via
il caso se ti prende
inaspettato
e ti porta via
il caso se ti prende
inaspettato
February 13, 2019
1. I liked this book a lot more than I expected.
2. I'm not sure I've seen a book on Goodreads before with this many ratings and 0% one star ratings.
That's all I've got for a review. You can imagine those two points drawn out with a couple of thousand words of rambling asides as being what my review would basically say.
2. I'm not sure I've seen a book on Goodreads before with this many ratings and 0% one star ratings.
That's all I've got for a review. You can imagine those two points drawn out with a couple of thousand words of rambling asides as being what my review would basically say.
August 17, 2018
4.5
Супер написана. Чете се все едно шофираш с удоволствие.
ПП. След като я прочетете не бързайте да си мислите, че сте я прочели. Изчакайте малко и си върнете някои сцени.
Супер написана. Чете се все едно шофираш с удоволствие.
ПП. След като я прочетете не бързайте да си мислите, че сте я прочели. Изчакайте малко и си върнете някои сцени.
April 6, 2022
Thật sự. Bao nhiêu năm nay cuốn này nằm trên giá sách của tôi mà tôi còn ko để mắt tới. Để đêm nay phải lậm nó thế này. Một cuốn sách đến đúng vào lúc tôi cũng khá vô định trong cuộc sống. Và thật buồn khi tôi phải nói, với bạn nào đọc cuốn sách này, nếu muốn thấy nó hay thật hay hay vờ vịt, bạn cần phải khá trải đời một chút. Bạn cũng muốn bỏ việc, vất mẹ các thứ khác đi mà đi, mà lái, các cung đường. Rồi bạn trống rỗng, tiền tiết kiệm móp đi và loanh quanh trong cái phòng nhỏ chật chội của mình, xây bức tường tưởng tượng nhưng cũng chẳng bắt tay vào làm bất cứ một cái mẹ gì. Bạn sẽ rất hiểu cuôn sách này, và cái thần của Paul Auster. Một cuốn thấm thía
Hết.
Hết.
April 4, 2021
Qué grandísimo narrador es Auster.
La música del azar cuenta una historia extraña y bastante inverosímil, pero que atrapa desde el primer momento. El ritmo de la narración es tremendo y vertiginoso, lo que hace imposible soltarla. Lo mejor que tiene, creo, es que el final se torna cada vez más inevitable y necesario, por lo que llegados a ese punto (y como pasa en la música), el desenlace es casi un alivio para el lector.
Una obra sin duda peculiar pero perfecta, justo lo que necesitaba este domingo. Me encantó.
La música del azar cuenta una historia extraña y bastante inverosímil, pero que atrapa desde el primer momento. El ritmo de la narración es tremendo y vertiginoso, lo que hace imposible soltarla. Lo mejor que tiene, creo, es que el final se torna cada vez más inevitable y necesario, por lo que llegados a ese punto (y como pasa en la música), el desenlace es casi un alivio para el lector.
Una obra sin duda peculiar pero perfecta, justo lo que necesitaba este domingo. Me encantó.
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