Paul Auster’s Man in the Dark was short and a good example of why genre labels are weird. Though this one has a reality shifting character who travels between this world and a world where America is in civil war (and the Yankees and Rockettes have switched roles), because it’s Paul Auster it counts as literature. Weird as hell, but not to be found in the SF section. It’s a short book and as always when I finished it I asked myself why I don’t own everything he’s ever written.
I was trying to read it yesterday on my way out to a family gathering but got dirty looks from the people I shared the back seat of Sri’s Civic with. It was important I listen to the litany of death crime and fear that comes out of my aunt’s mouth I guess, instead of reading about a man with a broken leg and his creation who doesn’t want to kill him. Selah.