Paul Auster could be postmodernism's poster child. Structurally overt, intellectually complex, metaphorically self-conscious, Auster explores surfaces in order to dig deep and borrows classical forms in order to reveal contemporary dissonance. Among Foucault-quoting, No Logo youth worldwide, Auster is hip as a Radiohead T-shirt. And the French adore him. But don't get the wrong idea. Though there may be enough literary arcana and linguistic wordplay in his work to inspire a semiotics symposium (or two), Paul Auster is primarily a reader's writer. And never has this been more apparent than in his tenth novel, The Book of Illusions. As the story opens, Vermont professor David Zimmer has just lost his wife and child in a tragic accident. Nearly destroyed by grief, Zimmer finally escapes his self-absorption by writing a book about an obscure silent film comedian named Hector Mann, whose budding career was cut short in the twenties after he abruptly disappeared without a trace. Shortly after the book is published, Zimmer receives a note from Mann's wife asking if he would like to the meet Hector, who, it turns out, is still alive. Naturally, Zimmer accepts and becomes the first person outside of a very small circle to hear the story of Hector Mann's strange, tumultuous life. As the reader is led deeper into Mann's story, parallels between Mann's and Zimmer's lives begin to emerge, and the stories of these two wounded men become a provocative exploration of fundamental questions about art, identity, and human passion. Farley, Powells.com

In this rich and emotionally charged work, a man's obsession with a silent film star sends him on a journey into a shadowy world of lies, illusions, and unexpected love.

Paul Auster's most recent novel, Timbuktu (0-312-42100-1), was a national bestseller, as was I Thought My Father Was God (0-312-42100-4), the NPR National Story Project anthology, which he edited. He lives in Brooklyn, New York. The Book of Illusions is his tenth novel.