Contemporary literature

Paul Auster's novel Baumgarten, published just a few months before the death of the renowned American writer, serves as the culmination of his long literary career, rich in bestsellers – let us mention New York Trilogy, and Moon Palace – which have permanently established him among the greatest authors of world literature in the past forty years.

The novel's multi-layered narrative space is built around the premature death of the protagonist's wife, Anna. Baumgarten compares this tragic event to losing a limb, the absence of which – despite the passage of time – remains painfully perceptible. This comparison perfectly conveys the emotional void and suffering the protagonist endures until the very end of his existence. All attempts to replace the irretrievably lost part of his “self” turn out to be mere unsatisfactory substitutes, incapable of turning back time or helping him fully embrace life again.

Only the act of cherishing memories of his late wife brings him solace – Baumgarten lives through the moments they shared and his work on Anna's unpublished writings. An unexpected message from a young PhD student, Beatrix Coen, who is interested in studying Anna’s literary legacy, injects a breath of fresh air into the monotony of his life and helps him emerge from his lethargy. Will the researcher’s anticipated visit mark a new beginning for Baumgarten?

Although Baumgarten does not match Auster’s greatest novels, it remains an engaging read that is hard to put down. Its strength – and at the same time its weakness – lies in the author’s signature multi-threaded narrative, which this time he does not always manage to fully control. Unlike his finest works, here, some storylines seem unnecessary, random, or even overly drawn out.

Most notably, towards the end of the novel, the subplot involving Baumgarten's journey to Ukraine feels detached from the main narrative arc. While one might discern some symbolic significance, it remains insufficiently anchored in the book’s structure. In contrast to the carefully constructed, intricately woven plots of his best novels, here, it seems as if Auster introduces this episode almost arbitrarily, as if on a whim. The lack of a clear connection to previous events makes this section feel more like the author’s personal reflection rather than an organic part of the novel. Thus, while Baumgarten remains a compelling read, infused with Auster’s characteristic melancholy, its ending loses narrative cohesion, leaving the reader with a sense of unfinished resolution.