“The whole city is a junk heap.”
The city—it should go without saying—is New York. And the fact that it is a metaphorically rich in the broken refuse of history that nevertheless still retains value to someone is what it the narrator identifies as its singular virtue for someone in his particular domain of private investigation.
“For man is a fallen creature— we know that from Genesis. Humpty Dumpty is also a fallen creature.”
Auster almost certainly cannot possibly be the first author to make the ill-fated, wall-sitting egg a metaphor for the Biblical Adam and his own fall from the wall a metaphor for man’s fall from grace after banished from the Garden of Eden. But then again, he just might be. One of the great things about metaphor is that it presents a dazzlingly infinite potential for breathtaking new discoveries.
“Not only is an umbrella a thing, it is a thing that performs a function—in other words, expresses the will of man.”
The metaphor of the umbrella being an extension of man due to its meaning being reliant as expressing the will of its owner opens up a short philosophical dialogue that extends this concept to every “thing.” Does anything created by human hands really exist on a literal sphere at all since its use is only determined by necessity. Is an umbrella still literally an umbrella when it is not used at all or, say, when it is wielded as a weapon? And if not, then is it ever really endowed with literal meaning at all or does it always exist purely a metaphorical level that is at all times dependent on how the hand wielding it decides to use it. Is anything that can be used for more than one purpose—whatever the original intention—ever literally anything?
“Life is a bowl of cherries.”
A character in the novel provides a rather novel interpretation of this familiar proverbial metaphor. Apparently—according to this character—the phrase is nothing nor less than a metaphor for everlasting life without end. And this meaning traces back to the apocryphal story of George Washington cutting down a cherry tree and then admitting to rather than telling a lie. What Washington apparently did not know—bad news for the rest of us—is that the cherry tree he chopping down was nothing less than the Tree of Life which—had it remains standing in good health—could have made life a bowl of cherries those following in his path.
“For surely it was the Puritans, God’s newly chosen people, who held the destiny of mankind in their hands.”
Eternal life contained within an iconic image of American myth. Humpty Dumpty as latter-day Adam representing the fall of man. And Puritans as God’s Chosen People of the New World. Clearly, the private detective work dealing with the assorted jetsam and flotsam of New Yorkers does not belong to the same universe as Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe’s line of work on the other coast.
Private Investigation
Yes, just in case it has not yet become obvious. The work of private investigation is better addressed from a metaphorical interpretation in Auster's book than its literal antecedents. This is a literary work of fiction--a highly literary work of fiction. The mystery that lies at its heart has more to do with the ambiguity of meaning in the universe than tracking down statues of birds or the true purpose being leagues of men with red hair.
