Forget everything you think you know about Paul Auster, as with the release of his New York Trilogy manuscripts, the award-winning author talks typewriters, telephones, and why he doesn't think of himself
as a novelist.
With the series coda to Geoff Johns' six-year run on Green Lantern just completed, the once bright Silver Age hero's adventures leave a bitter taste, more because of magical promise of Johns' early work.
A dark, slippery love story, a meditation on the risks of embracing one’s muse, a study of the author and his/her “creation”, a quiet reflection on the nature of “human understanding”, this film is many things at once.
It provokes such interrogation in a way that other novels don't, as if we can legitimately expect so much more from a writer who consistently delivers less, and who has made the theme of 'lessness' his own defining quality.