Hello there,

My name is Nadia and I thought I'd write and tell you my little Paul Auster story. I'm 24, live in London and am currently visiting New York for the first time. I've been meaning to for years. As soon as I saved enough cash, I bought my plane ticket.

I've been fascinated with New York for years and the books of Paul Auster have had a lot - a lot - to do with my romantic obsession (along with the usual suspects - Woody Allen, Velvet Underground, Scorcese...)

I'm finally seeing all the things I'd read about in The NYT, roaming around Central Park remembering Moon Palace, hoping to see Auggie Wren... wondering if it would be an idea to randomly follow a stranger's route through the city to see where it took me...

I was wandering up Bowery on Wednesday, trying in vain to find a bar one of my friends back home had told me about. I was hot and uncomfortable and almost turned back a couple of times. I was getting hungry. I saw a pizza place and wandered in. I'm not really a pizza fan.

 

While I was staring at the menu, I noticed the guy in front of me. He was tall and had grey hair and looked older than the picture on the back of my books, but it was Paul Auster all right.

I was struck dumb and thought... well, should I say anything? Wouldn't that just be annoying for him? And then I thought, actually, I don't care, 'cause if it wasn't for this man I probably wouldn't be here anyway. And this, from my persepective at least, is an amazingly freakish coincidence. 

 

Me: (hopefully sotto-voiced but I was probably shouting) "Um, excuse me, sir. Are you Paul Auster?"

PA: (gentle nod)"Yes."

Me: (and my memory is befuddled by nervous excitment here) "Well, er, I just wanted to say that I'm, um, a visitor here from London and um, half the reason I'm, um, even here is, um, because of your books and everything...."

PA: " (I actually don't remember what he said here. I think it was something along the lines of ,"Oh great, well, thanks") Are you coming tonight?"

Me: "What's tonight?"

PA: "I'm doing a reading tonight just over there (points to Cooper Union) and there's going to be some jazz music and stuff..."

Me: "Oh! Oh wow.... when is it?"

PA: "It's about 7.30-ish I think."

Me: "Oh. Great! Um, yeah!"

PA: (as daughter approaches probably for some pizza-related reason) "This is my daughter. This is.... a young lady from London who's coming tonight."

SA: (politely patient with the wide-eyed scruff standing before her) "Hi."

Me: (awkwardly shake hands in absence of any idea of what else to do) "Nice to meet you"

There is then a closing of the conversation. But he still has to wait for his pizza and I still have to decide what to get.

That awkward silence. Do we have to forget that conversation now? God, I feel so fucking embarrassed. Oh no, this is terrible.

Me: "Do I need to buy a ticket now or..."

PA: (With bemused smile)"Um, I think you can probably just show up at about quarter past or something. Or you could buy your ticket now! It's just over there.."

Me: "Oh, cool, um, well, thanks.."

PA makes escape with pizza.

I cannot contemplate menu. I am, I have to admit, completely starstruck.

 

After the reading I get Hand To Mouth signed.

PA: "You made it."

Me: "Yeah, I made it."

 

So that's my little story.

For him it was a few seconds dealing with a bumbling fan while trying to get lunch.

For me it was a chance meeting staright out of the pages of a... well, I don't really need to labour this point anymore, do I?

 

Thanks,

Nadia Shireen