From Memory to History in the Invention of Solitude
             Memory is the driving force behind every idea in Paul Auster's Invention of Solitude; so much so, in fact, that he calls the second half, "The Book of Memory." There is no doubt that Auster was feeling lost in the barrage of endless reminiscence. The onset of this reflection began with the death of his father. It was then that Auster evinced the degradation of the memories he had. Like the wooden marionette, he felt the need to "dive into the depths of the sea and save [his] father to become"(79) a true son. The sea was his psyche, and Auster believed that the only possible way to excavate his father from his memory was to dig deeper and deeper into his inner mind through images as well as the act of writing. Auster may never have imagined his memories evolving into history, but inevitably they did.
             In the beginning of "The Invisible Man," Auster finds photos in his father's house and becomes engrossed with the prospect of deciphering his father through them. Auster writes: "It seemed that they could tell me things I had never known before, reveal some previously hidden truth, and I studied each one intensely, absorbing the least detail. . . I wanted nothing to be lost" (14). Indeed, at least one photo (the photo in which his grandfather is torn out) literally tells Auster much about his father. Auster later comments on the photo: "A whole world seems to emerge from this portrait: a distinct time, a distinct place, an indestructible sense of the past" (33).
             However, the danger of theorizing on the past through mere tangible objects becomes a rude awakening for Auster. Deception is discovered in every photo he once described as "the equivalent of holy relics." He soon concludes that "objects, it seems, are no more than objects. I am used to them now." The photos were, in a sense, a facade. Th...