In the Country of Last Things by Paul Auster

Author:Paul Auster [Auster, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781101562598
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 1988-05-01T16:00:00+00:00

“I don’t believe in God anymore, if that’s what you mean,” I said. “I gave all that up when I was a little girl.”

“It’s difficult not to,” the Rabbi said. “When you consider the evidence, there’s a good reason why so many think as you do.”

“You’re not going to tell me that you believe in God,” I said.

“We talk to him. But whether or not he hears us is another matter.”

“My friend Isabel believed in God,” I continued. “She’s dead, too. I sold her Bible for seven glots to Mr. Gambino, the Resurrection Agent. That was a terrible thing to do, wasn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. There are more important things than books, after all. Food comes before prayers.”

It was strange what had come over me in the presence of this man, but the more I talked to him, the more I sounded like a child. Perhaps he reminded me of how things had been when I was very young, back in the dark ages when I still believed in what fathers and teachers said to me. I can’t say for sure, but the fact was that I felt on solid ground with him, and I knew that he was someone I could trust. Almost unconsciously, I found myself reaching into my coat pocket and pulling out the picture of Samuel Farr.

“I’m also looking for this man,” I said. “His name is Samuel Farr, and there’s a good chance that he knows what happened to my brother.”

I handed the picture to the Rabbi, but after studying it for several moments, he shook his head and said that he did not recognize the face. Just as I was beginning to feel disappointed, a man at the other end of the table spoke up. He was the youngest one there, and his reddish beard was smaller and wispier than anyone else’s.

“Rabbi,” he said timidly. “May I say something?”

“You don’t need permission, Isaac,” the Rabbi said. “You can say whatever you like.”

“Nothing is certain, of course, but I believe I know who that person is,” the young man said. “At least, I know someone by that name. It might not be the person the young lady is looking for, but I do know the name.”

“Have a look at the picture, then,” the Rabbi said, sliding the photograph across the table to him.

Isaac looked, and the expression on his face was so somber, so devoid of response, that I immediately lost hope. “It’s a very poor likeness,” he finally said. “But now that I’ve had a chance to study it, I don’t think there’s any question that this is the man.” Isaac’s pale, scholarly face broke into a smile. “I’ve talked to him several times,” he continued. “He’s an intelligent man, but extremely bitter. We disagree on just about everything.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Before I had a chance to say a word, the Rabbi asked, “Where can this man be found, Isaac?”

“Mr. Farr is not far,” Isaac said, unable to resist the pun. He giggled briefly, then added: “He lives right here in the library.

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