The Book of Illusions by Paul Auster

translations since the book was published in 1848. One in 1849 and one in 1902. It’s high time someone did another, don’t you think? I have no idea if you’re still interested in translating books, but if you are, I would love it if you agreed to do this one for us .
    I had a telephone now. It wasn’t that I was hoping anyone would call me, but I figured I should have one put in just in case something went wrong. I had no neighbors up there, and if the roof fell in or the house caught fire, I wanted to be able to ring for help. This was one of my few concessions to reality, a grudging acknowledgment that I was not in fact the only person left in the world. Normally, I would have answered Alex by letter, but I happened to be in the kitchen when I opened the mail that afternoon, and the phone was right there, sitting on the counter not two feet from my hand. Alex had recently moved, and his new address and number were written out just below his signature. It was too tempting not to take advantage of all this, so I picked up the receiver and dialed.
    The phone rang four times on the other end, and then an answering machine clicked on. Unexpectedly, the message was spoken by a child. After three or four words, I recognized the voice as that of Alex’s son. Jacob must have been around ten at that point, roughly a year and a half older than Todd—or a year and a half older than Todd would have been if he had still been alive. The little boy said: It’s the bottom of the ninth. The bases are loaded, and two men are out. The score is four to three, my team is losing, and I’m up. If I get a hit, we win the game. Here comes the pitch. I swing. It’s a ground ball. I drop the bat and start running. The second baseman scoops up the grounder, throws to first, and I’m out. Yes, that’s right, folks, I’m out. Jacob is out. And so is my father, Alex; my mother, Barbara; and my sister, Julie. The whole family is out right now. Please leave a message after the beep, and we’ll call you back just as soon as we round the bases and come home.
    It was a cute bit of nonsense, but it rattled me. When the beep sounded after the message was over, I couldn’t think of anything to say, and rather than let the tape run on in silence, I hung up. I had never liked talking into those machines. They made me nervous and uncomfortable, but listening to Jacob had spun me around and knocked me off my feet, pushed me into something close to despair. There had been too much happiness in his voice, too much laughter spilling out from the edges of the words. Todd had been a bright and clever little boy, too, but he wasn’t eight and a half now, he was seven, and he would go on being seven even after Jacob was a grown man.
    I gave myself a few minutes, and then I tried again. I knew what to expect now, and when the message came on for the second time, I held the phone away from my ear so that I wouldn’t have to listen to it. The words seemed to go on forever, but when the beep cut them off at last, I brought the phone to my ear again and started to talk. Alex, I said. I’ve just read your letter, and I want you to know that I’m willing to do the translation. Considering how long the book is, you shouldn’t count on seeing a finished manuscript for two or three years. But I assume you’re aware of that already. I’m still settling in here, but once I learn how to use the computer I bought last week, I’ll get started. Thanks for the invitation. I’ve been casting about for something to do, and I think I’ll enjoy this. Best to Barbara and the kids. Talk to you soon, I hope.
    He called back that same evening, both startled and happy that I had accepted. It was just a shot in the dark, he said, but it wouldn’t have felt right if I hadn’t asked you first. I can’t tell you how glad I am.
    I’m glad you’re glad, I said.
    I’ll tell them to send you a contract tomorrow. Just to make everything official.
    Whatever you say. The fact is,