Adam Gordon is a brilliant, if highly unreliable, young American poet on a prestigious fellowship in Madrid, struggling to establish his sense of self and his relationship to art. What is actual when our experiences are mediated by language, technology, medication, and the arts? Is poetry an essential art form, or merely a screen for the reader's projections? Instead of following the dictates of his fellowship, Adam’s “research” becomes a meditation on the possibility of the genuine in the arts and beyond: are his relationships with the people he meets in Spain as fraudulent as he fears his poems are? A witness to the 2004 Madrid train bombings and their aftermath, does he participate in historic events or merely watch them pass him by?
In prose that veers between the comic and tragic, the self-contemptuous and the inspired, Leaving the Atocha Station is a portrait of the artist as a young man in an age of Google searches, pharmaceuticals, and spectacle.
Born in Topeka, Kansas, in 1979, Ben Lerner is the author of three books of poetry The Lichtenberg Figures, Angle of Yaw, and Mean Free Path. He has been a finalist for the National Book Award and the Northern California Book Award, a Fulbright Scholar in Spain, and the recipient of a 2010-2011 Howard Foundation Fellowship. In 2011 he became the first American to win the Preis der Stadt Münster für Internationale Poesie. Leaving the Atocha Station is his first novel.
|Publisher:||Coffee House Press|
|Product dimensions:||8.78(w) x 6.08(h) x 0.48(d)|
About the Author
Born in Topeka, Kansas, in 1979, Ben Lerner is the author of three books of poetry The Lichtenberg Figures , Angle of Yaw , and Mean Free Path. He has been a finalist for the National Book Award and the Northern California Book Award, a Fulbright Scholar in Spain, and the recipient of a 2010-2011 Howard Foundation Fellowship. In 2011 he became the first American to win the Preis der Stadt Münster für Internationale Poesie. Leaving the Atocha Station is his first novel.
Read an Excerpt
An excerpt from Leaving the Atocha Station
The first phase of my research involved waking up weekday mornings in a barely furnished attic apartment on Calle de las Huertas, the first apartment I’d looked at after arriving in Madrid, or letting myself be woken by the noise from La Plaza Santa Ana, failing to assimilate that noise fully into my dream, then putting on the rusty stovetop espresso machine and rolling a spliff while I waited for the coffee. When the coffee was ready I opened the skylight, which was just big enough for me to crawl through if I stood on the bed, and drank my espresso and smoked on the roof overlooking the plaza where tourists were congregating with their guide books on the metal tables and the accordion player was plying his trade. In the distance: the palace and long lines of cloud. Next my project required dropping myself back through the skylight, shitting, taking a shower, my white pills, and getting dressed. Then I took my bag, which contained a bilingual edition of Lorca’s Collected Poems , my two notebooks, pocket dictionary, John Ashbery’s Selected Poems , drugs, and left for the Prado.
From my apartment I walked down Huertas, nodding to the street cleaners in their lime green jumpsuits, crossed El Paseo del Prado, entered the museum, which was only a couple of Euros with my international scholar ID, and proceeded directly to room 58, where I positioned myself in front of Roger Van der Weyden’s Descent from the Cross. I was usually standing before the painting within forty-five minutes of waking and so the hash and caffeine and sleep were still competing in my system as I faced the nearly life-sized figures and awaited equilibrium. Mary is forever falling to the ground in a faint; the blues of her robes are unsurpassed in Flemish painting. Her posture is almost an exact echo of Jesus’; Nicodemus and a helper hold his apparently weightless body in the air. C.1435; 220 x 262 cm. Oil on oak paneling.
A turning point in my project: I arrived one morning at the Van der Weyden to find someone had taken my place. He was standing exactly where I normally stood and for a moment I was startled, as if beholding myself beholding the painting, although he was thinner and darker than I. I waited for him to move on, but he didn’t. I wondered if he had observed me in front of the Descent and if he was now standing before the painting hoping to see whatever it was I must have been seeing. I was irritated and tried to find another canvas for my morning ritual, but I was too accustomed to the dimensions and blues of the Descent to accept a substitute. I was about to abandon room 58 when the man broke suddenly into tears, convulsively catching his breath. Was he, I wondered, just facing the wall to hide his face as he dealt with whatever grief he’d brought into the museum? Or was he having a profound experience of art?
I had long worried that I was incapable of having a profound experience of art and I had trouble believing that anyone had, at least anyone I knew. I was intensely suspicious of people who claimed a poem or painting or piece of music “changed their life,” especially since I had often known these people before and after their experience and could register no change. Although I claimed to be a poet, although my supposed talent as a writer had earned me my fellowship in Spain, I tended to find lines of poetry beautiful only when I encountered them quoted in prose, in the essays my professors had assigned in college, where the line breaks were replaced with slashes, so that what was communicated was less a particular poem than the echo of poetic possibility. Insofar as I was interested in the arts, I was interested in the disconnect between my experience of actual artworks and the claims made on their behalf; the closest I’d come to having a profound experience of art was probably the experience of this distance, a profound experience of the absence of profundity.
Once the man calmed down, which took at least two minutes, he wiped his face and blew his nose with a handkerchief he then returned to his pocket. On entering room 57 which was empty except for a lanky and sleepy guard, the man walked immediately up to the small votive image of Christ attributed to San Leocadio; green tunic, red robes, expression of deep sorrow. I pretended to take in other paintings while looking sidelong at the man as he considered the little canvas. For a long minute he was quiet and then he again released a sob. This startled the guard into alertness and our eyes met, mine saying that this had happened in the other gallery, the guard’s communicating his struggle to determine whether the man was crazyperhaps the kind of man who would damage a painting, spit on it or tear it from the wall or scratch it with a keyor if the man was having a profound experience of art. Out came the handkerchief and the man walked calmly into 56, stood before The Garden of Earthly Delights, considered it calmly, then totally lost his shit. Now there were three guards in the room, the lanky guard from 57, the short woman who always guarded 56, and an older guard with improbably long silver hair who must have heard the most recent outburst from the hall. The one or two other museum-goers in 56 were deep in their audio tours and oblivious to the scene unfolding before the Bosch.
What People are Saying About This
Winner of The 2012 Believer Book Award
Finalist for the 2011 Los Angeles Times Book Prize (Art Seidenbaum Award for First Fiction)
Finalist for The New York Public Library's 2012 Young Lions Fiction Award
Wall Street Journal’s Top 10 Fiction of 2011
The New Yorker’s Best of the Year in Culture 2011
Newsweek/Daily Beast’s Best of 2011
The Boston Globe’s Best of 2011
The Guardian’s Best Books of 2011
Shelf Unbound’s Top Ten of 2011
New Stateman’s Best Books of 2011
The Huffington Post "Yet Another Year-End List"
The Guardian, "book I wish I'd published" by Canongate publisher Jamie Byng
Work in Progress, "FSG's Favorite Book of 2012"
“[A] subtle, sinuous, and very funny first novel. . . . [Leaving the Atocha Station] has a beguiling mixture of lightness and weight. There are wonderful sentences and jokes on almost every page. Lerner is attempting to capture something that most conventional novels, with their cumbersome caravans of plot and scene and “conflict,” fail to do: the drift of thought, the unmomentous passage of undramatic life. . . .”James Wood, The New Yorker
"Ben Lerner's remarkable first novel . . . is a bildungsroman and meditation and slacker tale fused by a precise, reflective and darkly comic voice. It is also a revealing study of what it's like to be a young American abroad . . . Lerner is concerned with ineffability, but Adam Gordon (and the author) fight back with more than words . . . The ultimate product of Gordon's success is the novel itself." -Gary Sernovitz, The New York Times Book Review
“One of the funniest (and truest) novels I know of by a writer of his generation. . . . [A] dazzlingly good novel.”Lorin Stein, The New York Review of Books
“Flip, hip, smart, and very funny . . . [R]eading it was unlike any other novel-reading experience I’ve had for a long time.” Maureen Corrigan, NPR’s “Fresh Air with Terry Gross”
“[Leaving the Atocha Station is] hilarious and cracklingly intelligent, fully alive and original in every sentence, and abuzz with the feel of our late-late-modern moment. . . . Jonathan Franzen in The Guardian’s Books of the Year 2011
"[A] remarkable first novel . . . intensely and unusually brilliant."The Guardian
"Utterly charming. Lerner’s self-hating, lying, overmedicated, brilliant fool of a hero is a memorable character, and his voice speaks with a music distinctly and hilariously all his own.” Paul Auster
“Leaving the Atocha Station is a marvelous novel, not least because of the magical way that it reverses the postmodernist spell, transmuting a fraudulent figure into a fully dimensional and compelling character.”The Wall Street Journal
“Lerner’s prose, at once precise and swerving, propels the book in lieu of a plot and creates an experience of something [main character Adam] Gordon criticizes more heavily plotted books of failing to capture: “the texture of time as it passed, life’s white machine.”The Daily Beast
“[A] noteworthy debut . . . . Lerner has fun with the interplay between the unreliable spoken word and subtleties in speech and body language, capturing the struggle of a young artist unsure of the meaning or value of his art. . . . Lerner succeeds in drawing out the problems inherent in art, expectation, and communication.”Publishers Weekly
“Ben Lerner’s first novel, coming on the heels of three outstanding poetry collections, is a darkly hilarious examination of just how self-conscious, miserable, and absurd one man can be. . . . Lerner’s writing [is] beautiful, funny, and revelatory.”Deb Olin Unferth, Bookforum
“. . . Leaving the Atocha Station is as much an apologia for poetry as it is a novel. Lerner’s ability to accomplish both projects at once is a marvel. His sense of narrative forward motion and his penchant for rumination are kept in constant competition with one another, so that neither is allowed to keep the upper hand for long. Leaving the Atocha Station is a novel for poets, liars, and equivocatorsthat is, for aspects of us all. It is also a poem, dedicated to the gulf between self and selfego and alter ego, “true me” and “false me,” present self and outgrown past.”Open Letters Monthly
“If Bolaño was yesterday’s drug of choicedeluding us with youth, intoxicating us with a sense of literature’s wilder, life-altering capacitiesLerner could be, should be, tomorrow’s homegrown equivalent. . . . Leaving the Atocha Station is avant slackerism as its best. It’s heartening to know that someone of my generation is writing with such heart, such head, and so personally.”Joshua Cohen, The Faster Times
“The first novel from Ben Lerner, a finalist for the National Book Award in poetry, explores with humor and depth what everyone assumes is OK to overlook. . . . Ben Lerner’s phrases meander, unconcerned tourists, taking exotic day trips to surprising clauses before returning to their familiar hostels of subject and predicate. . . . [A]n honest, exciting account of what it’s like to be a fairly regular guy in fairly regular circumstances . . . [and] somehow it’s more incredible, and more modern a dilemma, than the explosives.”Minneapolis Star Tribune
“I admire Ben’s poetry, but I love to death his new book, Leaving the Atocha Station. Ben Lerner’s novel . . . ‘chronicles the endemic disease of our time: the difficulty of feeling. . .’ [A] significant book.”David Shields, Los Angeles Review of Books
“In his adroitly interiorized first novel . . . Lerner makes this tale of a nervous young artist abroad profoundly evocative by using his protagonist’s difficulties with Spanish, fear of creativity, and mental instability to cleverly, seductively, and hilariously investigate the nature of language and storytelling, veracity and fraud. As Adam’s private fears are dwarfed by terrorist train attacks, Lerner casts light on how we must constantly rework the narrative of our lives to survive and flourish.”Donna Seaman, Booklist
"Leaving the Atocha Station is, among other things, a character-driven ‘page-turner’ and a concisely definitive study of the “actual” versus the ‘virtual’ as applied to relationships, language, poetry, experience. It’s funny and affecting and as meticulous and “knowing” in its execution of itself, I feel, as Ben’s poetry collections are.”Tao Lin, The Believer
“Lerner, himself an Ivy League poet and National Book Award finalist who once spent time in Madrid on a prestigious fellowship, wrestles well with absence as an event. . . . The combination of tension and languor, grounded by sensual details, recalls Javier Marías.”Time Out New York
“[Leaving the Atocha Station is remarkable for its ability to be simultaneously warm, ruminative, heart-breaking, and funny.”Shelf Unbound
“[Leaving the Atocha Station] is compelling; it’s jarring and painful as it is darkly funny. Lerner writes with the neurotic detachment characteristic of many of his contemporaries. . . . [T]he result is funny, insightful, honest, and very entertaining.”Explosion-Proof
“Perhaps it’s because there’s so much skepticism surrounding the novel-by-poet that, when it’s successful, it’s such a cause for celebration. Some prime examples of monumental novels by poets and about poets (but not just for poets) are Boris Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago, Roberto Bolaño’s The Savage Detectives, and Rainer Maria Rilke’s The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge. Now, let us celebrate another of their rank: Ben Lerner’s Leaving the Atocha Station.”The Jewish Daily Forward
"An extraordinary novel about the intersections of art and reality in contemporary life." John Ashbery
“Acclaimed poet Ben Lerner’s first novel is a fascinating and often brilliant investigation of the distance (or the communication) between experience and art. . . . Rendering its subject from just about every angle, Leaving the Atocha Station becomes something close to highly self-aware, to something poetic.” Zyzzyva
“Last night I started Ben Lerner’s novel “Leaving the Atocha Station.’’ By page three it was clear I was either staying up all night or putting the novel away until the weekend. I’m still angry with myself for having slept.” Stacy Schiff
“... Leaving the Atocha Station is an addictively readable postmodern exploration of meaning and communication, and the failure of both." Art Info
"The writing -fluid, sharp, and fast- pulls you along, rarely stumbling. Lerner understands human interaction with unusual clarity and for the egotistical Adam, every conversation is a sparring match. . .[T]he effect is striking and, unexpectedly comforting."-Iberosphere
"Linguistically, Leaving the Atocha Station is one of the most remarkable books I have read this year. Lerner is a poet, but this isn't a "poetic novel", by which I mean the kind of work where mellifluous description acts as a kind of literary toupee. Lerner's poetry manifests itself in elegantly stilted grammar, in contradiction and self-cancellation, is painfully self-aware self-mirroring and especially in misunderstanding ... The camber of Adam's thoughts is conveyed with astonishing grace." The Scotsman
"I did love this debut novel by a young poet . . . which takes place at the time of the 2004 Madrid subway bombings and channels W.G. Sebald in [a] way that's far more interesting, for my money, than another Sebaldian homage published the same year." Publishers Weekly
"I was both amused and appalled by the anti-hero of Ben Lerner's Leaving the Atocha Station"The Guardian
"In his first novel,Leaving the Atocha Station, Lerner makes a kind of refined comedy out of his grad student narrator's gnawing sense of his own inauthenticity."The New Statesman
"The sharpest and funniest novel I read this year."The Daily Mail, chosen by Craig Brown
"Nothing but quoting lengthy passages of various chapters could begin to convey how hilarious it is to watch [Adam] try to figure out what his new friends are saying to him."The Leo Weekly (Louisville, KT), "Winter's Guide 2012: Fireside Fiction"
"I absolutely adored this book. . . . Almost every page has a dog-earable moment."Minnesota Reads
"I really liked Ben Lerner's Leaving the Atocha Station. . . .It is incredibly smart. It's terrifying how smart this author is."Miami Herald, "What are you reading now?" with Jess Walter, author of Beautiful Ruins
"The prose is mesmerizing...a fairly astonishing large achievement of poetic voice and diction."Circular Breathing
"[An] impressively verisimilar account of ennui and alienation in...our post-9/11 world."Bookriot, "Read This Then That"
"Leaving the Atocha Station gets to the heart of this fact of our existence. It captures the complex relationship we have with art, with faith, with love, and with life, and it does so with wit, honesty and grace."The Huffington Post
"Leaving the Atocha Station, an American-abroad novel by the poet Ben Lerner, reaches 'for what cannot be disclosed or confessed in narrative."The New York Times, mention in "The Wayward Essay"
"The two achievements that push Leaving the Atocha Station into must-read territory are its antihero narrator and the almost kinetic nature of its prose...[T]he author fills the pages with an electric, commanding prose that turns into everything the reader needs."Verbicide
"'In my continued, mostly futile, campaign to offer various children, nieces and nephews an alternative to vampires and wizards,' he wrote, 'I'll be giving...Ben Lerner's smart, ruminating novel, Leaving the Atocha Station...'"The New York Times, "Inside the List"
"That monster of overprivilege and overeducation ends up being genuinely sympathetic, and that a book that has serious questions to ask about the place of art in our virtually anesthetized world is consistently laugh-out-loud funny, are testaments to Ben Lerner's dazzling prose, which switches effortlessly from deadpan to ironic to salty to tragic and back again. "The Millions, "A Year in Reading: Paul Murray"
"I loved Ben Lerner's Leaving the Atocha Station. It fits into the category I like to call 'the perfect little novel.'"Buzzfeed, "The Best Books We Read in 2012"
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Lots of self indulgent characters in search of more self indulgence. I hoped someone would see reality, but no one did. Not worth the effort!
A painfully self conscious attempt to turn a poetic phrase on every page, the book is a tedious slog through pseudo-intellectual narcisism. A perfect reflection of its era. The critics who called this book "funny" need to find other work.
I hated the very shallow and immature main character, but I kept reading hoping something would improve. It didn't.
The narrator gives us beautifully phrased and subtle observations of his inner state, which is clouded, or perhaps clarified, by hashish, psychiatric meds and other drugs. The motives of others and the state of things around him remain mysterious. The randomness of events in the story and the self-absorption of the narrator tried my patience at times, but I stuck with it because of the author's eye for detail and gift for capturing states of mind in prose. I'm glad I did. Our hero seems to have learned something by the end.
Ben Lerner's debut novel is an often very funny chronicle of a young American writer living and working in Spain on a poetry fellowship. Adam Gordon's project proposal has been accepted by the fellowship awards committee and he finds himself in Madrid, in the period leading up to the March 2004 national elections, where he is expected to produce work of publishable quality. Instead of working diligently on his poetry however, he drifts from one day to the next partying with new friends, falling in love and getting high. In the wake of the March 11 train bombings, he begins to suspect that he is a fraud and that poetry itself is an exhausted medium. Can poetry influence political outcomes? Does an ignorant young American with no life experience have any right to comment on Spanish politics? These are questions that he grapples with as he entertains serious doubts with regard to both his talent and his aesthetic intentions. To his amazement, however, the work he produces is taken seriously by the very people whose opinions matter the most. Adam's voyage of self-discovery through Spanish culture frequently goes off the rails, and Ben Lerner's prose--steeped in irony--seems to call into question the validity of all art. Leaving the Atocha Station is a comic novel for the serious reader; or, to put it another way, it is a serious novel with a comic vibe that challenges the reader to consider art in new ways. It is also vastly entertaining and nothing less than a triumph.
While I found this book to be somewhat enjoyable, it is not one I would read a second time. I feel that the storyline was good but the reading itself was too narrative for my taste. I like a book with more dialogue and less narrative. For those who do like a book with a lot of narrative though, this one would be a good choice. The storyline flows smoothly, I just wish there had been more dialogue in this one as I have a hard time "getting to know the characters" when they aren't speaking much. You definitely getting a good sense of the main character but I'm disappointed in the other characters in the book. Overall, not bad, though.
Moody, style-driven novel about a student living on a fellowship in Spain, writing poetry, doing drugs and negotiating relationships with women. It's told in the first person by Adam, the student, and covers his adventures and his thoughts about literature, politics and life. The 2004 Madrid bombings occur during his stay; he's a witness, though the events don't seem to shake him up very much. I enjoyed the book as the self-consciously literary prose poem it is but it's short on plot and is more a series of reflections and moods and less a narrative, although the character does narrate a certain period in his life. Lerner does a nice job capturing the experience of being an American living abroad, the sense of alienation, the sense of detachment and foreign-ness that comes with living on the periphery of a place and a group of people. Adam tries to ingratiate himself into the local literary scene, something that only happens by chance as he attaches himself to a group of strangers at a bar who turn out to be artists, writers and gallery people. Through it all he never loses his sense of separateness and it's this that's communicated so beautifully to the reader.
This is not a book to pick up if you are in a mood for a quick read, a suspenseful, plot driven novel - if you aren't in a mood to enjoy Ben Lerner's lovely prose and to sit back and think about what he is writing, then wait to start Leaving the Atocha Station until you are, so you don't miss out on a very good book. Personally, I tend to be more of a plot driven reader so I do know what I'm talking about here. I started reading this and found my mind was zooming way to fast and there were too many other things I could be doing to really get into this book. For many of us, it's not one you pick up and then don't go to sleep until you finish it. Two things stopped me from putting it in my big pile of books to be read some other time though. First, I received this advanced reader copy as a lovely gift through the early reader program at GoodReads.com and I felt some obligation to give it a solid chance to be at least read. Second, and more importantly, even from the very beginning I could see how very wonderful Lerner's style of writing was. It was like reading waves of words. I found it funny as well, especially when the the protagonist, Adam Gordon, is trying to follow Spanish conversations and listing all the things that might or might not have been said.The plot itself is disjointed and nearly nonexistent. I started to slow down a little but then I started to realize this book was a modern version of the philosophy books I had read in school - I think therefore I am and whatnot. Adam Gordon, for a variety of reasons, has completely dissociated himself from his emotions and circumstances - he struggles with whether he really is a part of life, whether anyone is, maybe whether life is real itself. Age-old questions presented in terms of the modern condition, as people isolate themselves from who they really are and those who surround them with the help of mind and mood altering medications and too much time spent looking at computers rather than the world around them. At least, that's what I got out of the book anyway.I liked it - I recommend it.
I won this book on Library Thing member giveaway and I really did not like it. The main character, Adam is a poetry student living in Spain. As I was reading this, I kept loosing interest with it and it never did get better for me.
Depressive and hope it wasn't autobio. Buska