The Fortress of Solitude Paperback – August 24, 2004

A FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE has been praised in nearly every literary magazine and media form with so much adulation that it seems like a daunting read. And it is. Jonathan Lethem does not believe in letting his reader speed-read the thoughts he has so obviously and painstakingly scribed. For starters this book is 511 pages long - and those pages are on thin paper with small font and mini-margins: this is a major undertaking. But Lethem grabs us so tightly with his eloquent prose and picturesque/picaresque atmosphere that once past the first few pages we are his captives.The story is one of childhood alienation, young lads groping for identity in Brooklyn in the period from 1970 through the 1990s. Dean Street is an African American and Puerto Rican ghetto into which is dropped the nearly solitary white kid Dylan Ebdus. Parented by a strange couple (who in so many ways represent the history of American art in that period), Dylan gradually finds his soul mate Mingus Rude, an African American offspring of drug abusing musicians. The hidden loveliness of Lethem's epic includes the closeness of these two, working out their confrontation with the world by using comic book superhero magic via a ring from Aeroman (in reality a street person they think can fly) which places this adventure metaphorically with other epics like The Ring of the Niebelungen and the Tolkien Ring stories. These boys are lovers for all intents and purposes (even Mingus' father walks in on them during a sexual encounter and treats it with respect). But here all is not fastasy but is instead more grit. The three decades see Dylan pursue college in Vermont and then California while Mingus falls into the trap of crime, killing his own grandfather, and spends the better part this time in jail. It is the final working out of the destinies of these two boys that makes this story not only work but makes it significant in American literature. Many analogies to Huck Finn/Tom Sawyer etc pairings are being touted by readers and those can only be compliments. Lethem lets us learn about street life in Brooklyn - the good and the bad - and also about the history of drugs in America and a solid history of the various movements in popular music and in art.And it is lies the reviewer's conundrum: Lethem can become tedious and self-indulgent, seeming to be bent on destroying the architecture of his own molding. It would have been possible, no - preferable - to confine this story to around 300 pages. At times Lethem perserverates on a topic that is not additive to his story but seems more like establishing his credentials as a "with it writer" and an expert on jive and hiphop dialogue, and pop music scholar. But stay with him (even though the temptation to just speed through copious pages of redundant detail is strong) and in the end, in the last few chapters of the book he pulls every thread together in a cat's purse of intrigue and love that makes the arduous journey to that point well work the effort. An example: "For so long I'd thought that Abraham's [his painter father] legacy was mine: to retreat upstairs, unable or unwilling to sing or fly, only to compile and collect, to sculpt statues of my lost friends, life's real actors , in my Fortress of Solitude." But read the rest for yourself: no one can do this work - or this joy - for you.

I liked this book. But it was painful to read. I moved to Brooklyn recently and read this book during one of my first months here and I loved learning about the place that I moved to; but the history here is so incredibly dark (along with this book) that I cannot say that I was particularly uplifted.I think the greatest flaw of this book is not it's pace, but it's finish. It just ends. The "climax" is weak and unsatisfying. I'm left really wishing that something more happened at the end to sort of either (1) lighten the mood of a dark book, or (2) at least give a sense of closure. I spent so much time investing in these characters, and I don't get to see what happens to them in an real, concrete way? Come on!Oh well. I understand that this book is supposed to be somewhat autobiographical, but really, is life so hard and sad? There's little focus on any of the good that may happen in one's life; but maybe that's the point of a cynical author, hardened by the life of being a successful author and having to do book reading tours in all of America's fanciest bookstores. Life is hard when you don't have enough time to run into the Whole Foods to buy an organic bottle of Pinot Grigio before your adoring fans are awaiting your completely apathetic book signing.Anyways, yes, the book is incredibly beautiful, and I almost feel guilty writing that and giving the book a four star review. It is worth reading, just keep your expectations low for the end. Take joy in the rich, textured journey, don't dwell on the destination, since it's more or less an Oz-wizard-like hidden man of a finish. But yes, the journey is incredible. Such a vivid portrayal of an incredibly interesting place, 1970's Brooklyn. Reading it I wish I had been able to see it, just for a day or two. But reading "The Fortress of Solitude" almost counts.

Great book

Great product

Perfect in Every way

It took me a long time to read through to the end.But more I reflect on characters and the era and the angles , the more I appreciate the experience.

Wonderfully evocative of New York in the 70s. Also great because I love most of the music thats mentioned in the book.