I first read Paul Auster when I was at university. A tutor recommended The Music of Chance, I think, and I ended up reading all of his stuff in one of those bursts of love you sometimes get for writers. Then, I sort of dropped out of the Auster business. At the beginning of lockdown, I re-read Leviathan, on a whim, and didn’t love it. I re-read The New York Trilogy, which I had adored the first time around, and thought it was fine.