"This seemingly abstract panic, the panic of not dreaming, suffuses ''Oracle Night'' and, paradoxically, gives it its lifeblood. Without this anxiety, ''Oracle Night'' would be a cool game, but it succeeds as something much richer precisely because it acknowledges, constantly, the possibility of its own failure. Behind every deft story-within-a-story lies the pungent claustrophobia of a man who fears he will cleverly lock himself into a room with no way out (and there is, of course, a story about a man who has cleverly locked himself into just such a room), where no one can hear you talk. Auster generously tips his hand here. He suggests that the terror of not being heard lies at the heart of writing, and that the artistic impulse generally might be summed up as: Somebody say something; 1 a.m., 2 a.m. -- just keep talking. That a man who has produced more than 25 books is willing to convey the visceral ping of that terror is evidence not only of his talent but of his grace."
