The Same City

July 13, 2015
In this slim novel, prolific Spanish writer Martin’s unnamed narrator tells the melancholy story of a man dissatisfied with his life in New York City, who impulsively seizes a chance to reinvent himself and create a new life from the chaos of the horrific terrorist attacks on Sept. 11, 2001. At age 41, Brandon Moy hates his job, is bored with his family, and has lost interest in everything. He is overwhelmed by middle age, believing that “happiness becomes an issue that only pertains to other people.” With his office destroyed and all his coworkers killed in the collapse of the Twin Towers, he sees this as his opportunity to disappear, then reappear as someone else, to pursue all the excitement and adventures he thinks will make him happy. Brandon is a pampered, soft attorney, ill-equipped to start from scratch, but he hitchhikes to Boston and gets a job as a waiter in a diner—he also commits crimes to survive. He’s handsome, charming, and a skilled liar, and soon he is involved with numerous women, using them for pleasure, shelter, and money. As the years go by and Brandon travels internationally, Martin continues to peel back the layers of his persona—his fears and the elusive dream of happiness—resulting in a fascinating, vivid portrayal of a midlife crisis that threatens to turn into a perpetual crisis.

July 1, 2015
A Manhattan attorney uses the confusion and grief surrounding a terrorist attack to disappear from his uneventful life. In this translation of his 2013 short novel, Martin (Woman in Darkness, 2014, etc.) offers up a fable about deferred dreams, the ambiguity of one's true self, and the pursuit of happiness. Writing in his own voice, the novelist tells the story of a man named Brandon Moy, whom he met at a literary conference in Spain in 2008. On Sept. 10, 2001, prompted by a chance encounter with an old friend, 41-year-old Moy takes stock of his unimaginative marriage and his dreary job managing legal affairs in the twin towers of the World Trade Center. Seeing his friend, Albert Fergus, confronts Moy with memories of all the dreams he once held: to play the saxophone, to write, and to lead an adventurous life. When the terrorist strike kills everyone in his office, Moy (who was late getting to work) throws away his wallet, smashes his cellphone, and takes to the road. "Leaving someone is a betrayal," Moy thinks. "Dying, on the other hand, is not." He first travels to Boston, where he takes on the name of Albert Tracy, works in a coffee shop, beds a widow, and reinvents himself. Traveling to Bogota and later to Spain, Brandon/Albert takes drugs, sleeps with many women, has a gay experience, races cars, and eventually becomes a highly respected poet and intellectual. While Martin's writing is elegant, the wish fulfillment that drives Moy's alter ego is wildly indulgent and unrealistic to the point of caricature. Worse, the novel doesn't even follow through on its whimsical premise. After a brutal racing accident, Brandon wakes to find he has little memory of Albert's incredible adventures and ultimately opts to return to his life in Manhattan. The book is meant to be a contemplation on the nature of happiness-the title comes from a postcard Brandon sends the author, reading only, "It's always the same city, but sometimes the roads are more beautiful"-but readers are likely to find it more of a trifle. A gracefully composed but emotionally empty reflection on middle-age crazy.

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