Describing what’s impossible – “Mr. Vertigo”

For a writer to describe something impossible or inconceivable, they might use metaphors, similes, understatement, incomplete phrases, invented words, blank spaces, ellipses…

Science Fiction writers often have that problem, and writers of Realistic or Hard Sci-Fi need to be particularly adept at describing things that do not (yet) exist. William Gibson, for instance, coined the term “cyberspace” for “widespread, interconnected digital technology” in his short story “Burning Chrome” (1982). He made up the term. There was no such word before he made it up, but after the success of his story, it slowly came into use. Now, it just a normal term.

So, what did Paul Auster (1947 – 2024) do when it came to describing the impossible thing that forms the crux of his 1994 novel, Mr. Vertigo?

*Mr. Vertigo*, by Paul Auster, originally published in 1994 by Faber and Faber.

Describe something that is impossible

Mr. Vertigo is about a street kid who becomes famous for being able to actually fly, walk on air, and levitate – all by himself. No crookery, no magic, no sleight-of-hand, no stagecraft, no CGI. The novel has other themes, but the dilemma of orphaned “Walt” is that the very thing that he learns to do, which saves him from starvation and abuse, is the thing that can kill him, and almost does. It’s about that old adage of; be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

Auster tells the story most engagingly. It reads well. You follow Walt’s relationship with “Master Yehudi”, his trainer and manager, and you set aside your suspension of disbelief for the most part. You see Walt becoming a man. The suspense builds and the moment approaches. Haven’t you ever dreamed you could fly? Remember the sensation? Disbelief, joy, freedom, all combined, and then you wake up?

Like in a dream, foreshadowings of that moment in the story can be inferred and hinted at. But there has to be a moment when Walt actually levitates, and, to be convincing, it has to be unambiguous and direct. Here it is, 62 pages into the 293 pp. novel:

“There was no more tears to be gotten out of me – only a dry, choked heaving, an aftermath of the hiccups and scorched, airless breaths. Presently I grew still, almost tranquil, and bit by bit a sense of calm spread through me, radiating out among my muscles and oozing towards the tips of my fingers and toes. There were no more thoughts in my head, no more feelings in my heart. I was weightless inside my own body, floating on a placid wave of nothingness, utterly detached and indifferent to the world around me.

And that’s when I did it for the first time – without warning, without the least notion that it was about to happen. Very slowly, I felt my body rise off the floor. The movement was so natural, so exquisite in its gentleness, it wasn’t until I opened my eyes that I understood my limbs were touching only air. I was not far off the ground – no more than an inch or two – but I hung there without effort, suspended like the moon in the night sky, motionless and aloft, conscious only of the air fluttering in and out of my lungs.

I can’t say how long I hovered like that, but at a certain moment, with the same slowness and gentleness as before, I eased back to the ground.”

(Photo of Paul Auster from Al Majalla Magazine, “US writer Paul Auster looks on in Lyon on January 16, 2018.” Photo by Jeff Pachoud/AFP. Extract from Mr. Vertigo, by Paul Auster, Penguin Books, 1995, p. 62)

Strangely beautiful, isn’t it? After this, Walt learns to hover at will, longer, higher, faster, with movement, across empty spaces, until he actually flies. Imagine having that sense of nothingness upon which gravity has no effect. The description works for me, and ever since I read it the first time, I’ve imagined that this is what flying without wings – without any aids – is like. Or what being weightless in a spaceship in outer space could feel like.

This is why I keep a copy of Mr. Vertigo in my book collection. I enjoy reading Auster’s vivid descriptions of impossible things, such as walking on air. I wonder how he knew?