Although I read it years ago, I’m still bothered by a scene in Paul Auster’s Oracle Night in which his protagonist wrote a story about a man visiting Kansas City from Brooklyn, who is accidentally locked in a former bomb shelter full of collected old phone books. He’s calm, thinking the owner of the shelter will soon return, not realizing that his would-be hero has just died in the hospital. And then the light bulb burns out.
For years, I’ve been fretting about the state of a fictional character’s fictional character. But now, I no longer have to worry. Because I’ve watched this trailer for The Jaguar’s Children by John Vaillant several times, I have something new to haunt me.