From one of the most original writers now at work, an expansive,
learned, and utterly charming reverie on what it means to be lost
in a book. . Louis Menand, writing in The New Yorker , called
Geoffrey O'Brien's The Phantom Empire "a prose poem about the
pleasures and distractions of movie-watching," "an ambitiously
literary attempt to write about the [mystery of the] medium as
though it were a dream the author had just awakened from." Now, in
The Browser's Ecstasy , O'Brien has written a prose poem about
reading, a playful, epigrammatic nocturne upon the dream-state one
falls into when "lost in a book," upon the uncanny, trancelike
pleasure of making silent marks on paper utter sounds inside one's
head. We call The Browser's Ecstasy a "Meditation on Reading," but
like any truly original book-and especially the short book that
goes both far and deep-it resists easy summary and classification.
As Luc Sante once wrote, "The density of O'Brien's work makes word
count irrelevant as an index of substance; he is seemingly capable
of compressing entire encyclopedias into his parenthetical asides.
I defy you to name any precedent for what he does. He's a school
unto himself."
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