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When I pick up a novel by Paul Auster or Haruki Murakami say, I have no idea what they are going to be about. I pick them up just because they are by Paul Auster or Haruki Murakami and I am interested in engaging with a text upon which they have brought their particular skill to bear. It really doesn't matter whether it's about a man finding himself in a room without explanation or a young girl in a cafe who has a comatose sister.
There is a sense in which Philip Roth always writes about the same thing - the same sense in which Tolstoy always writes about Russia - but in neither case does dismissing theses writers on those grounds rise above the level of critique equivalent to "I don't like him because I think he's rubbish". Which, of course, may be true and may provide a perfectly valid reason for you to choose not to read him, but hardly constitutes a reasoned contribution to critical discussion.
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