Roberto Bolaño (1953–2003)

Perhaps what's more interesting about Bolaño is the world he sees, including what we may call the "mind", or "psychology". Nocturno de Chile is a portrait of himself and his love of literature and the arts in general (as is every single book by him), but it is also a diffuse picture of latinity - a property that makes the book all the more accurate for how difficult this so-called latinity is to describe. An unknown identity shaped by little pieces of a complex puzzle: ancestrality, religion, imperialism. And first and foremost, the failure of religion in its men, for this book in particular

That said, another thing Bolaño excels at is at writing. Because the thing is, he really does love reading. This dense monologue makes you wonder if he's read Bernhard, which probably didn't happen, because if it did, he would tell you. He tells you his influences like you're also part of his circle and knows these people casually, and it is because of his fascination for books that each one of his own is narratively unique. Nocturno de Chile invites you to read fast, to become the protagonist as he reminisces of his acquaintances - your familiars, and, if you're a catholic or latinamerican, to discuss with your own wizened youth.… (mere)

"An Oasis of horror amidst an ocean of tedium"

There is nothing unfinished about 2666. Upon Bolaño's death, the first four parts were already finished and the last was only being reviewed. Furthermore, the parts are much better read as a single piece.

2666 is a book that challenges definitions due to its radical approach to the genre. The bulk of its narrative does not contain any of the traditional elements of familiarity inherent to romances prior to it: there is no hero's journey, no central conflict permeating all of its parts, and most of it does not seem to lead to any sort of catharsis. This book abandons any sort of pathos in favor of the display of several disparate ethos that can be interpreted in more than one way. For instance, the part on the crimes is deeply political, having been based on real occurrences on the real Ciudad Juárez - it is a display of violence that invites the reader to think of the capitalist relationships between first and third-world countries, the communist purge and a passion for horror, all of which are ingrained in the current latin america.

It is this very characteristic that makes readers who do not immediately realize what the book is about disappointed when not finding sufficient answers at the end. 2666 is not about answers. It is not even about questions, in a sense. It simply is. It is a post-modern monument that twists the idea of a romance and delivers answers only where they are pertinent. We can draw a parallel with a human life where one is confined to one's own perspective of the world, filtering information through a peculiar ethos built upon one's culture, given each part of the book happens on a different place with different people. We are shown that seeing the same period through the lenses of individuals from three different continents does not suffice to build a complete picture of the world as experienced by the author. Some parts are clarified, others wait on the future for a resolution. A resolution on the year 2666 where all of the involved parties are already dead?

But six centuries from now, not only would it not matter, but it would not be possible to come to a complete panorama of the story. Because one could also interpret 2666 as an attempt to communicate the human condition of never truly knowing the world we live in. But a world in which one can still find meaning - again, it is about the path, not the ending. Not walking in a particular path, but simply being in a path at all. That's how the book should be read. Every path is filled with coincidences and seemingly random encounters, ruled by the logic of chances, filled with human values from which one can apprehend - morals, culture, values. It is a path filled with meditations and emblematic moments, and also with the most prosaic of daily life.

It is hard to see at first how Bolaño would write so many descriptions of seemingly banal activities while considering himself a poet first and foremost, but when the reader is accustomed to his style, it all flows very mellifluously. The dry style gives way to the possibility of either searching for a real meaning or accepting it how it is. Just like how the story itself is left open at various ends, waiting for a closure that never happens. And so the final stroke of genius lies on the last part, that elucidates part of the earlier Sonora narratives while still keeping the sense of incompleteness that permeates the rest of the book.

"No one pays attention to these murders, but within them hides the secret to the world."… (mere)

Things will never work out between Bolano and me. I do recognize his writing talent, his enormous erudition and his creative handling of literary legacies. This short story certainly proves that. It is a retrospective of a Chilean Opus Dei priest on his deathbed, a long, messy last breath so to speak, actually 1 paragraph written in stream-of-consciousness, mainly focusing on the literary world of Chile (Bolano's homeland). Bolano juggles with covert and overt references, in an endless stream of memories and stories, which mainly expose the hypocrisy of the Chilean elite (including literati), even dictator Pinochet appears briefly on the scene. Absolutely relevant, this satire. This is he kind of book that certainly can blow you away, but to me its trance-like narrative style and the messy accumulation of story elements are a bit too excessive to really stick.… (mere)