2666
I’m about 50 pages into 2666, a heavy 900+ page galley that I’ve been toting back and forth from home to office because I can’t bear the thought of being without it. Galley separation anxiety? The galley itself is beautiful, printed on that thin cream-colored paper that feels expensive under your fingertips, while the cover is made of coarse brown material similar to that of a grocery bag, with “2666” in bloody red lettering. The epigraph: “An oasis of horror in a desert of boredom.” Baudelaire.
It’s not a purely sensual, of course—if that were my thing, I’d work for, er, a paper factory or something like that. From the first time I read Bolaño I had that spine-thrill (also where Nabokov situated it) that is our visceral reflex-response to writing that is not just good, but magical. The recognition is highly subjective, but many readers will feel it. Bolaño is incredibly erudite–he spent his thirties wandering, working odd jobs and reading—and though he wears his knowledge lightly, he uses it to situate his characters (in Part 1, minor German literature academics) in relation to, say, William James, or the Odyssey. It’s delightful, for example, both epic and accessible, when an aging professor is, as an aside, likened to Eurylochus. Bolaño is a generous guide, retelling the stories in his own fashion, implying that we all have the right to draw from this common store of lore and literature. And Bolaño is a master storyteller, nestling stories within stories, revealing some characters motivations but tantalizingly withholding others (“it would be best not to say what Norton was thinking” –approximate quote only), pausing to describe the night sky in a way that is completely original and that reminds one that, yes, he is also a poet. And he writes passionately. There’s a conviction that language and stories are all-important. It’s contagious. Thus I’ve been keeping the galley close by me, as if it were some kind of religious relic whose power might save me from –.
I’ll have more to say later, but nothing negative for now—I’m too much in thrall.
