Roberto Bolano's "Ambiguities"

Roberto Bolano

This morning's NY Times treats us to a brief article, "A Chilean Writer’s Fictions Might Include His Own Colorful Past," meaning of course, that some people think that Mr. Bolano was/was not a heroin user and was/was not in Chile on 9/11/73. It's hard to weigh in for either side of either question. Bolano was playing with what I call "faction," mixing fact and fiction, and he was not alone in Latin American fiction of the late 20th century to say that a piece of fiction was actually written by someone else (Ricardo Piglia wrote a piece by Roberto Arlt) or to create "ambiguities" (Juan Carlos Onetti seems to have reveled in this) about what was fact and what was fiction.

Part of the controversy might be financially motivated, an attempt to sell even more books-- "2666", published in English in 2008, and "Savage Detectives," published in English in 2007, both received wonderful reviews-- books to those who would like to speculate about the facts and hunt for clues:

But his widow, from whom he was separated at the time of his death, and Andrew Wylie, the American agent she recently hired after distancing herself from Mr. Bolaño’s friends, editors and publisher, are now challenging part of that image. They dispute the idea, originally suggested by Mr. Bolaño himself, endorsed by his American translator and mentioned in several of the rapturous recent reviews of “2666” in the United States, that he ever “had a heroin habit,” that his death was “traceable to heroin use” or even that he had “an acquaintance with heroin.”

The heroin controversy is fueled by a piece Bolano submitted to a Spanish magazine in response to a request for stories about the worst summer in his life. Others who submitted submitted autobiographical sketches. Was Bolano's, which by all accounts resembed Jack Kerouac's "On The Road"?

And the question of whether he was in Chile or still in Mexico City when he said or let others say he was in Santiago is based on friends in Mexico City and Chile who say he was/ was not actually with them or didn't know what he should have known about Chile if he had actually been there.

Roberto Fresan, interviewed by the Times, summarized the situation perfectly:

Rodrigo Fresán, an Argentine novelist living in Barcelona, said, “Roberto’s biography is going to be interesting to read, and I am thankful that I was only his friend and not the one who is going to have to write it.” Somewhat ruefully, others who know Mr. Bolaño only from his work have come to the same conclusion.

How Did We Get Here?

Lately, the Dream Antilles has been about Guantanamo and torture. How did that happen? And isn't this, after all, supposed to be a lit blog? You know, a blog about books and literature and writing and fiction. Well, to be honest, the narrator here has a pebble in his shoe, a burr under his saddle. He's annoyed and irritated about torture. Of all things. So, of course, that expresses itself here. And alas, it's likely to continue to come up because your narrator doesn't seem to know how to ameliorate his aggravation. He keeps on ranting. He insists on posting essays on dKos and docuDharma about torture. Then he complains bitterly about the comments the supposedly liberal people at dKos post about his essays. He doesn't receive such a nettlesome response at docuDharma. He says he feels like his hair's on fire. Put another way, the narrator of this blog thought he was beginning a digression about torture, but now it's a whole, full time topic by itself, and he doesn't remember exactly what he was saying before he began meandering. Among the questions he has is why most people in the US, let alone Senators Joe Lieberman and John McCain, aren't apparently bothered by torture. Is it your narrator's job to continue to rage and prod on torture until something changes?

Meanwhile, he finished reading Roberto Bolano's The Savage Detectives, which has fourteen different narrators. And at least two characters (Garcia Madero and Arturo Belano) who are autobiographical Bolanos. The book is about a circle of "visceral realist" poets in Mexico City and takes place also in Northern Mexico, Spain, Israel, and elsewhere. He enjoyed it thoroughly. Let me repeat that Bolano, it seems, has 14 narrators, each of which is convincing. Meanwhile, in your narrator's current writing project, his one narrator is having trouble finding and maintaining his voice. Bolano had an embarrassment of riches. Your humble narrator is toiling away, and his narrator is making his skin itch.

Your humble narrator also finished reading Junot Diaz's The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, which has one narrator, Yunior, who goes from omniscient to being a character in the novel. This is actually a pleasure. Yunior begins outside this historical story of the Dominican diaspora in New Jersey and the DR, but emerges later as Oscar's roommate and Oscar's sister's lover. Oscar Wao, by the way, is supposed to be a Spanglish mispronunciation of "Oscar Wilde." Because Trujillo is so important to the plot (not to worry it will not be given away here) parts of the book resemble aspects of Vargas Llosa's The Feast of the Goat and Julia Alvarez's In the Time of the Butterflies, but Diaz's story takes all of that to a different level. Diaz's narrator is charming, authoritative, smart, literary, funny, sly. Your narrator's narrator in progress, on the other hand , just isn't. At least not yet.

Both Bolano and Diaz are great reads, and both were recognized by being included in many lists of the Best Books of 2007.

Meanwhile, your narrator is stuck. He remains bothered by torture and his narrator's voice's lack of conviction and consistency. He hopes that things will improve on both fronts soon, but he's not holding his breath. Winter seems interminable.

Conflicted

I'll keep this short. I want to read Roberto Bolano's new book The Savage Detectives. Really I do. I love Latin American literature. And Amazon says this big novel is one of the top ten novels for 2007. But there's a small problem. And it's not the author's fault.

Friday I was in Ithaca, New York. I stopped in the Cornell Store and saw that they were selling the book for the list price, $27.00. This seems like a lot of money for a book, even though it's new and hardcover and I want it. When I got home, I found in my email box an advertisement from Amazon offering me this very book at 40% off, for $16.20. And I could get free shipping if my order totaled $25.00. How could this be? I wondered.

So I went to abebooks.com, my favorite used online bookseller, and I found used copies of the book beginning at $16.79 plus shipping. In other words, the used books (probably review copies) were more expensive than the new book from Amazon delivered to my mailbox.

I want to support my local, independent bookseller. That would be The Bookstore in Lenox, Massachusetts, which has been a community institution for more than thirty years. I love that bookstore. I have given readings there. I have attended readings there. Matthew, the owner, has good wine at readings. He has a great selection of books. He stocks books people love. And he's succeeded even though Barnes and Noble opened a store nearby. But I digress. I want to support my local bookseller.

But as far as Roberto Bolano's book is concerned, is my commitment to independent bookstores worth $11? For this one book? I'd like to think it was, but frankly, I can hear padlocks snapping shut on the front doors of most independent booksellers near here. That would be a terrible.

And now that Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, etc. are approaching, and the gifting season is upon us, people who give gifts probably want to stretch their gift-giving funds. I'm worried. Because all of that desire to save drives people to Amazon and B&N. And that's is a real danger not only for my friend's bookstore, but also for the lovely, lively, local, independent institution of bookstores generally.

Please think about this briefly before you shop. I don't want bookstores to go the way of the small town hardware store.