Ava's Blog: RMST 495

“Who is this professor and why has he designed the course like this?” I asked myself the first time I looked at the course website back in December. I remember when I first registered I told myself that it could go so wrong I might end up hating it. It was completely out of my comfort zone. Well, well, well…fast forward four months, and it’s my only course I don’t want to end.

Most importantly, this class was an escape from my routine poli sci student life. Being obligated to spend hours reading has now left me wanting to read more than I ever did before. When I first picked up my novels I took a long look at them, but despite my initial worry of how I’m going to read/finish them and my fears for this course, I have been able to find great pleasure in reading. I also approach it way differently now. This course wasn’t just about reading two long novels. As the course description said, It was about how to get away from distractions, how to leave the world behind and lose yourself in a long book and I can confidently say that objective was achieved.

I’m thankful for many things this semester: for our discussions and for the amazing group of people in our seminar, who never failed to amaze me with their insightful thoughts throughout. Going back to my question about the professor…throughout my degree, I’ve always said that the professor makes or breaks the course. There is no way around this. No matter how interesting a subject is, if the professor doesn’t approach it with passion and care, it can end up being the worst course ever. But thankfully, we were lucky to have Jon Beasley-Murray as our professor.

I am also thankful to Bolaño. Was it the most enjoyable book? absolutely not. but maybe that is sometimes the point. It all counts in one way or another; it shows you something new. It taught me that there is something deeper than simple enjoyment in a book. It’s the way it gets you to reflect, to make meaning out of what may seem like nothing, to dig deeper and look beyond the surface to ask “Why would a guy write a book THIS LONG and make it the way he did?” This book was the reason for many of our enlightening discussions about why long books are long, why short books are short, endings, the concept of time, meaning and much more.

As much as I enjoyed reaching the end of my novels, I don’t like this ending. This being my last blog feels odd. These weekly blogs also meant a lot to me. Reflecting on each week’s reading got me to reflect on my own reading style: what distracts me, what makes me mad or happy, what I enjoy and how to actually approach reading. If I compare my answers to these questions from January to now, there is a noticeable difference for sure.

Since both of my books were from Latin American literature, this class also meaningfully added to my knowledge of the region that I may never have been exposed to otherwise. This course was never easy for me. As someone who is not a reader I would say, I definitely felt like I didn’t belong at times. But I’m proud of myself for sticking to it and not dropping the course! It’s been a great journey. This class made me realize how much there is to know and how the human brain can work so beautifully to shape ideas and thoughts, with no limit.

Finally, it’s only right if I comment on Artificial Intelligence, as this was also about “reading in the age of AI”. There is so much discussion about how students can use AI and its potential to replace humans. But one thing AI can’t do (at least not yet) is to feel. I think our ability to feel human emotions shapes a great deal of our lives, from our thoughts and actions to how our feelings influence what we produce and write. It comes down to putting your truth above what might seem like a “better” answer produced by AI and trusting that your brain is far more capable. In other words, it’s about how much we trust ourselves, I guess, and are able to validate our own work. I think it has to do something with one’s integrity as well. AI is a powerful and useful tool and there is no doubt in that. Barely a day goes by that I don’t have some form of contact with it and I think it may be impossible to avoid, as it’s so integrated into our systems whether we like it or not. But to let a tool shape your thoughts is maximum absurdity, as is consciously asking it to feel for you when it is very incapable of doing that and this class serves as evidence to that. I like to believe that AI could not reach the conclusions that we have in this course, and it could not even get slightly close to what we have been able to achieve.

Not only do I have no regrets about taking this course but what it has added to my life means so much to me. The most important part of it all you might ask? I just placed my book orders for the summer! This class was a challenge I took on a couple months ago, and it has pushed me in great directions. As I always say, challenges are what make you grow, and this class has done just that.

Thank you all for making this course as enjoyable as it’s been!

Here’s a whistled version of one of my favourite songs by Farhad Mehrad to help you get through my blog. Hope you enjoy it!

On page 3, the novel posed two questions: “When did Peru fuck up?” and “When did he fuck up?” referring to Santiago, the main character. Since the beginning, I have been anticipating a conclusion I assumed would come closer to the end of the novel. I thought the final chapter would include an “ending” that would address the questions more explicitly. I’m not sure at what point but at some point I stopped thinking about the ending. I got carried away by their conversation and their stories. I realized that the answer to those questions actually comes in the form of a puzzle throughout the novel, not at the beginning or the end. I would argue it comes from somewhere in the middle parts.

I’m glad that I chose Conversation in the Cathedral as my self-selected novel. After 601 pages, I am left wanting to read it all over again, not because I am still searching for answers but because I think I will enjoy it even more next time.. I wish I could read it in one sitting without getting tired as I think it would be much more interesting to read it as one single conversation from start to finish equivalent to the beginning and end of the novel. Though I must say this book was a slow read for me but I have no complaints! I want to read more of Vargas Llosa and will definitely do so. I am sure there are many critics who would disagree, but I think this novel was very well-crafted.

The answers to those two questions I mentioned were much more interconnected than I thought they would be even up until my last blog. At the heart of it all, what Vargas Llosa has tried to signify in this novel is the way in which politics influences every aspect of the life of a human and how this was the case in Peru under the extreme measures of the dictatorship. Family, relationships, self-worth, careers, state institutions, freedom, day-to-day activities, living conditions, health, and the list goes on and on. He doesn’t just tell you how these were all affected by the dictatorship but instead he lets you figure it out by yourself through reading the novel and discovering the truths. He shows how the regime’s tools extend far beyond jailing or killing the opposition. He shows how the dictatorship’s negative effects weave into society and leave a lasting mark. As time passes, the oppressor digs deeper and deeper into society, into the civilians’ lives, and before you know it, they have reached within your walls, and even into your bed, influencing the most personal matters in one’s life.

There is a “aha” moment as you read the book, which I find makes up the majority of my answer to those questions. I had read Stuart Hall’s article a while back, which includes an interpretive section of Gramsci’s Prison Notebooks (here is the link if you would like to read it), and this novel made me think of some of Gramsci’s ideas, mainly that at a certain point in dictatorships, the oppressed help legitimize the oppressor. We see many characters praise the dictatorship, not just the ones who are part of the system, but ordinary citizens. The regime successfully achieves this by injecting the idea that its system is “common sense” and normal into the fabric of society. This creates a scenario in which “coercion” is not the only tool to rule and maintain power; rather, the regime rules through “consent” which is how a dictatorship is able to hold onto power. This process of winning this consent is how the dictatorship gets those ordinary citizens to legitimize it. What Llosa shows at times is how people have internalized the regime’s values (some consciously and others unconsciously) often talking and acting in ways that support the system even when it doesn’t specifically serve their own interests by following what the regime successfully replaced oppression with and termed “common sense”. The majority doesn’t contest it, because they start not paying attention, or they normalize or even accept the brutalities. In Gramsci’s terms, they become both the victims of the system and the very “instruments” that keep it running, with society itself becoming the tool that reproduces the cycle of dictatorships. I have been so frustrated while reading when characters that either didn’t care or were in support of Odría would justify the government’s actions, but then connecting the dots and looking at the theories behind it was somewhat helpful.

I realized I don’t talk about individual characters much but instead I categorize them in my own way when I write my blogs. I seperate Santiago from the others as he is unique and can’t fit in anywhere. He chooses to be different from everyone, not to end up corrupted like his dad, not to be successful, because being successful is being corrupted. So he chooses “mediocrity” to be different and he is one who after some point detaches himself from politics and tries to live outside the structure of society. The second group is what I viewed as ordinary citizens, who are often exploited by those in power and have no direct influence on outcomes. Third, there is the group of government supporters who have a role in shaping the “common sense” and in a way they are the bridge between the state and the ordinary citizens in the novel. They are the upper-class elites. Lastly, government officials who make decisions and are in charge of it all. It works like a chain of processes that reinforce one another, as each layer adds to the causal chain that reproduces these “norms” and ways of thought, which ultimately helps the dictatorship hold on to its power through this top-down process.

Moving on from all of this, Santiago realizes that categorizing himself as mediocre and his dad as the upper-class, successful elite in society is not a very sustainable way to go about it. He finds out that his dad has allegedly been a homosexual and a known character among the prostitutes in Lima. He is not known as the glorified Don Fermin. He also finds out that his father was potentially the one who ordered Ambrosio to kill one of the prostitutes (the murder mystery). When he finds out, he is so taken and confused by it all that he realizes these categories are no longer clear but blurred, that his dad is not who he had always thought he was and that troubles him a lot. The novel doesn’t give you a clear-cut answer, just as the text itself is not clear or straightforward and that is what makes the novel, in my humble opinion, truly unique. It implicitly exposes you to the layers of suffering across various aspects of life and society, pushing you to make those connections and realizations on your own. I think Santiago realizes that no matter how much he has tried to escape this system and pretend not to be affected by it, he, like everyone else is trapped.

The novel ends when Vargas Llosa ends Santiago and Ambrosio’s conversation in the Cathedral when Ambrosio says “it’s getting late, son” twice, though Santiago seems like he does nott want to end the conversation, and after god knows how many hours of them being in the cathedral (601 pages later), the conversation finally comes to an end.

Thank you for reading this extremely long blog:)

It is over. I feel strange. An end that marks the end of the book but not the end of the story for me.

I think halfway through the novel I decided that I didn’t enjoy reading it but even then I was still hopeful for a change. I was waiting for the moment when it would all make sense. In some sense it did. However, I’m having a hard time putting it into words. If I want to put it in the simplest form possible, it made sense by not making any sense. In fact, I think “meaning” got lost in this novel.

Just like Belano, Lima, García Madero, and Lupe searching for Cesárea Tinajero and her poetry, believing that finding her would answer all their questions, only for her to die once they finally found her, I found myself in a similar situation when I finished the book. I waited through all these pages to get to part III and when I finally did and reached the end, I was left with my questions unanswered. Maybe that was intentional or perhaps I need to reread the book (which I won’t do) to find the deeper meaning behind all of this if there is one. But there must be! Otherwise, how could so many people praise it? or why was it chosen for this class? Instead of answering my questions, it has left me with more.

García Madero’s show-off of his “knowledge” was utterly off-putting. He wanted validation, recognition, or to try to fit in, to impress, while Arturo and Belano were mostly clueless about what he was saying and didn’t seem to care much. He was the same García Madero from part I, the same views, the same comments. As we got closer to the end, specifically on January 31^st, when they found Cesárea Tinajero, I couldn’t wait to read an actual poem of hers, to finally read a poem by a visceral realist (not counting her other poem), but that moment never came because Belaño simply didn’t give us any. In my view, García Madero seems as disappointed in visceral realism as I am. Once upon a time he was flattered that he was invited to join the visceral realists, and after just four months, everything seems to have changed. A pattern I’ve noticed from the start of part II is that wherever Arturo and Ulises have gone, they seem to have ruined something, not necessarily on purpose, but still. As the last example of this, they went on their mission in search of Cesárea, and they ended up in a way being the reason she died.

The end of Cesárea Tinajero, the end of visceral realism, and the end of the novel all at once.

Also, I understand why Bolaño chose to call the novel The Savage Detectives.

Despite everything negative I have said about this book, it was challenging (which is good) and got me thinking a lot about what holds “meaning” and what doesn’t, and about what is “important” and what isn’t.

I remember commenting on someone’s blog about gifting books and how enjoyable/satisfactory it is to receive and gift books. However, I would not gift The Savage Detectives to anyone. If someone asks and is eager to read it, I will give them my copy but with a warning. With all that said, I don’t regret reading it. I feel content that I have read this novel, but I’m certainly relieved that it is over.

I found this picture on pinterest when I searched “The Savage Detectives” because I got curious about what could possibly come up and this did so I thought I’d share it here.

It’s funny (sad) what society, well, some characters in the book associate with “comfort” or being “privileged”. I believe these “hidden desires” reveal something deeper about society especially economic disparities where many things are defined by what you can influence with the money you have, what activities you can engage in and even who you can socialize with in hopes that it will add value to you or change how people perceive you.

I think that the place where Santiago works, La Crónica, functions more like a detective agency than a newspaper, solving murder mysteries at this point. It reminded me of Poirot novels I had read when I was younger. As they talk about their job, this one quote reminded me of The Savage Detectives. Carlitos says “this is where we confessed that we were failures as poets and as communists. Now we are a pair of newspapermen” (p. 355).

Back to Santiago’s family dynamics. It got me thinking of how sometimes distance is good.  In the sense that it makes you appreciate people’s presence and the value they add to your life by just being there. When they are always there, we seem not to notice that much, and we miss that because we think they will always be there. This is what happens to Santiago and his brother: even though they were constantly arguing and fighting, he does everything to get Santiago to come back home. He is begging him, he is excited, he is joyful about the idea that he is coming back to have lunch with them. I keep wondering whether this is where Santiago went wrong, separating from his family and wasting his opportunities. I think that fighting for something that you want to achieve is admirable, but I don’t see him fighting. He pretends to be in the ring but throws punches that are perhaps at himself or an imaginary opponent. Maybe that is a fight on its own, but a fight with himself to ruin his life. I’m not sure though maybe my interpretations will turn out to be wrong by the end.

See now, with this book, it simply doesn’t let the idea of skipping pages even cross your mind, whereas Savage Detectives… I don’t know…

In my last blog, I concluded by saying that Odría was able to save his status, and the coup had failed. But that is inaccurate since Manuel Prado is now president (backed by Odría). If you thought this changed the order, I am sad to disappoint you, but the puppeteers remain the same particularly Don Cayo Bermúdez. Santiago’s dad hilariously enough says that now that Prado is in power, the government is functioning like a mafia and because of this he might as well become a communist. The insability is written all over these characters and it is all about where they can make more money and gain more power. They use loyalty as an excuse, but once it doesn’t serve their interests (doesn’t pay enough), they don’t even know what loyalty means.

This book also makes me want to read Peru’s history in greater detail. I have questions about these characters because they are based on real people so most of them I don’t know but they seem to have more important roles even compared to the president. All they do is deceive one another and the nation. Every single day. Is that fulfilling? I don’t know. One of them claims that the demonstrations show that the new president, Manuel Prado, has a strong support base, and that people would elect him if there were an election. Don Cayo, in response, says that if he gives him the money, he can organize the same demonstrations for him, no problem.

They also hand out government positions like candy. They are planning to appoint Espina, who was behind the coup as Ambassador to Spain and also appoint a senator who helped the coup as the head of the senate, just to secure their deniability and stabilize the government. Wow!

Going back to earlier, I wonder what makes you want to skip pages (not that you do but still)? Or on the other hand, what makes you not skip?

I’m starting to feel a bit less “fond” of The Savage Detectives (I was barely ever but). Even though I am usually less excited to read The Savage Detectives than Conversation in the Cathedral, this time around it really took me out. I usually read the book in one sitting or over a couple of days but this time I read parts last week and then the remainder over yesterday and today, and I genuinely believe that made it more intolerable for me. But I could not be more content with the fact that we are finally close to the finish line. I was quite tempted to read the final part. That is all I have been waiting for.

In this blog, I do not wish to reflect on the many characters discussed, as they contributed to me not being able to enjoy my reading this week. However, Belano is an exception. He is interesting. I have grown to like him over the past couple of months. His relationships, his words, and his behaviour are strange, but not strange like Ulises’s or the rest of the visceral realists. He has a numbness to him. Like he cares but he does not at the same time (if that makes sense).

I wish I could meet these characters not because they inspire me or they are fascinating but because I am tired of imagining what they look like. I want to get a visual sense of what they look like (I am a visual person, what can I say). There should be a movie based on The Savage Detectives. I would absolutely watch it. Though I must say, that movie would be quite weird, maybe interesting, and engaging because of how weird and strange it would turn out to be… It is something to think about. As I have said before, the characters in this book and their relationships can all serve as case studies for psychology students. There is so much to unpack about each character (though we do a fairly good job during our seminar). The book leaves me numb, but then it turns into frustration each time, feeling as if I need to take a walk to clear my head or grab coffee or both. From pages 490-512, I kept wondering once again… how did we get here? A duel? Arturo? Really? Going back to what happened to visceral realism and their members… some dead, some alive, some disappeared and no one knows what happened to Arturo, and worse than that, no one ever knows or has any account of who García Madero was (His name was Bustamante?). and Lastly…the search for Cesárea continues…. “doing it for Mexico, for Latin America.” I think we will hear more about Cesárea or I mean we must. Will she be found?

For a part (Feria Del Libro Madrid, July 1994) one after another, the interviews ended with a similar statement each time, and that got me going back and forth between the interviews and rereading them every time I got to the end of each, realizing that they are similar. After the third one, I believe, I first read the line at the end of the interviews and then read the interview itself. I’m sure we will talk about this in great detail in class (Or I hope so), but which one resonates with you? Which one is correct? Is there one that is correct? Does this have any meaning to you, or does it depend on the context?

-Everything that begins as comedy ends in tragedy-

-Everything that begins as comedy inevitably ends as comedy-

-Everything that begins as a comedy ends as a cryptic exercise-

-Everything that begins as comedy ends as a horror movie-

-What begins as comedy ends as a triumphal march-

-Everything that begins as comedy inevitably ends as mystery-

-Everything that begins as comedy ends as a dirge in the void-

-Everything that begins as comedy ends as a comic monologue-

O homeland,
which generation of your children
will see you free, flourishing, and proud
with eyes that truly believe?

– Mahmoud Dowlatabadi

What a strange experience it is to read. What a strange feeling to read about the history of one country and think of another. The events, the small details, the history of dictatorships, their fall, their rise, public perception, the struggle of civil societies, the power of media, censorship, the regime’s distortion of events, the silencing of dissent, the control and the suffocation of a nation by the hands of a regime. Oh Vargas Llosa!

From the beginning, I have felt strange when reading Conversation in the Cathedral (not in a negative way). Even though I was reading a novel about Peru it seemed like I had heard these stories before, though not about the Peruvian experience but about the Iranian one (past and present). Political prisoners, universities portrayed as the space for leftist movements, the “open-minded” ones, the revolutionaries. Print shops used for printing clandestine anti-government fliers, the designated “meeting houses” that had to be switched from time to time, and out of all of this, your words becoming your own death warrant. It is so similar that it sometimes blows my mind. It helps my reading because I get vivid visual images of what is happening in the book, thanks to how greatly I was exposed to the history of the Iranian revolution (the movies/shows have helped with that for sure). I would say my imagination helps me read this book. That is what I enjoy most about it.

What puzzles me the most when reading is Santiago’s relationship with himself. He has a lot on his mind. I don’t know if he knows it himself. Self-criticism, doubt, and his empty performances of independence, though I think he would classify his choices as revolutionary acts against his family, the rejection of “privilege”, a way of standing up to them. Once again, I know this was also the case for many of the younger generations leading up to the revolution in Iran in 1978. It makes me believe Vargas Llosa more. With Santiago, I think he is determined to be independent and never go back home to see his parents or do what they want him to do, because that is all he can stand up to; that is the only thing in his power. He lacks the power to stand up to the Odriístas and to take part in the movements against the dictatorship or to even make concrete decisions in his life other than not going back to his parents’ house. When there are talks about the possible fall of the dictatorship, he seems to distance himself from what is happening. He is hopeless as if he doesn’t care about the future, who will replace Odría, or what would happen if Odría switches to a military dictatorship. On that note however, it is interesting that when there are talks about the fall of Odría, the only character who expresses great concern is Señora Lucía whom I think is his landlady. She experiences a lot of distress, fearing the country will fall into the hands of the Apristas because as she puts it, they are atheists and communists. Does this mean people preferred Odría to stay on? Well, Señora Lucía…Odría did not fall; instead, he shifted to a full-on military rule, a rule goverened by the Constitution of repression.

On my reading experience now: It seems that the fractured stories follow me to every book, though I enjoy what Vargas Llosa has done here. His format makes much more sense than Bolaño’s. It is smoother and better blended with one another.

When talking about power, people, and politics, I must mention the masterful work of Vargas Llosa in this book. The way he has been able to portray life under a dictatorship, especially the family dynamics at play. You get to sense the tensions that exist, the worries, the disagreements, the heated conversations, the differences in political opinions, even the sacrifices and how that affects a family. I know so many stories of people who did not talk to their families ever again in Iran, especially in 1977 onward because of their ideological differences and to either keep their position, gain a position, or they were revolutionaries, and as their differences multiplied, they grew apart even more. Just like in my story with Don Fermín and Santiago, the feud is usually between fathers and sons while the mothers (sometimes the siblings) are caught in the middle. Once again I can’t emphasize how amazed I am by how well the climate at the time is described, though it may not be immediately apparent to every reader, perhaps, or maybe it is because I know of another revolution very closely, with details that were not just read in history books or in shows made later on but accounts I was told by many of the people who lived through it. And with that, I go back to the epigraph that I mentioned in my first blog: “One must have explored all of social life in order to be a true novelist, since the novel is the private history of nations.” It could not get more accurate than this.

I have many other points in my notes to cover, but I’ll stop here for everyone’s sake. My question this week is: what is one thing that puzzles you about your book? Or is there nothing that puzzles you?

And the Interviews continue… How will all of this make sense? Will it ever?

To start off, it’s satisfying that the pages I’ve read finally outweigh what’s left. I must give Bolaño some praise for his writing. It may not make much sense to me, but he clearly knows what he’s doing by deliberately making it as confusing as possible; that takes a lot of effort. With over 250 pages into this part and with more to come, this section continues with the same old fractured stories, giving us descriptive accounts of how these characters first met Bolano and Lima, what they think of them and what they think of visceral realism. I would like to know why he doesn’t divide these interviews into chapters rather than spread them throughout. I think I would enjoy it more to read one chapter from one person and then move on to the next. At this point, I don’t understand what the point of having chapters is.

It’s interesting to hear more about Arturo and Ulises, though I feel there still isn’t enough context and once again I don’t know whether I need this information. At times, it also sounds repetitive, and like last time it feels unnecessary especially some of the interviews that go on tangents for no obvious reason (at least no obvious reason so far). I must say, I favour Arturo over Ulises. Ulises seems strange, off-putting and quite careless. Both of them seem to be burdens to others, as if friends are helping them out of pity or they are making people’s lives difficult.

What we get from this section is that visceral realism is dead, no one seems to remember it or even know of it at times (or maybe pretends not to). It is barely that we hear good things about visceral realism, Arturo, and Ulises. Alfonso Pérez goes on to say that he doesn’t really see them as poets and that only money mattered to them. Maybe only Garcia Madero truly loved them and thought visceral realism is the greatest thing to ever exist.

We do get some more context about what happened on December 31, 1975. Well, we knew they left, and now we know where: Sonora. When Lima disappears in Managua, though some think he is lost, others think that he is not in fact lost but disappeared on purpose because people are after him which is why he has been on the run since New Year’s Eve in 1975, when he left town with the others. Maria Font says that Ulises and Arturo have been on the run since then. She says they left for Sonora to look for Cesárea Tinajero (as some people said in their interviews) but if I recall correctly, that was not the reason. Someone else says they fled because of their way of playing politics saying the way they politically influenced reality caused this and got them in trouble. Questionable.

I just really hope the ending leaves me stunned. After putting us through this section (there is more left which I am not looking forward to reading) I will be quite disappointed if this all doesn’t make sense at some point. I’ve been trying to be more optimistic about outcomes, focusing on the positives instead of the negatives so this is perhaps a test.

First off, I can’t believe I finished a whole book in one sitting, in one day. Going back to our in class discussion on Thursday on why short books are short, one of the reasons we came up with was the satisfaction that it gives the readers, that they are able to finish the book faster and this gives readers a sense of achievement, making them more attracted to shorter books. That’s why they prefer reading shorter books, perhaps a marketing strategy that appeals to readers’ desire for quick success. I definitely felt that way.

The book was definitely successful at keeping me hooked and reading Bolaño, and not being confused is a great feeling/achievement. I feel like I learned a thing or two from reading this book, or perhaps some ideas were reinforced for me through Auxilio Lacoutune’s narrative. The notion of resilience in particular. Also, I truly admire how she simply wanted to be around Felipe and Pedro Garfías to learn from them, as she held them in high regard. That to me is so incredible: learning from people you admire by being in their presence.

My favourite pages were pages 4, 114, 136, 167-169, and 184 (Is it weird that I have favourite pages?). One part of the text truly stayed with me. I found myself reading it over and over. Auxilio says as she was hallucinating about Remedios Varo:

“and when you’re happy or sense that happiness may be imminent, you’re not afraid to look at yourself in mirrors, indeed, when you’re happy or feel predestined for happiness, you tend to lower your guard and face up to mirrors, out of curiosity, I guess, or because you’re feeling good in your skin” (p. 136)

If you remember, I raised the idea that Arturo Belano was Roberto Bolaño in The Savage Detectives. Well, yes, we know it is not him, but a representation of him in the story? I never gave up on that, and as I was reading Amulet, I noticed something. We know that Roberto Bolaño was born in 1953. When Auxilio meets Arturo Belano in 1970 she tells us that he is 16-17 years old and 1970-1953=17!!! It may be irrelevant, but I find it so interesting to make these connections and explore them further.

She jumps back and forth between the future, hypothetical scenarios, and the past while she is stuck in the bathroom on the fourth floor of the faculty of philosophy and literature at the UNAM. I appreciate that I could distinguish what was perhaps a hallucination and what had actually happened before. I also think Amulet should be recommended to anyone reading The Savage Detectives, especially to learn more about who Arturo is and his past.

My question for you is: what was your favourite part/aspect of the book? also, would you say you enjoyed reading Amulet more or The Savage Detectives (so far)?

My initial thought after finishing the last page I intended to read for this week (pp. 90-190) was that I tried to figure out whether I liked The Savage Detectives more or Conversation in the Cathedral and I genuinely do not have an answer. I compare them so much I don’t know why. However one thing I’ve really appreciated about Conversation in the Cathedral is how it sparks my imagination as I read it; it allows me to visualize the streets, the places, the university of San Marcos, the faces of the characters, their expressions; I feel none of that when reading The Savage Detectives.

I am still very much confused about what is going on. I think there are three main reasons that make the book confusing: first, there are so many names and those names have nicknames; last time I thought I had this under control, but it just got worse. Second, there are conversations in conversations. As Ambrosio and Santiago talk, other stories are thrown at the reader, woven into the narrative, leaving me feeling confused. At some point, I tried not to think of connecting the dots, but instead JUST READ (I think it helped). Finally (same issue I have with The Savage Detectives), I feel like there is a lot of unnecessary information which I like to call filler information. This gets me to think about the question that keeps popping up in our discussions. Why are long books long? Do they need to be that long? I don’t know…I would like to keep an open mind and to think that it is all relevant and will make sense by the end.

As for a storyline update: Santiago is interesting. It seems like he’s been carrying many regrets, feeling that he’s spent his life not truly believing in what he’s doing. He often feels like he didn’t have the courage to make bold decisions and was just “pretending” at times. To me though, his choices show that he simply has a functioning brain and tends to think carefully before making big decisions, rather than acting impulsively. For example when offered to officially join the Cahuide (a communist organization largely composed of students at San Marcos), despite his friends joining, he doesn’t as he is not sure what the role exactly entails. The story basically explains these relationships, student uprisings at the university, how they plan to organize it all, and their affiliation with APRA and the labour movements; though they are unsuccessful in this section and most of the important actors of the student body get arrested.

As we know, Santiago’s father is closely tied to Odría’s government. When Santiago and a bunch of other Cahuide members get arrested, Santiago is saved and his name is removed from all the records because of his father, Don Fermín. He seems eager to break free from his father’s influence and power. I wonder if he secretly enjoys the protection he gets knowing someone will always come to his rescue at the end of the day, or if he truly despises his father.

 In one of the conversations, Odría’s officials say that an election must be held to “seal the deal” and that Odría’s presidency has to be officially recognized by Peruvian voters for his government to gain international and national legitimacy especially from the U.S.. Don Fermín goes on to say “Elections are a formality… but a necessary formality.” Another person says that to hold this election, the country has to be pacified first meaning that all the Apristas have to be cleaned up, or else the election could “blow up in our faces like a bomb” and not end up with Odría winning. What I appreciate about this book is the ability to connect it to scholarly work I have previously read. This section reminded me of Levitsky and Way’s concept of Competitive Authoritarianism. Odría wants that recognition, to gain legitimacy and signal democratic values by holding elections on paper but there is a significant gap between what is presented and the reality. They suppress opposition, they imprison the leader of the opposition party, arrest APRA members and communists and attempt to control the election apparatus, signalling that yes, this is an election and there are candidates; however, the winner is already pre-determined from our pool of candidates.

A question I will leave you with is this: When I read, I always have my blog in the back of my mind… what will I say… oh maybe I should underline this… maybe I should leave a bookmark here… but that gets tiring, and I feel like it sometimes takes away from my ability to fully enjoy the readings. This time I tried to block that and didn’t even write down much in my notebook, and I believe I enjoyed that quite a lot more. So I wonder how your experience has been? Do you do this too? Or is it just me:)

As you might recall, I really enjoyed reading the first part of The Savage Detectives, but now… I am not even sure how I feel. From the very beginning, I have felt that I always need to be on the hunt for details, making connections, connecting the dots with Bolaño but at this point I’m hesitant to even do that. You could say I tried to keep track of everything, the dates, the names, and the different narratives, but I may have given up halfway. I tried to finish this week’s reading in one sitting but I couldn’t. It took me several tries to get through. At times I wished it would switch back to García Madero and his journal-entry style.

Some of these (I guess) “interviews” were quite interesting, for example Laura Jáuregui’s interview. She has a somewhat strange dynamic when it comes to relationships. She falls for the guy, dates him, he falls for her, and then she ends the relationship (this sounded very familiar to me). This pattern repeats with multiple people. I am convinced that there is something going on in this book with the idea of intimacy/relationships in general; Roberto Bolaño has some explaining to do. Though I love it when she is sick of Arturo Belano and says “you can woo a girl with a poem, but you can’t hold her with a poem.”

As I was reading, it was hard to keep up because most of the time I was confused and wondered why I was reading these fragmented stories that end after one or two pages, with missing before and afters. One common aspect of these interviews was that most people viewed visceral realists as untrustworthy, badly behaved, “ignoramuses” and even Fabio Ernesto Logiacomo calls them “bums.” Why? Why do most of them despise visceral realists and talk about them in a degrading manner, and why are they disappointed and think they will make a mess? I am curious to see where this negative perception stems from and how it was formed.

I got extremely excited when I read about characters I knew from Part I of the book, like Angelica. Then, we have María wanting to sleep with Arturo and Lima at the same time, even though at first she could not stand them because they had allegedly stolen her dad’s car. I’m curious why no one seems to have control over themselves in this novel. It often makes me laugh as I read it. This might be an unpopular opinion, but I find this novel quite hilarious, with its strange stories and the unrestrained thoughts of its characters. My favourite interview was with Barbara Patterson, especially pages 182-183, where she really stands her ground. She’s quite expressive and very passive aggressive; best two pages!

A question I will leave you with: Do you feel any closer to connecting with the title? Do these interviews and descriptions allow us to see “the savage detectives” in action? For me, it often feels like we’re detective-like, piecing together fragmented narratives to find meaning in this novel and in a way, the novel embodies the “savage” part.