RMST 495/520: Long Books

As I cozied up to start the next section of The Savage Detectives, I was very curious to see where the story would take me. I want to know what happens to Lupe, and I wonder how Garcia Madero will continue to mature.

At first, I felt a bit lost in this new narrators and settings; it was like beginning a new book (or a couple) all over again. Eventually, characters like Ulises Lima, Arturo Belano, and Luscious Skin, as well as the visceral realists and the magazine Lee Harvey Oswald clicked into place from the first section, and by page 166 I felt confident with my grasp of the different stories from different sources. Unfortunately, due to the time between readings and how many other things I am reading right now, I can’t remember how everything fits together. All of these narratives feel like they are introduced as interviews – is this being done in the search for Cesária Tinajero?

I found something compelling in the first few pages as the narrator describes a crush on a boy at her school. This perspective on attraction felt refreshing after Garcia Madero’s.

The writing style – fluid, “speedy” and long sentences –  as well as the content – meeting new people and going to new places sometimes too fast to keep track – reminds me a little bit of On the Road by Jack Kerouac. With both books, I found the pacing exhausting to read, so much happening so quickly.

I enjoyed Laura’s takes. She observes about Belano, “And then I realized that deep down the guy was a creep,” and “The whole visceral realism thing was a love letter, the demented strutting of a dumb bird in the moonlight, something essentially cheap and meaningless” (152). Later, she likens the visceral realist movement to a male bird’s mating dance: “that’s what Arturo Belano was like, a stupid, conceited peacock” (172). I think Laura is tapping into what Carlina, Lily and I talked about two weeks ago, how visceral realism feels a bit performative. Later, Luis says to Luscious Skin, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, and don’t take it the wrong way, but I couldn’t care less about the visceral realists (God what a name)” (175) I felt a bit seen.

Another pertinent quote, this time from Perla, says “Not for long, really, which goes to show how relative memory is, like a language we think we know but we don’t, that can stretch things or shrink them at will” (166). I feel memory is a crucial element in the passage for this week, as different characters recount their (sometimes contradictory) memories. How do you approach your understanding of this passage based upon memories that may or may not be faulty?

Of all the new narrators, I found Perla, Laura and Barbara to be the most compelling to me. Maybe because they are women and are over the visceral realists, and I like Barbara’s voice as a narrator.

Very obvious lack of sex compared to the first section, yet I noted here I felt more sexual violence towards men with the story of the French troops.

Question I still have: where is Garcia Madero?

I keep changing my mind on whether I liked the second part of the book better or the first. At first, I did not like the book at all but I feel like I’m getting used to it now. Now that I’ve read more of the book I’m starting to like the first half of the book better than the later even though I didn’t initially like it. I liked the journal style entries that Garcia Madero provided because it felt easy to read. The interview style of writing is also kind of nice because it provides more people’s perspective rather than just Garcia Madero. It gives the feeling of being inside all these different character’s heads rather than just Garcia Madero’s subconscious thoughts. However, I think I liked Garcia Madero’s journal entries more. I also feel like including the city with the dates along with the names make it feel like an important interview being recorded and it feels very professional as if it can be used like a historical record. But despite the title and names I’m struggling to keep up with all the different narratives.

Consequently, I find it kind of hard to write about this book because I really just have no idea what to write. Unlike Shadows of the Wind where it’s hard to put the book down with the Savage Detective it feels like I’m not reading it as I should. I know that sounds odd but I feel like I’m probably missing some key details or I’m missing something important that I should have grasped. I feel like a detective trying to connect the dots with all the details given. And the thing about all the characters is that I feel like there are so many of them that I start to forget who is who and what story or details belong to which person. It certainly does not help that I have a terrible memory.

 “But the truth is that I only slept with Ernesto a few times, so why should it be my fault if people got all worked up over nothing? I also slept with Maria Font, and Arturo Belano had a problem with that. And I would’ve slept with Luis Rosado that night and then Arthur Belano would’ve kicked me out of the group.” Page 152. 

It’s kind of crazy how sex with multiple women is so normalized in this book. This quote shows an example from Luscious Skin’s interview where he says how he’s slept with multiple women. Even in my previous blog post I mentioned how Garcia Madero kept going from women to women. For example, the waitress and Maria. This seems to be a recurring theme in the book and it makes me question whether this was not frowned upon during that time period? Like I know in today’s day and time cheating has become so normalized even though it’s frowned upon so was this the case then too. Or is it just that Bolano has some weird obsession with the intimacy shown in his book. 

Discussion Question: Do you think there’s a reason why we are hardly shown any poems even though that’s what the visceral realists are supposed to be about?

Unlike the very first part of The Savage Detectives, I’m not going into this second part completely blind because of our discussions in class where it was mentioned that this second part would take a shift from García Madero’s journal entries to a multi-narrative style (multiperspectivity? polyperspectivity? polyphonic narration? I just searched on Google “word for multiple narrators” and got a bunch so I’ll just stick with multi-narrative). I also believe it was mentioned that eventually in the third part we’ll come back to García Madero. However, what I find most interesting is that even though we move away from García Madero’s journal entries, in these ~60 pages, there’s no mention of García Madero at all, nor is there any mention of Lupe as well! To think that the whole first part of this book was from García Madero’s perspective, it makes me truly wonder why there is not one single mention of him yet? It’s also not just that he isn’t mentioned at all, but the fact that basically everyone else from the first part has been mentioned. Belano, Lima, the Font sisters, Quim and his wife, Pancho, Moctezuma, Barrios, Jacinto Requena, Luscious Skin, San Epifanio… the list goes on in addition to the many other characters we meet from this multi-narrative jumble (maybe jumble isn’t the right word, but it’s the first word that came to mind). Intriguing, very intriguing, I suppose I’ll just have to read on to find out what happens, or I guess happened, to García Madero…

This kind of transitions to my next thoughts on the chronology and structure of the second part of this book. Here’s what I’ve gathered so far: the second part of this book is dated from 1976-1996 which is of course after the first part that ends on New Year’s Eve. While it’s dated 1976-1996, they of course aren’t solely talking about what’s happening in those years, it’s just that these accounts (or interviews? I’ll get into that a bit later) take place in those years. Since we’ve just only started the first part we’ve only really gotten accounts from 1976, however, it does ping pong a bit back and forth between the months (although maybe it’s just Amadeo’s accounts in January 1976 that are the exception, otherwise I guess all the accounts are in chronological order). We do know from Maria’s account in December 1976 that at some point Belano and Lima have returned to Mexico City though (again, no mention of García Madero or Lupe). Also, each account has a location, so far all just various places in Mexico City (I wonder if we’ll be going international soon because Lima and Belano did mention that they were going to Paris and Spain, also why are they going in the first place??). Now one big question that I have is what exactly are all these accounts? Are all these narrators being interviewed or something? That also of course begs the question of why? These aren’t just simple journal entries like with García Madero. On page 162, Alberto directly references Luisito’s account and goes on to set some facts straight and even says “Make sure you get that straight.” I understand that some people use “you” when writing their personal journals as if they were talking to themself or some omniscient third party (I used to do the same when I was young) but combined with the location and dated entries and the fact that we have all these narrators, this second part reads as some kind of sequence of interviews. Maybe there’s nothing deeper to it and Bolaño just wanted to create this fragmented multi-narration in the second part, but still, something important to note.

Now, personally, I’ve actually been enjoying having all these different narrators, it’s kind of nice to read the differences in how they write and describe events (kind of like how it’s nice to read the differences in our blog posts!). I think the most notably different one was Barbara Patterson’s which didn’t hold back any punches when it came to foul language. My discussion question this week might be a bit lame but I’m curious as to “What do you guys think about the multi-narration? And who has your favourite narrator been so far?” If I had to choose, I’d either say Luscious Skin or Maria. Luscious Skin because he writes very simply in short, straight-to-the-point sentences, and it was fascinating to see how he perceives others and how he perceives himself (as a “peace-loving person” when reasoning why he didn’t beat up Belano which I found quite funny). I also enjoyed reading Maria’s account because in the first part there were definitely a few moments where I was curious to understand what exactly she was thinking or more so how she saw things. So it was actually quite interesting being able to read from Maria’s perspective briefly, even that last part about her wanting to sleep with Belano and Lima gave some nice insights into her thoughts (still, again, no mention whatsoever of García Madero…)

P.S. I know I didn’t mention much on the last chapter with Auxilio’s account (which I believe is the part from Amulet) but after posting this blog I think I’ll do some reading on the Mexican student movement because honestly before this course I was not really familiar with it at all. Please excuse my ignorance!

Alberto Moore’s entry begins as such: “What Luisito says is true, up to a point. My sister is an utter lunatic, yes, but she’s charming, only twenty-two, a year older than me, and an extremely intelligent woman” (p.162).

It got me thinking about the nature of the entries we just read. At first, I thought it’s a compilation of diary entries from peripheral members of the VR movement. But I couldn’t justify this assumption, after reading the excerpt above. Alberto comments on Luis’ entry, the one before his, so they don’t seem like diary entries. At least, Luis and Alberto’s are not meant to be private. You could see Alberto trying to rectify his sister’s image, for fear that the reader would get the wrong impression of her. So who’s this audience they’re writing for? Why did they write it? I would like to make these my discussion questions.

Could this be a project of some VR members to collect written records of events that encapsulate the spirit of the movement? — this is my tentative answer. I imagine them going out and asking people connected to the movement (or friends of the leaders) to write something for their collection. I get that impression because most entries mention the narrator’s experience with Arturo Belano or Ulises Lima. Most of the entries described them as charming, charismatic people — this reminds me of Annabelle’s comment on Bolaño’s unrealistic plot of multiple women falling for Garcia Madero, a guy barely out of high school…

Still, there was one person’s entry that I absolutely loved — Perla’s, despite the general idea still being Belano’s charm and his poetry obsession. Perla’s voice is light, elegant, not overwrought with heavy emotions. She tells simple stories. Both of them are outcasts at school. She likes him (not love, I think), watches him play soccer and talks about poetry with him. I also loved the part about pyramids: “Hours later, as we were on our way back in my father’s car, him in front and me in back, he said that there was probably some pyramid lying buried under our land. I remember that my father turned his eyes from the road to look at him. Pyramids? Yes, he said, deep underground there must be lots of pyramids” (p.147). I haven’t read much magic realism, but this felt magic-realist to me. The tip of an iceberg.

I also have a brief comment on my experience of reading. When I reopened the book to write this blog post, I had a memory-palace experience, which I often have with music but rarely with novels. I reread Luscious Skin’s entry (p.170) and I had a very clear recollection of myself reading it on the bus. Yes, it was a very vivid memory not just of the content, but of the act of reading. I was on the 68, it was dark outside, and the bus was passing in front of Koerner’s pub when Luscious talked about him stealing a sculpture from Casa del Lago. I love this kind of experience, but I’m confused why it’s the reading of this section that I recall so clearly! Luscious Skin is just complaining about Belano, saying he tries to please Belano, who still doesn’t like him. Did this strike some part of my subconscious, memories of me trying and failing to be a people-pleaser? Or was this section so boring that my mind started to wander to my surroundings? I don’t know. Have you ever had a similar experience? Only writing this, I’m realizing that the act of reading is something we rarely remember, maybe because our monotonous action is drowned out by the memories of more dramatic events in the book.

WEEK 4.

This week’s poem is one I wrote. I am not an aspiring poet, nor do I get much pleasure out of poetry as I do with narrative prose and plays. But it is a path one must take to explore all facets of shiny, diamond, text. I came across the concept the concept of spiritual coup as I read an essay by Boricua author and poet, Marya Santos-Febre: “Salsa as Translocation” (1990). As always, I am thankful this blog provides a thinking space.

Spiritual coup 

—

The second part of Savage Detectives coalesce many perceptions fluctuating around time and space, much like Earth does in space. Like always, reading Bolaño is a river stream flowing memories and sentiments. At its core; nostalgia in swirls of all emotions; a vehement stir of the self. I feel its text rupture into real life, much like many earth ruptures I have felt. Earthquakes. Is it weird? It is like this text touches on multiple inhibitors at once: a panacea for forgetting my own realities, insofar I avoid relating, if any, text parallels to my life experiences. I have read up until Chapter IV of Part II; the end of Auxilio Lacouture’s chapter. Although, I felt excited to read her perspective of Bolaño and Ulises Lima, I instead felt warm to read her again. The text only echoes the beginning of Amulet. Her story entails more, her visions are grandiose. I notice a pattern of the chapters:

Amadeo Salvatierra gives short accounts. And it seems that his temporality crescendoes as the short accounts at the beginning of chapters progress. I am still wondering where this is all leading to.

For some reason, I mentally picture the character of Cesarea Tinajero with the avatar of Salvadoran-poet, Lillian Serpas.

I wonder whether my thinking is symbolic. Both characters are mysterious; little are known of them; information is contradictory. Albeit, Serpas did publish a few poems. Many pictures are built: a fictionalized version of Arturo Belano and Ulises Lima. Up until now, I believed Ulises Lima was a random character. But search engines are a deus ex machina to not knowing. To the unknowing. Apparently, there is a Ulises Lima.

Mario Santiago Papasquiaro. Mexican, born 1953. Petatió: 1998. 

*** TEMPORALITY FLASH.

Will I ever overcome my financial loss on books? I ordered a translation of Papasquiaro’s posthumously translated, Poetry Comes Out of My Mouth (2018). 

The cover depicts a matryoshka of an embodied grieving face,  evaporating an echo, reflecting its own echo. Apparently, the poet, (I) co-founded an infra-realist literary movement (collective auto-fiction with raw artistic expressions) and (II) hated Octavio Paz. Two particular scenes evoked laughter: the mythologizing of Opus Dei running the school and Luis Sebastian fearing the terrorizing kidnapping of Octavio Paz as Luscious Skin warned that the Visceral Realist were cooking up something. Moreover, I enjoy the picture of Arturo Belano the characters are weaving. He is serious about visceral realism…. and he is doing it out of love?  There is a narrative thread I am interested in: Jacinto Requena and Xóchitl García. Maybe their narrative thread will not be developed much, though I appreciate their account of Belano. Belano as affective and funny. I am excited to see how each accounts further develops a holistic picture of Belano and Ulises Lima, albeit I am afraid the narrative will feel like this with so many “interviews” to get through:

Works Cited

Read the Poet Behind Roberto Bolaño’s Ulises Lima

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. I remember someone mentioning in one of our discussions that García Madero was curious about his sexuality because he was so keen to know more about Ernesto San Epifanio and the pictures he was showing him, and in one of the interviews we find out that he slept with Luis Sebastián Rosado; I must admit I did not see that coming. And 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.

For my second blog on The Savage Detectives, it took me a moment to try and decide what an appropriate title could be for my post. I’ve called it “Additional Context” because as I was reading, especially with the characters we saw little glimpses of in the first part, more of the puzzle was starting to come together. The opinions on visceral realism and the ways in which everyone is somehow connected to each other was all starting to fall into place and make a bit more sense. To be honest, I found this format of many short stories or recollections from an array of perspectives less engaging than the first part, which focused on García Madero’s perspective. However, I think it is just a personal preference as I enjoy getting into details with characters, and I do think the format of the these following chapters was relevant for the novel.

I found that certain characters such as Luscious Skin, María Font, Alberto, Laura and others, were all portrayed in the second part of the novel quite differently than the first part. I don’t think this is too shocking, considering that in the first part of the book, what we initially learn about the people in García Madero’s life are purely from his point of view. One example of this difference in portrayal was with Luscious Skin, where he calls himself a “peace-loving person” and claims he never hit Belano, despite strongly disliking him. If I had only read the first part of the book, based on the depictions of his violent sexual behaviour, I wouldn’t use peace-loving as an adjective to describe him. María’s account of the events that transpired after García Madero and the others took her father’s Impala and escaped also demonstrates the differences of what we learn, compared to when the story is told from just García Madero’s point of view. In the first part of the novel, María is understood to be very sexually liberal, compared to her sister, but in her own account specifically on page 194 (of the Picador edition), she talks about how during one of her last conversations with Belano and Ulises, that we as readers know of, that she was supposedly tempted to sleep with both of them, but she stays silent. While the contrast between Angelíca and María in terms of their sexual experiences already reveals themes of misogyny and sexuality during this era, I think this also spoke to María’s agency, and her turmoil in not understanding how to navigate emotionally complex situations. Her situation is not unique however, this avoidance, escapism and redirection of emotions seems to manifest in almost every single character. Right before her account, we have another one from Jacinto, that overtly highlighted the visceral realism movement as a facade to distract from something much more serious and looming. Jacinto, who is having a child with Xóchitl, did not focus on finding a job to support his family, but instead spent every single day talking about poetry, and supposedly pouring his soul into the movement. However, I think the movement is also producing hierarchies, as Jacinto seemingly has jealous feelings towards Belano, not because he flirts with Xóchitl, but because he has authority over everyone else.

Finally, my thoughts on Auxilio’s piece at the very end of this section. I really enjoyed her point of view. It was dramatic and it had me wondering if a soldier or someone else was going to find her in the bathrooms. She spoke of the university being violated multiple times, which I think explains why she finds such solace and importance in poetry, because it gives her an avenue to grapple with traumatic or painful events. If anything, I understand and believe she has a genuine connection to poetry the most out of anyone we’ve been introduced to so far. This has left me excited to read Amulet in the coming weeks.

Thank you for reading my post this week!