RMST 495/520: Long Books

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 realists 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-

“I never met a Mexican who knew how to rig a phone, maybe because we weren’t ready for the modern world.” — Edith Oster

In this week’s reading, I’ve completely lost track of the characters. This was a perfect example of “form” reinforcing “content”. The form becomes so polyphonic that we cannot help but lose track of the characters and forget the names of old friends, reflecting Arturo and Ulises’ venture into new worlds, but also a symptom of modernity, a theme that became prominent in this section.

This section has many surreal stories, almost mythic. There’s André and the lottery numbers that came to him in a trance, the Devil is seen in a chasm behind a campsite in Galicia, Jacobo runs into Arturo three times in Africa out of chance, Ulises and Octavio Paz walk in circles in the park as if playing out an ancient ritual. Norman dies in a car accident only after a satisfactory telling of Ulises’ story — as though he’d done his job relaying this important message. Myth is almost the opposite of modernity. Myths have prehistoric colours. Every story has a hidden meaning and it’s better not to look into it too closely, just like André knows better to overdraft his luck with lotteries. All these poets and artists who aren’t ready for modernity started to tell stories shrouded in myth, going in the other direction, drawing swords and not guns on the hot empty beach reminiscent of the beach in Camus’s L’Étranger.

“Worst-case scenario, I’ll be bringing Pachuca into the modern age,” says Ernesto García Grajales, the only expert on visceral realists in Mexico. What is the despicable “modernity” they are talking about? Why do the visceral realists fear or loath or just aren’t ready for it?— this is my question of the week, and I will try to answer it too.

I think we can find examples of so-called “modern” writers in Chapter 23 — successful writers. One abandons his mailwoman girlfriend who supported him financially for years, as soon as he wins a prize. Another thinks all day about how to suck up to the big names in literature and not offend their friends — phoney! These harshly realistic and methodical ways of making a name for oneself in literature is the complete opposite of the free-spirited visceral realists who do not know what a plan is — though visceral realists also leech off of women.

Have a clear goal, move forwards towards happiness, that’s modernity. ““I think we make a wonderful couple: people look at us and nod their heads. We embody optimism and the future in a certain way, a way that’s pragmatic and thoughtful too.” Says Pablo de Valle, the jerk who abandoned his mailwoman girlfriend at the first sight of fame.

The visceral realists do not have a goal and are definitely not headed for happiness. Here’s where Amadeo gets it wrong:

–       Stridentism and visceral realism are just two masks to get us to where we really want to go.

–       And where is that? she said.

–       To modernity, Cesárea, I said, to goddamned modernity.

–       And Cesárea gave me a look, a brief little sideways glance, and said that the search for a place to live and a place to work was the common fate of all mankind.

The visceral realists are in constant stage of searching — for belonging, for happiness, whatever. Like a reciprocal function that will never reach the axis.

This could be one of Cesárea’s poems, right?

Maybe to constantly search is to be constantly lost.

Photos: Front cover of the novel « The Savage Detectives » and image of author Roberto Bolaño

First immediate reactions after reading Chapters 18 to 26:

Wow, this week’s reading felt ridiculously long! Simply, it was too long a read with too many things happening all at once. I can’t explain it, but I am thrilled to have finished reading Part II of The Savage Detectives. Many times did I ask whether I was anywhere close to Chapter 26.

General Reactions:

Reading Bolaño is always like stepping into a puzzle, and this section was no different. First, we meet Ernesto García Grajales, who claims he’s the ultimate expert on the visceral realists in Mexico City. Honestly, the way he narrates where each member ended up (i.e., some dead, some disappeared, some still moving on with life, and some God knows where they’ve gone) makes me realize how fleeting literary fame can be.

Overall, this was an interesting part to read. That is, it’s like going through a family album of forgotten poets from the visceral realists.

Eventually, we stumble into Amadeo Salvatierra’s world, recalling and remembering Cesárea Tinajero when no one else does. The devotion to memory, the way he keeps her magazine alive, I found it endearing. I felt an odd warmth reading about someone who takes on the charge of remembering a life that others have forgotten. It felt as if Amadeo was holding onto something – something hopeful by remembering Tinagero.

Then things get really odd when Salvatierra meets the two boys with Cesárea’s poem. One’s asleep, the other awake, both murmuring, promising to find her works, sometimes in their sleep. Reading this was confusing at first, and honestly, I didn’t love it as much when reading the part. It was all so mysterious in some sense – a bit abstract and puzzling to try to figure out what was happening here and why? I had to stop and think, who’s talking? Who’s awake? It’s chaotic, but that’s the thing with Bolaño: you feel like you’re there, hovering between what feels like a dream and what you know is reality.

And later, there’s this amazing moment when the two boys insist that they’re doing it not for Amadeo, but rather for Mexico, or Latin America, or whatever other reasons. To me, at least, the passion of these two youths, their devotion to literature and memory, was kinda moving to read that part.

By the time I finished reading Chapter 26, I was completely and utterly left with a mix of admiration and extreme exhaustion. Bolaño doesn’t just tell you his story, but rather, he makes you feel the obsession, the confusion, the despair, the hope, the journey, the climax, the questions, the answers, and the immense energy of reading and re-reading a forgotten literary and poetic world.

Discussion Question:

Feel free to answer it in any way, related to the text or in your own lived experiences =)

Why do people sometimes go to great lengths to preserve or look for art, music, or writing that most others have forgotten? What motivates some others to possess this kind of dedication?

I’m asking this because I want to reflect on why some of the characters were so interested in finding Cesárea Tinajero’s literary work. I find it interesting how chasing forgotten literary works shows their passion, their memory, and their hope. Why does keeping cultural history alive matter to them, these youths from Mexico?

After thinking for a while about the “Everything that begins as comedy ends as ___” lines from chapter 23 of The Savage Detectives, it occurred to me that these phrases don’t strike me as having much to do with comedy, or tragedy, or (maybe) even literature. Mostly, they make me think about how everything just ends — whether that’s a book, or a childhood, or a relationship, or the search for a lost poet. It’s the end of Visceral Realism. It’s the end of another stay in another city where another poet tries to start again. It’s the end of the war that precedes the next war.

(I want to add, I don’t really feel as down about endings as the above might suggest. I think endings are fascinating. I’m looking forward to finding out how Bolaño will deal with the ending of such a lengthy story.)

Another thing I’ve been thinking about this week is the practice of gifting books. Or giving and receiving books. At the end of chapter 24, María Teresa Solsona Ribot writes: “[Belano] gave me four books that I still haven’t read. A week later we said goodbye, and I went with him to the station” (557). When I compare this instance with how Juan García Madero is given books by the other poets in the first section of the novel, I get the sense that there has been a shift in the role of the book as a material thing in Belano’s life (and maybe in the lives of similar figures, like Ulises Lima). Before, it seemed like the gifted books were meant to be absorbed, like they contained lessons just waiting to be learned by the poet/writer who received them. Now, I feel like the gifted books are taking the place of other things — maybe things that Belano doesn’t know how to give; or, maybe they’re supposed to take his place, make up for his absence somehow. For a recipient like María Teresa, I’m not sure that Belano’s books are going to do the job.

Speaking of the materiality of the book: I guess damaging Amulet wasn’t enough, because my copy of The Savage Detectives is also starting to fall apart. She’s peeling a little at the spine now. I’ve bandaged books with tape before, but I always feel sort of bad about it.

My question(s) of the week: How do you feel about giving and receiving books? Would you ever gift someone a book that they had never mentioned wanting to read?

I’m running out of things to write about. This is our fifth blog post on Bolaño, which will make about 2000 words by the end of this, and I’m struggling to come up with likes or dislikes that I haven’t already harped on about. I’m liking the book well enough by now, which is more to do with the amount of time I’ve invested than anything else.

My favourite section from this week took place early on in the reading, where we have Edith Oster, “sitting on a bench in the Alameda” (424). She speaks on meeting Belano for the first time, a casual meeting in Mexico City, and then their subsequent acquaintance in Barcelona.

I think mostly I loved the vibes/aesthetic/energy of this entry, of an artist and all her artist connections and experiences in various artsy cities. I also loved the existential thought processes, first causing her to end her relationship with Abraham and then with her both not caring if she died and fostering an intense love of living. This led to the weirdly intense (kind of a one-sided therapy-esque?) relationship she grew with Belano in such a relatively short time: “I knew, I was conscious of the fact, that there were many things I hadn’t told him that I probably needed to tell him or should tell him, and I thought that if I died riding or if the horse threw me or if a branch in the pine forest knocked me to the ground, Arturo would know everything I hadn’t told him and would understand it without needing to hear it from my lips” (429). She had all this trauma and all this inspiration and plans for her film, and yet she chose to spend so much energy making sure that this one specific person understood her. Then, it was like once she finally finished telling her entire life story (after moving in with him), she got bored of him and left for somewhere new to do it all over again (iconic). I also appreciated that the ending of this section, while not particularly happy, was still hopeful (out of medical care and with a new job) (makes for a pleasant enough ending).

I guess my questions going forward into the final section of our reading are predictably pretty focused on the idea of conclusions. How do you conclude a long book and do you have to do it differently than a short book (is there added incentive or responsibility to make it worth the extra effort of suffering through to the end)? How do I myself want/expect/need Bolaño to end this (what kind of final section could be satisfying versus what would feel like a waste of 600 pages)?

Hi everyone, I cannot believe we are nearly finished the book, it feels like time has flown by in terms of this course and the rest of the semester. At the same time, this book continues to drag itself out and always finds something else to say. I still like the book, but as it is coming to an end, I am pretty certain that I would likely have never read this book in my life had it not been for this class. That’s not a good thing or a bad thing, but I cannot think of a book that is too similar to The Savage Detectives that I have read before. In comparison to Amulet and my self selected book; those are more aligned with what I typically read. While reading this part of the book, I did not love it or hate it. It feels like world building to me because we are introduced to more characters, told more stories that are loosely related to the main characters that were first introduced in the book, and are given more contextual clues as to these stories interlock and what it means. However, this meaning (based on my own thoughts and reading through other’s blog posts) is subjective. My last initial thought on this part made me think of something Jon said in class, which was that J.K Rowling needed an editor. I kind of feel the same way about this particular chunk of the book.

I think one of my favourite interviews of the section we read was Joaqín Font’s, on page 400. The sentence “Freedom is like a prime number.” had me pause for a minute before getting into the task of reading the next 188 pages. Prime numbers are natural numbers only have two factors; the number itself and one. Did this mean that Joaquín thought his freedom and liberty was in his own hands, or did this mean that aren’t really many pathways to anyone’s freedom, even if it may seem like there is. I felt bad for him because he was thinking about his poor Impala being taken and worn down. I would be upset about that too. “I knew that we were ruled by fate and that we would all drown in the storm, and I knew that only the cleverest, myself certainly not included, would stay afloat much longer” (406). Drown in what? The revolution of visceral realism, the rejection of freedom or something completely else? It is hard to say with certainty.

Well folks, we’re finally approaching the end of The Savage Detectives, yet for some reason, I don’t quite have the same feeling I usually get with other works of fiction nearing their inevitable end. Perhaps this is just the nature of long books, or maybe it’s just how Bolaño writes, or maybe it’s solely The Savage Detectives that produces this unique feeling. What is this feeling you ask? To be honest, I’m not completely sure and it’s hard to put in words… but let me try anyways!

Upon starting this week’s reading on page 400, we were already more than halfway done (pagewise at least, one could argue that a book’s halfway point shouldn’t actually be measured in pages, but that’s another discussion for another day), by this point I’m sure we’ve all realized we have many questions based on this portion of The Savage Detectives. What happened to García Madero? Who is conducting these interviews? What exactly are the purposes of these interviews? Who/what is the meaning of the book and part’s title of “The Savage Detectives”? The list goes on and on. Now I can’t speak for everyone in the class, but for me at least, I expected to get the answers to some of these questions in the latter chapters of Part II. Nothing, nada, zilch. Quite frankly I think the list of questions I have now is longer than that of the beginning of this week’s reading, completely going against my expectations. Yet the feeling I have is not of frustration nor confusion. Why though? Partway through I think I realized that we would never get the answers to most of these questions, and I became at peace with that fact. I know the professor has made references to a moment in Part II where something just clicked for him or he had some revelation (I don’t remember the exact words he used). For me though, it was more like a slow burn over time. It should be noted that I’m not even sure if we’re both referring to the same thing, so just to be clear, I’m talking about the realization that our questions would never be answered, something deep down I always had a slight suspicion of but didn’t want to admit. If I had to pick a moment in my reading when I finally came to that realization, it was around the first mention that Belano had previously had a wife and child: “Have you seen your son? Yes, he said. How is he? Very well, he said, good-looking, getting bigger every day. And your ex-wife? Very well, he said” (491). Who was his wife? Where did they meet? When did he have a child? Why did they separate? All these questions that I would speculate about certainly came to mind, and under different (more normal) circumstances I would expect them to be answered in later pages, but this time I knew… I knew I wouldn’t get those answers. In chapter 24, Belano’s ex-wife and child are again mentioned in Maria Teresa Solsona’s account, and like I had guessed, no real answers, only more questions. These “answers” aren’t really the point though. Bolaño isn’t writing some grand mystery that will be solved, we aren’t (savage) “detectives”, these many short stories within The Savage Detectives aren’t some kind of Chekhov’s Gun (in fact, quite the opposite), and there is no big climax that we’re building toward in Part III! The uncertainty, the fragments of Belano’s life, we’ll never truly know and that’s the point. Belano is Bolaño’s sort of alter ego, and through the telling of Belano’s life he shares with us the generation of these Latin American poets he belonged to, a documentation of his life. In the real world, life isn’t filled with neat answers and closure like in many books, and The Savage Detectives reflects that, which makes it feel “real” in a sense. I’m not really sure, maybe I’ve gotten it all wrong (can you even be wrong? what each person feels and the meaning they get from their reading is unique to them and inherently right), maybe I don’t mean to say “wrong,” what I’m saying is tomorrow I might feel differently about The Savage Detectives (after all I just finished reading this portion yesterday so I’ve had less than 24 hours to digest), or I might feel differently after I read Part III, or maybe in a year from now. Who knows? (Hu, me, I know) I’m just giving my first impressions of what I’ve read. As for my discussion question this week, I’d like to ask: “Were there any aha moments for you guys this week as you were reading? If so, when?” Maybe that aha moment is still yet to come and actually in Part III. Another potential discussion question I was thinking about was: “Who do you think is conducting these interviews?” Personally, I think it’s a mix of García Madero, Belano, and potentially others, but as I was saying before, I doubt we’ll ever know and I’m content with never knowing. (By the way, in Andres Ramirez’s account, is he actually referring to Belano directly or just saying his name recounting it as if he were: “I was destined to be a failure, Belano, take my word for it” (406). However, there are also several accounts like the one with Xose Lendoiro, the lawyer, that would undoubtedly not have been conducted by Belano which is one of the reasons why I believe there has to be a mix of interviewers)

Now I’ll just go over some more random thoughts and parts I found interesting with no real structure to it (my blog, my rules). I really loved the story Felipe Muller told at the end of chapter 19, it was sweet, short, and above all, quite strange. In the last chapter with Ernesto García Grajales, the self-proclaimed expert on the visceral realists, we finally get a mention of our boy García Madero! I like to believe that it’s García Madero himself asking Ernesto if he’s heard of García Madero just because everyone else has seemed to have forgotten him. I might actually be dead wrong here though, García Madero might not even be alive by the very end of Part III… Also, how bizarre was that whole part on the duel? I found it kind of funny and amusing in a way, and I wonder if this was actually based on something that happened in Bolaño’s life. On another note, I felt a bit bad when Norman died and I was very curious to know what that “Everything, the most important thing of all” was exactly (482) (yet another question to remain unanswered). One of my favourite characters has to be Maria Teresa Solsona, she struck me as very caring, grounded, and someone I’d like to have as a friend. Finally, it was interesting to see a glimpse of Octavio Paz but then sad to see how Ulises Lima was nowhere to be found on the list of Mexican poets (oh the poor, forgotten visceral realists). Okay, that’s it for now! Everything that begins as jumbled first impressions of a book inevitably ends as jumbled first impressions of a book.

P.S. Edith Oster refers to one of Arutro’s old lovers as Santa Teresa: “Right away I knew it was one of Arturo’s old lovers. I called her Santa Teresa” (432). If you didn’t already know, Santa Teresa is the name of the infamous city in 2666 so I just wanted to point that out. Feel free to check out my other blog posts on 2666 (where there are plenty more questions that will without a doubt go unanswered)!

HELLO EVERYBODY!!!

And its time to go back to Bolano. I don’t think I am ever enthusiastic to read “The savage detectives” but i always find some pieces that i find interesting. There are a few diaries or testimonies that i read with passion because i want to know how they end or if there is any clue for the future. Here are some reflections.
The diary of Pablo del valle was interesting to me because he starts by mentioning the honor of a poet but he doesn’t seem like someone that has much honor. He is portrayed as highly opportunistic and cold. Yet , he is haunted by the footsteps of a previous girlfriend with whom he never found a strong connection. He always judged her for her work , dated her for a while , then broke up with her ( nicely ish…) and then moves on so quickly (517-518).I mean this is the type of character who fits perfectly in the novel but i find it weird that someone like him would feel remorse for what he did to his previous girlfriend. He is a savage detective in a way because he is looking at his past with an unorthodox perspective to find out why he can’t let go the memory of his ex( he dreams about getting dragged to hell). He knows that what he did was messed up but why his actions weighted so much on him. Maybe she is a reminder of what he used to be before he became a successful writer and felt that he could have done more for her.Sometimes you become the victim of your own horrors.
The first testimony was also pleasant to read. It is a classic SD type of writing. It’s melancholic , hopeful ( the discussions about a better future) and the details about Mexico’s social problems. I like the perspective of Joaquin Font because it shows how life keeps moving forward and sometimes it let you be just a spectator who has no voice in the decisions your family makes. When he mentioned that he got beaten up and didn’t care much about it (401) suggests me a deep emotional detachment as if the violence in Mexico no longer shocks him. His final line confirms to me that his life is rather tragic .People are controlled by forces that are not necessarily human and he will definitely not survive what is about to come.
The future of most of the writers in this chunk of the story doesn’t seem very hopeful.
Discussion question:

Do you think that most of the VR have a bleak future? What can they do to scape it?

Joaquin Font: In this section he comes back home to realize his family has moved on without him and are busy with their own lives. He states, “my wife, it seemed, has remarried” on page 355. On the same page he mentions that his daughter Maria was living elsewhere and she does not meet with her brother or sister. The other two children are busy with their own partners. You can clearly tell he is struggling with loneliness in this section as he tries to build a routine by walking around the neighbourhood and connecting with people through conversations. The line about his wife moving on was lowkey sad to read because it shows that life moved on without him. Even though he was not there his family had to keep living and now it probably feels like he is an outsider in his own home. You can even see him reminiscing as he states “the room still retained a certain air of happy, carefree adolescence” on page 355. Even though he feels alone, the room reminds him of a happier time when his children were younger and life was probably better. I like this part because it shows nostalgia and how the most random things can become nostalgic. He follows this up by saying “after three days the room only smelled like me, in other words, like old age and madness, and everything went back to the way it was before. I got depressed and didn’t know what to do.” This shift kind of reflects the reality of a lot of individuals where you might think you are doing better than you hit a new low again. That line was sad because it shows that his views on himself are negative and he perceives himself as someone who does not belong anymore and he is still defining himself through his struggles. Although Joaquin is not a main character and feels more of a floater or supporting character I still liked the theme his story added to the bigger picture. It feels relatable because a lot of times an individual might feel disconnected from reality and they are unsure of where they belong and this part captures that really well. Even though he is not a central character his reality depicts the contrast between an idealistic poet vs the more harsh reality of adulthood. It also reflects the reality of other characters in the book as they felt disconnected from the places they belonged. 

Discussion Question: How does Joaquin Font’s story reflect alienation?