I thoroughly enjoyed this novel, particularly the style of prose. I love poetry, so this was a riveting read. It is not surprising that an author writing about poets is a poet himself, and thus uses poetic language/devices in his writing. One of my favourite lines is, “women, dust and literature have always gone together” (4)—what’s yours? I also like the moments where Bolano pokes fun at the absurdity of poets (eg. “the poets educated me in Mexican literature by lending me books, their own books of poems for a start [you know what poets are like]” [17])
I took SPAN 280 last semester, which is a course centred around the different Latin American revolutions. Though we did not read this particular novel, we explored texts written by certain revolutionaries, including Che Guevara, who is mentioned on pages 122-123 (in a rather odd context, I might add). Having prior knowledge going into this novel definitely aided my understanding of what was happening in Mexico during this time. Funnily enough, I am also taking a Classics course honing in on Greek tragedies this semester, so I already knew the tale of Electra and Orestes when their story was mentioned by Coffeen (eg. “Electra and Orestes, the children of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, decide to avenge their father and regain control of the kingdom” [139]). I didn’t, however, know the story “of the daughter of Clytemnestra and Aegisthus, Erigone” (139). Horrifying stuff. I also appreciated when Ovid popped up in the beginning of the novel (eg. “He opened his mouth as if gasping for air, […] and said something about the Art of Love, by Ovid” [18]).
It was nice having LGBT+ representation, with the appearance of Ernesto San Epifanio, albeit this section of the novel is deeply upsetting. The author does make it clear “this is going to be a horror story” (1) from the very beginning, so Ernesto’s background is perhaps in keeping with theme, also shining light on certain tragic realities. Still, I grow tired of there being little room for queer joy in novels depicting the experiences of LGBT+ folks. However, I know this is (sadly) not the novel for it. On a different note, the quote discussing how women are “brought up […] to be polite in all circumstances” (24) resonated with me; Bolano has zeroed in on some hard truths about women’s lived experiences, which I think is very touching and speaks to his character, though (obviously) I do not know him personally.
I think the sections where our protagonist wanders through the icy landscape, and then the valley (eg. “I left the immense regions of snow behind and saw a valley before me” [178]) is similar to the funeral procession in Bombal’s The Shrouded Woman. Did anyone else catch this? Or did this novel remind you of a different one you’ve read, in or outside of this class?
I think you make interesting points in your post. I also think that it is interesting that the narrator is a poet, and it shows in the way the words kind of flow, even though it is a translation. To answer your question, I think this part of wandering is a way to show that these huge events that are happening in Mexico and in Latin America, are actually small compared to the history of the world, and that it is important to understand how our traumatic history is just a small event in time. That is the feeling I got as I read it.
It’s interesting, Neko, the connections you make with the classes you’ve taken and your knowledge. This ties in with the reading contexts we’ve talked about in other classes, the reading context in British Columbia in 2022, as Jon says, and the particular contexts of each of us.
By the way, you are right that the introduction of Che Guevara is a bit strange. But it also reflects Che’s stay in Mexico, where he meets the Cuban exiles. Many of those young Latin Americans in the context of the novel were inspired by Che and Fidel, who is also mentioned in Amulet.