Literature brushes past these literary creatures and kisses them on the lips, but they don’t even notice.
– Labyrinth - Roberto Bolaño available at The New Yorker here.
Literature brushes past these literary creatures and kisses them on the lips, but they don’t even notice.
– Labyrinth - Roberto Bolaño available at The New Yorker here.
He was something of an anachronism: a great novelist who was not a great writer.
–
The Book Bench: In the Labyrinth: A User’s Guide to Bolaño : The New Yorker
Totally wanna beat this dude upppp! Intellectually and with my fists!
(via aliciakennedy)
It gets worse:
“The Third Reich” should join that shelf marked “For Completists Only,” on which also sit “Antwerp,” “Monsieur Pain,” “The Romantic Dogs,” “Between Parentheses,” and “The Skating Rink.”
Oh and of course:
Avoid “2666” for as long as possible, and for heaven’s sake, don’t start with it. The book is a desert of negative space across which the panting reader will search in vain for the traditional pleasures of the novel: form, character, coherence, meaning.
The latter bit did actually make me laugh out loud - it’s a good line, just one that emphatically doesn’t apply to Bolaño.
(via aliciakennedy)
