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Archive for April, 2010

David Lipsky–Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself [Afterword] (2010)

Posted in Books about writers, David Foster Wallace, David Lipsky, Death, Drugs, Fears, Infinite Summer, Infinite Zombies, Roberto Bolaño, Suicide, Travel on April 20, 2010| 1 Comment »

[READ:April 19, 2010] Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself [Afterword]

I was pretty excited to get back to work (!) and find the final two Bolaño books that I wanted to read.  (I had planned to read all of Bolaño’s published-in-English works before finishing 2666, except, of course for The Savage Detectives, which is very large (and which is, ironically, the book of his that I wanted to read first–before I got involved in the madness of 2666–and for Amulet, which is a novella based on a character in Savage (and therefore should be read after it, right?).  These two books are Romantic Dogs and The Distant Star.

But then I saw it, the one thing that could arrest my Bolañomania: the David Lipsky book about David Foster Wallace.  I didn’t realize it was coming out so soon, and in fact I had forgotten it was coming at all.  But there it was.  Well, I read the blurb, I saw the cover, I read the details, and I knew there was no way I’d be reading anything but that for the next few days. (more…)

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Roberto Bolaño–2666 [Week 13] The Part About Archimboldi (2 of 4) (2004)

Posted in Adventure, Big Books, bolanobolano.com, Books about writers, Communists, Culture Shock, Death, Fears, Foreign Books, Giuseppe Arcimboldo, Gustav Courbet, History, Humiliation, Infinite Zombies, Military, Natasha Wimmer, Nazis, Newspapers, Paul Simon, Roberto Bolaño, Romance, Sci-fi, Sex, Ska, Suicide, Translation, Travel, Vampire Weekend, Violence, Wikipedia, Yuck! on April 19, 2010| 2 Comments »

SOUNDTRACK: VAMPIRE WEEKEND-Contra (2010).

I absolutely loved Vampire Weekend’s debut album (and still do).  It was my favorite record of last summer and always makes me think of summer fun and hijinx.  Critics trotted out the “world/ethno/Paul Simon” vibe when discussing the album.  But I really didn’t hear it.  I mean, yes  I suppose it was there but the album felt more like a punky ska album of fun.

On this, their follow up, it’s as if they took all those critics to heart and decided to make the album that everyone was describing. This disc emphasizes all of the ethnic music sounds,  and downplays the guitars and more rock elements.  I was a little disappointed by this on the first listen or two.  However, subsequent listens showed me that the songwriting was still there and it was just as strong.

There’s still lots of rocking elements, it’s just that they are hidden under the other divergent influences.  But for the most part, the album is still bouncey and full of fun summer tunes.  There are three songs that slow down the pace, “Taxi Cab” and “Diplomat’s Son” (at 6 minutes, it’s a little long).  And the final song “I Think Ur a Contra” is a bit too divorced of beats (it works as an end to the disc, but I’d never listen to it on purpose).

The rest of the disc however, is very enjoyable, and I find that the 7 other songs work just as well as anything off the debut. “Horchata” is a delightfully fun world music treat (I hear Paul Simon, yes, although come on, Graceland came out 24 years ago!).  “White Sky” has delightfully catchy falsetto screams.  “Holiday” is practically classic ska and “Cousins” has a delightfully tricky guitar riff.

This feels like a band who has matured and experimented and yet not lost track of who they are.  I’m really looking forward to their next release.

[READ: Week of April 12, 2010]  2666 [pg 702-765]

Last week I concluded that

It almost seems as though Bolaño is saying that even Nazi Germany is better than Santa Teresa.

Oh how wrong I was.  Despite the fact that I found the bulk of this section enjoyable and fascinating (twisted and dark certainly, but fascinating nonetheless), the ending killed me.  The opening’s entire writers among writers, within writers, with communist party members and secret diaries was completely captivating.  And then it is all shattered by the reality of WWII. (more…)

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Diane Williams–“Ten Stories” (Harper’s, May 2010)

Posted in Diane Williams, Flash Fiction, Harper's, Holidays, Short Story, Sonic, South, Sweet Tea, The Dead Milkmen, Waffle House on April 18, 2010| Leave a Comment »

SOUNDTRACK: THE WAFFLE HOUSE Jukebox, Williamsburg, Va (2010).

My family doesn’t normal eat in chain restaurants.  We’d much rather buy local.  So, even if TGIF is good, we don’t know that.  And we pretty much never eat anywhere that has a drive through.  It’s a silly principle, but we have so few principles, that we can usually stick to it.

The big exception comes when we travel!  Especially to the south.  Because there is nothing as exciting as the Waffle House or the Sonic logo.  (I want to do Hardee’s but the Dead Milkmen have spoilt it for me).  And, mmm, sweet tea!

Anyhow, we were enjoying the awesome Pecan Waffles at a Waffle House in Virginia and the quiet jukebox suddenly shouted Turn It Up!  And proceeded to play some kind of honky tonk song.  We were startled.  But it did add some ambience to the place.

I’ve no idea who the singer was or what song it was, and I’m not about to track it down.  But what started off as a pretty obvious twangy honky tonking song ended up being quiet enjoyable.  The guitars were pretty rocking, there was a wild solo at the end, and then the song was over.

It wasn’t quite as enjoyable as the biscuits and gravy, but it was fine nonetheless.  Although the sweet tea was a little too sweet.

[READ: April 17, 2010] “Ten Stories”

Since I’ve been on vacation, I thought I’d come back with a simple, easy story.  This turned out to be ten stories, all of about 3 pages.  And, even though Williams recently won the Pushcart Prize (for a different story), I really got nothing from this collection at all. (more…)

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The Inbetweeners (2008-2009)

Posted in BBC America, Boredom, Canadian Music, Cars, Drinking, Feist, Free Speech, Funny (ha ha), Holidays, Humiliation, Language, Marriage Trouble, Neurotics, Romance, Set at School, Sex, Smarty Pants, The Inbetweeners, Toilets, TV 2010, Vampire Weekend, Virginity (Loss of), Wikipedia, Word usage on April 17, 2010| Leave a Comment »

[WATCHED: 2010]  The Inbetweeners

I don’t often write about one TV show at a time, but I’m on vacation this week, so I’m taking it easy.

One of our favorite new shows is (big surprise) a  British comedy (that is airing in the States on BBC America) called The Inbetweeners.  There’s not much terribly original about the premise of the show: four unpopular blokes in secondary school grouse about being unpopular and hatch ways of scoring with the [insert staggering variety of vulgar words for women here] in their class.  And I’m not exactly sure what it is about the show that is so [bleeping] funny.  Perhaps it is the simply brutally vulgar humor, or the excessively horny attitudes, or maybe it is the self-awareness of the vulgarity (by the not exactly prudish but at the same time creeped-out-by-his-friends narrator (“That sounds a bit rape-y, Jay”)), but the show never stops being stomach-hurtingly funny. (more…)

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Dear Stephen Fry, Re: New Jersey

Posted in Essays, Gambling, History, LGBTQ, Paul Debraski, Salt Water Taffy, Set in New Jersey!, Stephen Fry on April 16, 2010| 4 Comments »

Dear Mr Fry,

I’ve been a fan of your comedy for years. When I saw on The Late Late Show that you had a (relatively) new book called Stephen Fry in America, I was thrilled that you were presumably getting some attention Stateside. I immediately rushed out to get your book.

I have now read all of the first section (New England and the East Coast) and some of the second section (South East and Florida).  And while I intend to write a full post about your book (which is very amusing), I think you owe my great state of New Jersey a big whopping apology.

I admit that in the introduction, you say that we may not enjoy everything you say about a state, or that you probably didn’t visit our town or some other way of saying that we shouldn’t be cross about what you write.  And I was prepared for that.  But, of all the states I’ve read so far, New Jersey is the only one that you had NOTHING good to say about it.  You called it a hell and couldn’t wait to leave.  But worse than that, the only place you talk about in New Jersey is Atlantic City as if that gambling meccas was somehow indicative of the entire state.

Everyone knows that Atlantic City is disgusting and horrifying.  But the reason for it has nothing to with New Jersey itself.  The reason is twofold: gambling and Donald Trump.  And the rest of our fine state has no gambling (aside from the lottery, but who doesn’t) and we aren’t owned by Donald Trump. (more…)

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Roberto Bolaño–Antwerp (2002) [translated 2010]

Posted in bolanobolano.com, Books about writers, cuppa joe, Death, Foreign Books, Huh?, Infinite Zombies, Natasha Wimmer, Oddities, Poetry, Poets, Punks, Roberto Bolaño, Sex, Short Books, The Dead Milkmen, Translation, Unreliable narrator, Violence on April 15, 2010| 1 Comment »

SOUNDTRACK: THE DEAD MILKMEN-Not Richard But Dick (1993).

After the mature Milkmen of Soul Rotation, they followed up with this mini disc (at 28 minutes it’s probably an EP (even the title suggests that maybe it’s an EP) but it’s not considered one).

This album is a bit more twisted that Soul Rotation, although it still offers some of this newer more mature music.

The two most twisted songs are the largely spoken-word “I Dream of Jesus.”  It’s a rant in which the singer (who now goes by the name Arr. Trad.) talks about his mother keeping Jesus in a bottle, and the ramifications that that can have.  (It also features a sung chorus of “Jesus Loves Me”).  “Let’s Get the Baby High” has vocals that are processed so who knows who is singing.  But the title is pretty much spot on for the content of the song.

And you can pretty guess who is singing “The Infant of Prague Customized My Van.”

Butterfly Fairweather once again sings the bulk of the songs.  And most of them are fast rockers. The first song, “Leggo My Ego” could have been a hit (with the cool keboard opening) and “Little Volcano” probably should have been a  hit, it’s very catchy.

He’s also on vocals for some of those mellow songs (that remind me so much of Dromedary Records’ Cuppa Joe.  In fact, “Not Crazy” could have been done by Cuppa Joe.

The final song is a wonderfully hilarious Lou Reed impersonation with simple guitar chords, and a tin whistle!  It’s a very mellow spoken word piece about “The Woman Who was Also a Mongoose”.

Not Richard But Dick is no longer in print (Hollywood Records really gave DM the shaft).  I’m not sure if it’s worth tracking down at this point, but there’s some interesting and fun stuff on this disc.

[READ: April 7, 2010] Antwerp

Continuing with Roberto Bolaño’s fascinating melange of styles, Antwerp (technically the first “novel” he wrote (circa 1980 although he didn’t have it published until 2002) is a series of numbered sections.  I’ve heard it described as a prose poem, and, given his (at the time) recent switch from poetry to prose, that makes sense.

I had read an excerpt from this some time ago, and I found it difficult to read as excerpts.  Unsurprisingly, I also found the entire thing a challenge as well.  And that’s because, wow, there is so much crammed into these 79 pages, and there are so many different points of view and so many unclear events (written in great detail, but trying to piece those events together…phew) that even after reading it twice, I’m still not entirely sure what’s going on. (more…)

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Roberto Bolaño–Last Evenings on Earth (1997/2001 trans. 2006)

Posted in bolanobolano.com, Books about writers, Chris Andrews, Communists, Culture Shock, Death, Dreams, Drinking, Foreign Books, Funny (ha ha), Funny (strange), Ghosts, History, Humiliation, Infinite Zombies, LGBTQ, Marriage Trouble, Mystery, Nature, Nazis, Neurotics, Oddities, Poets, Political Humor, Religion, Roberto Bolaño, Romance, Sex, Short Story, Suicide, The Dead Milkmen, Threats, Translation, Travel, Violence, Yuck! on April 14, 2010| 2 Comments »

SOUNDTRACK: THE DEAD MILKMEN-Soul Rotation (1992).

And lo, the Milkmen grow up.

This disc is not funny (well maybe, a little funny); mostly it is  “thoughtful” (and sometimes absurd).  But what is most striking about it is how mature (mellow) it is.  For this is the first album by The Dead Milkmen on Hollywood Records (a subsidiary of Disney).  This combination raises far more questions than is worth looking at.  But suffice it to say that even though this disc is the Milkmen, its a very different Milkmen.

The most obvious difference is that the majority (10 out of 13) of the songs are sung by the artist formerly known as Joe Jack Talcum, now known as Butterfly Fairweather (perhaps Hollywood knew that “”Punk Rock Girl” was their big hit?).  Past DM records were mostly sung by Rodney Anonymous (who goes by H.P. Lovecraft on this disc).  And his were the heavier, weirder, funnier, absurdist tracks, for the most part.  So, when the first four songs here are sung by Butterfly, you know something different is afoot.  Oh, there’s horns on the disc as well!

The disc feels like a pretty typical alt-rock band from the 90s.  But it’s missing the sass, it’s missing the vulgarity.  Basically, it’s kind of dull.

That’s not to say there aren’t good songs on here, because there are.  “If I Had a Gun” is a great screamy Butterfly song, and “Wonderfully Colored Plastic War Toys” is full of Lovecraft’s snark. As is “The Conspiracy Song” a lengthy rant of absurdity.

The rest of the songs drift between mellow and alt-rock rockers.  And it works as a product of the alt rock 90s.  It’s just not much of a DM album.

[READ: April 8, 2010] Last Evenings on Earth

I have been reading Bolaño’s short stories for a while now.  And so I have read a couple of the stories in this collection already. The stories in this collection were taken from his two Spanish collections of short stories: Llamadas telefônicas (1997) and Putas aseinas (2001).  And I have looked at about a dozen sources but I can’t find which stories came from which original collection (I like  to know these hings).  I can’t even find a table of contents for the original books.  Anyone want to help out?

I enjoyed these stories more than I expected to.  I have read some of his stories in The New Yorker and elsewhere, and I’ve been okay with them, but this collection blew me away.  Whether it’s being immersed in his writings or just having them all in one place, I was thrilled by this book.

There so many delightful little things that he does in his stories that I find charming or funny or something.  Like that his narrators are usually two or three people removed from the details.  Or if they’re not, they act like its been so long they doesn’t need to get all the details right:  “U insults and challenges him, hits the table (or maybe the wall) with his fist” (“Days of 1978”).

I also get a kick out of all the stories with the protagonist named B.  Which seems a not so subtle way of saying he’s the narrator (even though I ‘m sure these things never happened to him quite like it says (despite all the biographical consistencies with his own life).

The opening story “Sensini” has the narrator working as a night watchman at a campground (much like Enric in The Skating Rink…a bit of biography perhaps?).  A number of his stories are simply biographies of interesting characters (something he went to extremes with in Nazi Litearture in the Americas): “Henri Simon LePrince” a failed writer in Post-WWII France.  “Enrique Martin” a delightfully twisted story about jealousy (aren’t they all, though?) and acting impulsively and foolishly (aren’t they all though?).  This one featured  a riddle that I’m not even sure we’re meant to get:

3860+429777-469993?+51179-588904+966-39146+498207853

which the narrator thinks is a word puzzle. (more…)

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Roberto Bolaño–By Night in Chile (2000) [translated 2003]

Posted in bolanobolano.com, Books about writers, Chris Andrews, Communists, Culture Shock, Death, Demons, Foreign Books, History, Infinite Zombies, Monty Python's Flying Circus, Pablo Neruda, Political Humor, Punks, Religion, Roberto Bolaño, Short Books, Smarty Pants, The Dead Milkmen, Translation, Translators on April 13, 2010| Leave a Comment »

SOUNDTRACK: THE DEAD MILKMEN-Metaphysical Graffiti (1990).

You know that it would be untrue, you know that I would be a liar if I were to say to you I didn’t set your house on fire.

You don’t have to be a philosopher to appreciate the joke of this album title (actually that may hurt the joke a little). But the “runes” that accompany the disc are quite amusing.

I haven’t listened to this disc in ages, and it turns out that I remembered about half of these songs really well.  And that’s because half of the songs are really good.  And the other half are, well, okay.

It opens with a children’s chorus which morphs into one of their heaviest rocking (although fairly uninspired) songs, “Beige Sunshine.”  The disc comes into focus with track two: “Do the Brown Nose” a funny song that outlines exactly how to do the titular dance (although at nearly 5 minutes, it’s a bit long).

The single (!) “Methodist Coloring Book”: features Joe Jack Talcum singing (clearly his success with “Punk Rock Girl” had an impact on that decision).  But on this track, he sings with a dark and distorted voice (which pales to Rodney’s dark voice) and is less interesting than his whiny normal singing voice. It’s a good song (and amusing) although as a single it’s less than successful.

I’ve always enjoyed the premise of “I Tripped Over the Ottoman” although I’m not sure it’s a very good song.  While “If You Love Somebody Set them on Fire” is funny and catchy (and astonishingly irritating with the screechier higher register notes in the chorus).

“In Praise of Sha Na Na” makes the valid point that they played at Woodstock and aren’t dead.

Joe Jack’s other songs are the very slow ballad “Dollar Signs in Her Eyes” and the rollicking (and more distorted singing) of “I Hate You, I Love You.”  But the ending tracks “Now Everybody’s Me” and “Little Man in My Head” (which is musically quite a good reggae track) just don’t have a lot of oomph.

However, the final track, “Anderson Walkmen, Buttholes and Howl!” (which parodies a short-lived but much talked about prog rock band) is delightfully twisted.

The problem with the disc overall is the four or five “improv pieces”  They all feature the same bassline, and by the end of the disc you start to cringe when you hear it (especially since the last one is 6 minutes long).  Each one is a mildly funny rant (along the lines of “Stuart” from Beelzebubba, but less focused and less interesting).  Some of them are certainly funny (Earl’s maggots and the “chills me to this day” refrain is pretty good), but they feel like comedy skits that you only want to hear once.

Erlenmeyer Flask!

[READ: April 3, 2010] By Night in Chile

In continuing with my Bolaño obsession, I moved onto yet another of his short books (144 pages).  Interestingly, By Night in Chile is written in a complete different style than the other two titles I’ve recently read (Bolaño is nothing if not diverse).

This is a stream of consciousness reminiscence told by Father Sebastián Urrutia Lacroix.  The entire book is one paragraph (actually that’s not true, the final line of the book is its own paragraph).

As the book opens, Father Urrutia is dying.  But worse than that, he has been disparaged by a wizened youth.  And his entire memory/rant is a response to the accusations of this (unseen by us) wizened youth.

And Father Urrutia uses this opportunity to describe the highlights of his life.  When he was very young he decided to join the priesthood against his family’s objections. There’s a running joke about people calling him “father,” I especially enjoyed the scene where his mother calls him father. (more…)

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Roberto Bolaño–2666 [Week 12] The Part About Archimboldi (1 of 4) (2004)

Posted in Big Books, bolanobolano.com, Books about writers, Communists, Death, Foreign Books, History, Infinite Zombies, Military, Natasha Wimmer, Nazis, Punks, Racism, Religion, Roberto Bolaño, Russia, Sex, Smarty Pants, Suicide, The Dead Milkmen, Translation, Violence, Virginity (Loss of), War on April 12, 2010| Leave a Comment »

SOUNDTRACK: THE DEAD MILKMEN-Beelzebubba (1988).

Why the hell do you think they call it a burrow owl anyway?

Beelzebubba is pretty close to the pinnacle of The Dead Milkmen’s career.  Of the 17 songs, there’s only one or two that fall flat.  But there are so many that rise to greatness.  The wholly un-PC James Brown-mocking song “RC’s Mom” which is pretty much all about beating your wife is in hugely questionable taste, but the funk is quite funky.

The brilliant “Stuart” is the culmination of all of the white trash mocking/spoken word nonsense songs.  And then there’s the outstanding single “Punk Rock Girl.”  It is simultaneously catchy as all hell and yet whiny and kind of off-key.  It’s really magnificent and was suitably lauded.

The strange thing to me is that the actual released “single” was for “Smokin’ Banana Peels” (an EP with that title was released with an absurd number of dance remixes).

“Sri Lanka Sex Hotel” is an angry rant that references The Killer Inside Me and talks about having sex with everything.  It’s pretty bizarre, but is musically fantastic.

True, the back half of the disc suffers somewhat (“Howard Beware” and “Ringo Buys a Rifle” are just okay), but the disc ends with the sublimely vulgar “Life is Shit” a gospel-tinged song that matches Monty Python’s “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” for faux uplift.

Future DM discs would feature some good songs, but the band pretty much peaked with this one.  I’m so bored I’m drinking bleach.

[READ: Week of April 5, 2010]  2666 [pg 637-701]

What a difference a week makes.  The style and writing of Part 5 is markedly different from Part 4.  It is far more laid back and focuses primarily on one individual, Hans Reiter (who we know from Part One is Archimboldi).

The Part opens with information about his parents: his father had one leg (he lost the other in WW1) and his mother was blind in one eye.

Hans’ father, after losing his leg, was in the hospital, expounding on the greatness of smoking.  (He even gives a smoke to a man wrapped head to toe in bandages–and smoke pours out from all the cracks).  When he left the hospital, he walked home–for three weeks.  And when he arrived back home he sought the one-eyed girl in the village and asked for her hand in marriage.

Hans Reiter was born in 1920. He proved to be unreasonably tall: (At 3 he was taller than all the 5 year olds etc).  And he was most interested in the seabed.  There is much information from his childhood of his love of the sea (when his mother bathed him, he would slip under the water until rescued).  At six he stole a book, Animals and Plants of the European Coastal Region, which he more or less memorized and was the only book he read.  And then he began diving, investigating the shoreline.

His father evidently hates everyone and thinks all nations are full of swine (except the Prussians).

Hans also enjoyed walking and he would often walk to the surrounding towns: The Village of Red Men (where they sold peat), The Village of Blue Women , The Town of the Fat (animals and butcher shops); or in the other direction, he went to Egg Village or Pig Village.  Or even further along was the Town of Chattering Girls (who went to parties and dances).

He almost drowned twice.  The first time he was initially mistaken for seaweed as he was floating in the water.  (After he had discovered laminaria digitata).  He also began to draw seaweed in his book.  (The seaweed connection is pretty thorough as he was described as looking like seaweed when he was born).  The tourist who saved him was named Vogel.  He believed in the general goodness of humanity, but he felt that he was a bad person for initially mistaking Hans for seaweed.  Vogel also talked endlessly about the virtues of masturbation (citing Kant as an example). (more…)

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Roberto Bolaño–Nazi Literature in the Americas (1996) [translated 2008]

Posted in 19th Century, bolanobolano.com, Books about writers, Chris Andrews, Death, Foreign Books, Funny (ha ha), Funny (strange), Infinite Zombies, Magicians, Nazis, Poets, Political Humor, Punks, Research, Roberto Bolaño, Short Books, The Dead Milkmen, Translation, Violence, War on April 11, 2010| Leave a Comment »

SOUNDTRACK: THE DEAD MILKMEN-Bucky Fellini (1987).

C’mon, I’m the walrus, damnit.

Bucky Fellini ups the ante from Eat Your Paisley in that the band sounds really accomplished at this point.  The songs are still silly, but they’re not quite as jokey (except for the hit single, but more on that in a second). There’s even lap steel guitar, violin and backing vocals!

Dave Blood’s bass is really something of a force at this point, propelling songs with interesting riffs.  Rodney  “Cosloy” Anonymous sounds great.  And, Joe Jack Talcum gets quite a number of songs to sing: the mellow (and very twisted) “Watching Scotty Die” and the more rocking “Rocketship.”

“Big Time Operator” is a supremely silly song based on a very simple blues riff.  It features the first (utterly wretched) DM guitar solo (look out Stevie Ray Vaughn!) and even showcases a “humming” solo from Rodney (just me!).  While  on the other end of the spectrum, “Surfin’ Cow” is mostly instrumental which is catchy and full of surprising intricacy.

“Instant Club Hit (You’ll Dance to Anything)” was indeed a club hit.  It’s snarky and silly (complete with a drum machine) and it name-checks some of the most prominent college radio bands of the time.  You could easily have built a good collection of British college rock from their list of who you’ll dance to. (instead of giving your money to a decent American artist like himself).

The Dead Milkmen keep getting better and better.  They’re still funny, but they’ve proven themselves to be far more than a novelty act.  Blow it out your hairdoo cause you work at Hardees.

[READ: April 1, 2010] Nazi Literature in America

I’ve read a lot of books that are, shall I say, weird.  But this one is definitely the most unusual when I think:  what would possess a person to write it?

Nazi Literature in the Americas is written as an encyclopedia of Nazis writers who have lived in North, Central and South America.  Except that all of the writers are fake.  So, essentially Bolaño has invented 30 characters, and created rich, fully detailed biographies about all of them.

Some of them are very short (a couple of pages) while a few are over ten pages long, with details of books/poems published, critical reception and even untimely deaths.   The biographies are grouped according to categories (The Mendiluce Clan; Itinerant Heroes or the Fragility of Mirrors, Forerunners and Figures of the Anti-Enlightenment; Poètes Maudis; Wandering Women of Letters; Two Germans at the End of the earth; Speculative and Science Fiction; Magicians, Mercenaries and Miserable Creatures; The Many Masks of Max Mirebalais; North American Poets; The Aryan Brotherhood; The Fabulous Schiaffino Boys; The Infamous Ramírez Hoffman).

And although they are not chronological, Luz Mendiluce (whose bio I read separately) features prominently as a constant “reference point” and creator of one of the prominent Nazi publishing houses.  She had created a publishing empire where Nazi works were spread throughout the continent, and it seems that everyone had a title published by her company Fourth Reich.

What’s so weird about the book is that the people are fake, everything about them is fake (although they are placed firmly within history) and yet their stories are still compelling.  Bolaño has employed a mildly sympathetic tone to these people.  Not sympathizing with the Nazi aspect, but sympathizing with them as humans.

There were one or two who I didn’t really enjoy.  And I admit that I enjoyed the North Americans more; since I know more about North than South America, the facts surrounding these authors resonated more.  But I thoroughly enjoyed most of these biographies.

Of course, just when you think the book is all the same, the final biography changes everything.  In this one, Bolaño himself appears as the writer of the book.  He writes about Ramírez Hoffman in the first person, mentioning himself by name and getting personally involved in the story of this final, skywriting author.  It completely subverts the work before it and leaves you more confused than when you started (although a lot happier for having read it).

The final section of the book is an Epilogue foe Monsters.  It provides a brief biography for all of the secondary characters mentioned in the main body.  It also details the publishing houses and magazines, and finally lists  a bibliography of all books published.  The amount of detail that Bolaño created here is staggering.

But aside from all the Nazism, the book can be quite funny.  Like the conclusion for Luz Mendiluce Thompson, which ends with her driving a car into a gas station.  The final line: “The explosion was considerable.”

It’s tempting to say that this “novel” is not representative of Bolaño’s writing, but I think that’s false.  From what I’ve read so far, Bolaño doesn’t conform to any style in his books: each book is designed differently.  But like this one, they all deal with South America, with violence, with politics and are filled with humor.  So, yes, I guess this is pretty representative.

Oh, and the translation by Chris Andrews is, once again, fantastic.

For ease of searching I include: Bolano

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