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Archive for the ‘Nazis’ Category

SOUNDTRACK: The Beatles-With the Beatles (1963).

Reading the liner notes to these discs gives me a greater appreciation for what the Beatles did.  They put out these first two records in the span of eight months and recorded both of the discs in a matter of like 26 hours each.  That’s pretty amazing.

I’m also starting to think that mono may be the way to go with these early discs.  I mean I’m a stereo guy, but I’m listening to these discs in the car, and it’s weird to have all the instruments on my side and all the vocals over by the passenger seat.

As for this disc itself, again, I was surprised by how many songs I didn’t know on it.  It’s also funny to hear so many cover songs (although it makes sense this early in their career).  Especially since, for the most part, their originals are quite a bit better.  It’s also funny how many of these covers I think of as Beatles songs.  Especially, “Money.”  This disc closer is like “Twist and Shout” in that it really rocks the house down at the close of the disc.  It’s not quite as intense as “Twist” but it’s close.

The only real dud on the disc is “Roll Over Beethoven” which is remarkably stiff for a song about rock and roll.

Whether it’s the production or the amount of time they spent in the studio, this disc sounds more accomplished than the first.  And I can really see  what all the excitement must have been about.  Four good-looking guys singing about love.  What could be better than that?

[READ: May 11, 2010] “Free Fruit for Young Widows”

After reading the Holocaust-based story in McSweeney’s (post coming soon), and the Holocaust section of 2666, the last thing I was ready for was another Holocaust story.  And what a doozy this one is.

Sometimes, when reading a Holocaust based story, I worry that my emotions about the Holocaust will overshadow the quality of the story.  In other words, is it a cheap ploy, an easy setting to get a reaction from the reader.  This story definitely is not. (more…)

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I’ve waited to post this, my wrap up of ideas abut 2666, until I saw what others had to say about it.  Which is kind of a cop out but also kind of understandable.  This book is a giant mess of information, and I’m not entirely sure how to process it all.  So I’ve been looking for help.  And I’ve gotten some, but it’s all kinds of contradictory.  Most people seemed to hate the book.  A few people enjoyed it somewhat, and one or two people really felt moved by it.

I think I fall squarely in that middle camp.  As anyone who has been reading here knows, I became obsessed with Bolaño’s books, and read all of his short fiction (saving Savage Detectives for a read in a few weeks).  And yet I’m not exactly sure WHY I felt compelled to read these stories.  (I’m very glad I did…there will be more on Bolaño himself in a day or two).

I’ve decided to look back over what I wrote to get a sense of what I thought of the book (I knew these posts would come in handy). (more…)

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SOUNDTRACK: FUGAZI-Steady Diet of Nothing (1991).

Jangly noisy guitars open the track (and then a lengthy silence after a minute or so).  And this loud/soft dynamic is pretty dramatic on this disc.

There’s a slot of really cool sounds (within the framework of loud noisy alterna-punk).  “Reclamation” opens with some harsh guitar harmonics over a kind of spoken verse, but it bursts into a great chorus.  “Nice New Outfit” is quite catchy (even if lyrically it’s very dark).  But by the middle of the disc, it feels like some of the songs aren’t quite as interesting.

Of course, the instrumental “Steady Diet” is noisy and wonderful.  And “Runaway Return” has a catchy noisiness to it.  But the band comes back to a high point with “Polish” and the thoughtful “Justice Letter” (written about favored  Supreme Court Justice William Brennan who retired in 1990).

This record is a cool departure from the first disc.  To me it’s not quite as immeiate as Repeater, and yet it still has some really powerful songs.  I find that no matter how many times I listen to it there’s a few tracks that never grab me, but overall, this is another great release from Fugazi.

[READ: Week of April 26, 2010]  2666 [pg 831-893]

Wow.

The book is over and I am blown away.  I don’t know if it was the set up, or my utterly lowered expectations or the complete lack of connections previous to this, but I had assumed that this story would end (well, actually exactly as it did, with him going to Mexico) but the 30 pages before the end blew me away.  I can’t get over how nicely he tied so much together and in such an unexpected way.  I could not tear myself away from the end.  Wow.

I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole book.  I’ll do a final thoughts post after I digest, but the ending of the book was immensely satisfying. (more…)

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SOUNDTRACK: THE DEAD MILKMEN-Chaos Rules: Live at the Trocadero (1994).

It wouldn’t be a complete look at the Dead Milkmen without mentioning their one live release.

Chaos Rules is a surprisingly good live set (taken from two separate concerts).  They had to leave all of the songs from their Hollywood Records discs off this collection, so this comes across more as a classic concert rather than a comprehensive one.

The band sounds great and the songs sound pretty close to the originals.  Not that the originals were hard but it wasn’t always obvious whether the Milkmen were doing what they were doing on purpose.  This set suggests that they were.

As any good live band, they play around with their songs, being surprisingly angry about local politics and changing the (by then twenty year old) “Bitchin Camaro” intro to reflect that.

The only reason it would have been nice if they had been allowed to include some of the Hollywood Records songs (they do sneak one in under a different name) would be to see if they played them any differently.  Since the early tracks are pretty chaotic, I wonder what would happen to the latter, more mellow songs.  Did they stand up under the weight of the nonsense or did they become more ramshackle as well?

I guess I’ll never know.  This is not essential by any means, but it is an interesting artifact for the curious and is totally enjoyable for DM fans.

[READ: April 23, 2010] Distant Star

Because Bolaño never does anything typical, this novella is a spin-off of sorts to Nazi Literature in America.  The introduction states that “in the final chapter of my novel Nazi Literature in America I recounted, in less than twenty pages and perhaps too schematically, the story of Lieutenant Ramirez Hoffman…which I heard from Arturo B.  He was not satisfied with my version…So we took that final chapter and shut ourselves up for a month a half in my house in Blanes, … where we composed the present novel.  My role was limited to preparing refreshments, consulting a few books and discussing the rest of numerous paragraphs with Artuto…”

Okay, there is so much wonderful deception in just this introduction to this book it totally cracks me up.  (Arturo B has long been a stand in for Bolaño himself). In the original, the narrator is named Bolaño (he is the narrator in jail who eventually helps the detective locate the poet).

For yes, the story is the life of a poet who is also a murderer.  And, the story is pretty much the same as the 20 or so pages of Nazi Literature.  It is now an extended meditation on this particular poet.  All of the events that were present in the short version are here, they are all just fleshed out with Bolaño’s wonderful details and full biographies of other characters.

The big, weird thing though is that almost all of the names have been changed (to protect the guilty?).  So even though the poet of this book has the same exact  life story as Lieutenant Ramirez Hoffman, he never has that name in Distant Star (and he goes through several pseudonyms).  There are twins in the short version who now get new names.  Even the poetry teachers have different names.  However, the detective who hunts him down at the end has the same name.  Weird.

The book works as a critical assessment of the Allende administration (which is why the real Bolaño was imprisoned).  But on to the story. (more…)

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SOUNDTRACK: PHISH-Joy (2009).

This is basically Phish’s reunion disc (after a 5 year hiatus).  It opens with one of their poppiest songs, “Backwards Down the Number Line” a song that picks up where their least disc left off: with a feeling of driving down a country lane with nowhere to go, windows opens, just happy to be alive.  The second track, “Stealing Time from the Faulty Plan” is a delightful rocker with a supremely catchy chorus “got a blank space where my mind should be….”

The third track, “Joy” starts as a simple piano ballad, but quickly morphs into one of the prettiest songs I’ve heard in ages, an outrageously happy upbeat tender song: “We want you to be happy, cause this is your song, too.”

“Sugar Shack” is a delightfully funky song, recognizable at once as one of Mike’s songs.  It’s a simple, pleasant enough track, but somehow Mike’s voice sounds weaker than usual.

“Ocelot” is a silly track (and one of my favorites) while “Kill Devil Falls” is a bluesy number that will easily be a lengthy jam live.  It’s my least favorite track on the disc, but it is followed by a more upbeat future-jam called “Light” which features delightful multi part harmonies.

The highlights of the disc are the final two songs: the 13 minute “Time Turns Elastic” and the five-minute “Twenty Years Later.”  “Elastic” is a wonderful non-jam, a thoughtfully constructed epic with many parts (although not an elaborate prog rock track or anything).  It’s catchy and moving with sweeping grandeur and easy to sing parts.  And it melds wonderfully into the delicate multipart gorgeous final track.

This is a really strong, mature disc from Phish. There’s not a lot of silliness or nonsense, just some great uplifting gentle rock songs.  It’s quite wonderful.

[READ: Week of April 19, 2010]  2666 [pg 766-830]

This penultimate section of 2666 (the end is nigh!) settles down into an almost pasotral recollection of Archimboldi (the man formerly known as Reiter) as a writer (yes the pronunciation of his name is not lost on me, although I assume it doesn’t have the same connotation in German).  And while it is not all happiness, there is more joy in these 60 some pages than in most of the rest of the book combined.

But before we get there, we have one final moment with a war criminal.

(more…)

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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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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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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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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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SOUNDTRACK: CUPPA JOE-Nurture (1995).

Fuzzy guitars, distortion, rocking noise and…that delicate voice.  cuppa joe breaks out their harder side with this album. What’s nice about this full length is the way the band really pushes the boundaries of its indie pop sound.  They explore different styles but never go so far as to lose their identity.  It’s most notable in the bass, which sounds so different on different songs, quick and jazzy on “Swinging on your Gate” full of high notes and full on “Broken Arms.”

And, of course, “Bottlerocket” is back for another go.  This sounds like a re-recorded version than the EP, louder and fuller.  And frankly, after writing a song like this how do you compare?

But just showing some of the diversity on the disc, “Sitting Limit” has some major distortion on the guitars.  It’s funny how almost deadpan the vocals are in comparison.  I’ve finally concluded that the vocals sound kind of like the alternate leads singer from The Dead Milkmen (Joe Jack Talcum, the one who sang “Punk Rock Girl”).  In fact, a few of their slower songs sound like Talcum’s ballads.

“Decline” offers some vocal harmonies which bring an interesting depth to the song (which in this case is much lighter in the jangly guitars) and almost sounds like a demo.

“Poster” stands out for its deep almost punk bassline and aggressive (relatively) vocals (and fr the fact that it’s under 2 minutes long).  It’s funny how much more intense the vocals can sound on these tracks.  And just when you think you have them figured out as a pop band with punk leanings, they throw in a song like “long Walk” with some wild music lines and an almost world music influence.

Even as the disc comes to a close, “Beauty of of an Unshared Thing” is like a long lost 90’s college radio gem.  It’s got the wash of guitars, the great bassline and a propulsive beat.

Listening carefully to the lyrics, the word that comes to mind most is earnest.  A song like “Self Confidence” is a mellow song about empowerment.  Or “Medium Well” with the line  “A kiss means so much more when it doesn’t taste like alcohol.”

The bonus track on the disc is a cover of an old Irish song by the band Bagatelle.  The song “Second Violin” is astonishingly catchy.  Given my proclivities, I prefer the harder rocking stuff on the disc, and there is certainly plenty of that.

It’s going to be re-released from Dromedary, with extra bonus tracks!

[READ: February 17, 2010] “Luz Mendiluce Thompson”

This story is taken from Nazi Literature in the America.  It’s translated by Chris Andrews.

The book is evidently a collection of fictional biographies of Nazi writers who live in the Americas.  The contents is simply a list of names (and this is the only one I have read, so I can’t confirm that the rest of the collection is like this).

But, lo, that summary is true of this piece.  Luz Mendiluce, born in Berlin 1928, died in Buenos Aires in 1976.  Her proudest memory and most sacred possession is of her being dandled on Hitler’s lap.  This is the photo she would rescue if her house was on fire.

And this story, which is quite easily my favorite short fiction by Bolaño thus far is a fast paced, exciting and strangely moving portrait of this fascist poet. (more…)

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