|
monsieur pain, by the way, was bizarre and brilliant and incomprehensible as fuck, but in a good way. i mean, you can follow this book, but—where do you follow it to?
i have not read any criticism about bolaņo, thank fuck, i have avoided it purposefully, especially the academic kind. but it reminds me somewhat of paul auster’s new york trilogy, except that... there’s a driving logic in paul auster that is totally missing here. this one just... goes! (but where? where??)
brilliant little book. a fast read, too, although confusing, but fast. by this i mean the main character falls asleep has a dream wakes up you follow him and then wonder—“wait—is he still dreaming?” well, in the story, no, but... he might as well be.
|