madeline may write

I got a book for Christmas and didn’t read the back cover.

I didn’t read any reviews. I didn’t read about the author. I didn’t even glance ahead to look at chapter names. All I knew going into it was the author’s name (Roberto Bolaño), the page count (a staggering 893), and the intriguingly cryptic title, 2666. In retrospect, I don’t think it would have mattered. The book was, pardon my language, a complete mind-fuck. And yes, I would recommend it – with some caution – to the particularly engaged and intense reader.

My copy of 2666 came in three volumes, for convenience, and the book itself is divided into five sections: The Part About The Critics, The Part About Amalfitano, The Part About Fate, The Part About The Crimes, and The Part About Archimboldi. They’re all connected – but only loosely, and not each to every other. There are themes, names, styles, and ideas running the length and breadth of the story, things that it takes a while to catch on to, things that might bear stronger fruit the second time around. Violence. Feminism. Literature. Escape. The story flows but wanders. The thread disappears and then comes full circle. Each section could be its own story, complete with intricate sub-stories and fully realized histories. When taken together, Bolaño’s fragmentary worlds become a rich – albeit incomplete – masterpiece. A comprehensive work. Even the cover art – different on all three volumes – is relevant. Jesus.

One thing worth noting: I say ‘incomplete’ because Bolaño died before finishing what he’d set out to do. But not in the way that Jane Austen died before finishing Sanderton, or Douglas Adams died before finishing The Salmon of Doubt. Bolaño didn’t leave us with beginning, middle, and no end – he knew he was dying too quickly and, fueled by that urgency, left us with a sturdy frame. He didn’t quite reach the focal point he was aiming for – that would be 2666 itself, the “hidden center” of the work, a date of unknown significance – but 2666 is a beautiful, enigmatic whole all the same. I never knew quite where it was going, and I’m still not sure I know where it went, but the novel had integrity. He didn’t hold my hand the first two-thirds only to drop me flat on page 800. He challenged me the entire time, in a way that made an irresolute ending acceptable. In a way that made an irresolute ending right.

Ultimately, I can’t tell you what the novel was about. Bolaño took me all over the world and through decades of Western history. He showed me different worlds – real and imaginary – and opposing viewpoints. He made me smile but turned my stomach. 2666 was, shall we say, an intense read. I can’t just tell you about it. I can only share my experience of the story, and warn you, and have you pick up the novel for yourself.

Don’t bother with the back cover. Just read the story, digest the story, and then decide on your own whether any of the rest matters. As for me, I’m still trying to find a book with the pith to match it.