Book One of 2666 — “The Part About the Critics” — introduces four literary critics obsessed with a reclusive author named Benno Von Archimboldi. Archimboldi is as autobiographically unknown as Pynchon, and as built up with legendary accomplishments as Kurtz. Each of the four critics are introduced by way of their introduction to Archimboldi, as in the first line of the novel:
The first time that Jean-Claude Pelletier read Benno von Archimboldi was Christmas 1980, in Paris, when he was nineteen years old and studying German literature.
Three of the critics are men, with two of them in particular fighting for the affections of the lone, younger female critic. Their desire to track down the mysterious Archimboldi, who annually is rumored to win the Nobel prize for literature (he has a chance, since he’s European), takes them on a quest to Mexico. It’s half detective story, half love farce. The farce includes descriptions of sexual stamina, including a detailed comparison between how two of the critics can last for six hours in bed (different strategies; same result). Although this first book has the most sex in it of all five 2666 sections, it doesn’t have nearly as much (or as deviant) as The Savage Detectives.
All four critics — Jean-Claude Pelletier, Manual Espinoza, Piero Morini, and Liz Norton — are incredibly nomadic, shifting from location to location without ever settling in, spending half of the book in hotels and the apartments of friends, which mirrors Bolano’s own itinerant lifestyle, living in Chile, Spain, Mexico and elsewhere. The characters relationships match their physical movement. Their relationships — nonexistent with others, and shaky with each other — match most of the relationships in Bolano’s fiction, which tend to be transient.
This book lures in the reader using the same strategies as The Savage Detectives — to make poets or critics entertaining, they have to be on some kind of quest or mission. Oh, and some hyperbolic sex doesn’t hurt either.
Although the end of Book One concludes with a surprise and a laugh, it’s disconcerting to move into book two, “The Part About Amalfitano,” which takes a peripheral character and explores his psyche. To be frank, Amalfitano is not nearly as interesting as the previous critics. A central motif in this section involves Amalfitano hanging a book on his laundry line — a concept reminiscent of Borges, except an exposed library rather than an infinite one. Unfortunately, it has the least narrative force of all five of the books.
UDPATE: All BookFox posts on 2666.
2 comments
The fact that a French-man won the 2008 Nobel Prize for Literature will certainly annoy the anglophiles. After all, everyone now accepts that English is the international language.
I apologise for the satire, but speak as a native English speaker. Then, if English is unacceptable, on grounds of linguistic imperialism, what about Esperanto?
Yes Esperanto was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature, in the name of Icelandic poet Baldur Ragnarrson.
This is true. Esperanto does have its own original literature. Please check https://www.esperanto.net to confirm.
I finished the novel yesterday and am now reading everything I can on it. Of every review/article I’ve read thus far I have been incredibly surprised by the reactions to Amalfitano. His section/character was probably my favorite, and I found him to be so much more likable/interesting than any of the critics. The only other glowing mention of him I’ve encountered so far is by Natasha Wimmer. What didn’t you find interesting about him?