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Tres
Bolaño's own preferred literary persona was as a poet. When asked, "What makes you believe you're a better poet than a novelist?" Bolaño replied, "The poetry makes me blush less."
Tres, his most inventive and bracing poetry collection, is a showcase of the author's ability and willingness to freely cross genres, with poems written in prose, stories in verse, and flashes of writing that can hardly be categorized.
As the title implies, the collection is composed of three sections. "Prose from Autumn in Gerona," a cinematic series of prose poems, slowly reveals a subtle and emotional tale of unrequited love by presenting each scene, shattering it, and piecing it all back together, over and over again. The second part, "The Neochileans," is a sort of On the Road in verse that narrates the travels of a young Chilean band on tour in the far reaches of their country. Finally, a series of short poems takes us on "A Stroll Through Literature" and reminds us of Bolaño's masterful ability to walk the line between the comically serious and the seriously comical.
Tres, his most inventive and bracing poetry collection, is a showcase of the author's ability and willingness to freely cross genres, with poems written in prose, stories in verse, and flashes of writing that can hardly be categorized.
As the title implies, the collection is composed of three sections. "Prose from Autumn in Gerona," a cinematic series of prose poems, slowly reveals a subtle and emotional tale of unrequited love by presenting each scene, shattering it, and piecing it all back together, over and over again. The second part, "The Neochileans," is a sort of On the Road in verse that narrates the travels of a young Chilean band on tour in the far reaches of their country. Finally, a series of short poems takes us on "A Stroll Through Literature" and reminds us of Bolaño's masterful ability to walk the line between the comically serious and the seriously comical.
176 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2000
20 people are currently reading
684 people want to read
About the author
Roberto Bolaño
151 books6,647 followersFor most of his early adulthood, Bolaño was a vagabond, living at one time or another in Chile, Mexico, El Salvador, France and Spain. Bolaño moved to Europe in 1977, and finally made his way to Spain, where he married and settled on the Mediterranean coast near Barcelona, working as a dishwasher, a campground custodian, bellhop and garbage collector — working during the day and writing at night.
He continued with his poetry, before shifting to fiction in his early forties. In an interview Bolaño stated that he made this decision because he felt responsible for the future financial well-being of his family, which he knew he could never secure from the earnings of a poet. This was confirmed by Jorge Herralde, who explained that Bolaño "abandoned his parsimonious beatnik existence" because the birth of his son in 1990 made him "decide that he was responsible for his family's future and that it would be easier to earn a living by writing fiction." However, he continued to think of himself primarily as a poet, and a collection of his verse, spanning 20 years, was published in 2000 under the title The Romantic Dogs.
Regarding his native country Chile, which he visited just once after going into voluntary exile, Bolaño had conflicted feelings. He was notorious in Chile for his fierce attacks on Isabel Allende and other members of the literary establishment.
In 2003, after a long period of declining health, Bolaño passed away. Bolaño was survived by his Spanish wife and their two children, whom he once called "my only motherland."
Although deep down he always felt like a poet, his reputation ultimately rests on his novels, novellas and short story collections. Although Bolaño espoused the lifestyle of a bohemian poet and literary enfant terrible for all his adult life, he only began to produce substantial works of fiction in the 1990s. He almost immediately became a highly regarded figure in Spanish and Latin American letters.
In rapid succession, he published a series of critically acclaimed works, the most important of which are the novel Los detectives salvajes (The Savage Detectives), the novella Nocturno de Chile (By Night In Chile), and, posthumously, the novel 2666. His two collections of short stories Llamadas telefónicas and Putas asesinas were awarded literary prizes.
In 2009 a number of unpublished novels were discovered among the author's papers.
He continued with his poetry, before shifting to fiction in his early forties. In an interview Bolaño stated that he made this decision because he felt responsible for the future financial well-being of his family, which he knew he could never secure from the earnings of a poet. This was confirmed by Jorge Herralde, who explained that Bolaño "abandoned his parsimonious beatnik existence" because the birth of his son in 1990 made him "decide that he was responsible for his family's future and that it would be easier to earn a living by writing fiction." However, he continued to think of himself primarily as a poet, and a collection of his verse, spanning 20 years, was published in 2000 under the title The Romantic Dogs.
Regarding his native country Chile, which he visited just once after going into voluntary exile, Bolaño had conflicted feelings. He was notorious in Chile for his fierce attacks on Isabel Allende and other members of the literary establishment.
In 2003, after a long period of declining health, Bolaño passed away. Bolaño was survived by his Spanish wife and their two children, whom he once called "my only motherland."
Although deep down he always felt like a poet, his reputation ultimately rests on his novels, novellas and short story collections. Although Bolaño espoused the lifestyle of a bohemian poet and literary enfant terrible for all his adult life, he only began to produce substantial works of fiction in the 1990s. He almost immediately became a highly regarded figure in Spanish and Latin American letters.
In rapid succession, he published a series of critically acclaimed works, the most important of which are the novel Los detectives salvajes (The Savage Detectives), the novella Nocturno de Chile (By Night In Chile), and, posthumously, the novel 2666. His two collections of short stories Llamadas telefónicas and Putas asesinas were awarded literary prizes.
In 2009 a number of unpublished novels were discovered among the author's papers.
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January 10, 2019
3x3
Bolaño amava dire che era più un poeta che un narratore ma solitamente i suoi lettori non concordano. Qui tre esempi per pensarci su.
Tre stelle per Tre: è una scelta obbligata? Più il risultato di una media.
Avrei dato anche di meno al primo pezzo, Prosa del otoño en Gerona (1981), e certamente di più all'ultimo: Un paseo por la literatura (1994). A quello che sta in mezzo, Los Neochilenos (1993), sta bene il valore medio.
Poesie. Sì ma corrispondenti a un'idea di poesia come forma molto aperta e accogliente; basata non sul verso, il ritmo, la densità di figure retoriche o simili ma sulla brevità dei frammenti e la ripetizione nella serie di alcune immagini, situazioni e parole ossessive (la centrale nucleare di Civitavecchia…).
«Soy voluble, una veces deseo la grandeza, otras sólo su ombra»
Dicevo che mi piacciono di meno i testi più vecchi: quelle prose liriche che tracciano brevi scene con forza onirica, sensualità e abbandono in fondo alla Spagna, con un permesso di soggiorno in scadenza e nessun lavoro. All’incrocio tra pagina di diario, rielaborazioni di sogno e appunti di lavoro per la realizzazione di un film, con personaggi e scene. Già qui, comunque, ha una sua efficacia il ritorno di elementi ricorrenti: «la desconocida», il «caleidoscopio», il «momento Atlántida».
La seconda parte si avvicina di più a un racconto (di Bolaño, naturalmente; e si pensa anche ai Detective selvaggi): narra infatti il viaggio verso nord di una band di musicisti (appunto Pancho Relámpago y los Neochilenos) che prima di partire visita il monumento del poeta Rubén Darío [[mai dimenticare che i quattro grandi poeti del Cile sono tre: Alonso de Ercilla e Rubén Darío!]]. Ubriachi e drogati, attraversano luoghi desolati, bordelli, suonano in localacci, il cantante si ammala e si trascina dietro una puttana minorenne...
Già ci stiamo avvicinando al meglio: c'è un viaggio anche nell'ultima parte, ma qui è decisamente un viaggio dentro la letteratura, sotto la forma di una serie di sogni dove Bolaño, spesso vedendosi come un detective latinoamericano molto vecchio e malato, continuamente incontra scrittori e poeti vari.
Oh mio amore per la lista! Eccola qui: Georges Perec, Alonso de Ercilla, Manuel Puig, Macedonio Fernández, Efraín Huerta, Enrique Lihn, Stendhal, Thomas De Quincey, Aloysius Bertrand, Gui Rosey, Li Po, Roberto Bolaño, Archibald McLeish, i fratelli Goncourt, Gabriela Mistral, Philip K. Dick, Archiloco, Nicanor Parra, Vallejo, Martín Adán, Virgilio, Paulin Joachim, Franz Kafka, Mario de Sá-Carneiro, Anacreonte, Mark Twain, Alice Scheldon, Anaïs Nin, Carson McCullers, Alphonse Daudet, Robert Desnos, Roque Dalton, Walt Whitman, Boezio, de Sade, Pascal, Baudelaire, Marcel Schwob, James Matthew Barrie.
E in conclusione di nuovo Perec, che «aveva tre anni e piangeva sconsolatamente»: l'unico che ritorna, a chiudere il cerchio.
Ora vado: tocca visitare la centrale nucleare di Civitavecchia.
Bolaño amava dire che era più un poeta che un narratore ma solitamente i suoi lettori non concordano. Qui tre esempi per pensarci su.
Tre stelle per Tre: è una scelta obbligata? Più il risultato di una media.
Avrei dato anche di meno al primo pezzo, Prosa del otoño en Gerona (1981), e certamente di più all'ultimo: Un paseo por la literatura (1994). A quello che sta in mezzo, Los Neochilenos (1993), sta bene il valore medio.
Poesie. Sì ma corrispondenti a un'idea di poesia come forma molto aperta e accogliente; basata non sul verso, il ritmo, la densità di figure retoriche o simili ma sulla brevità dei frammenti e la ripetizione nella serie di alcune immagini, situazioni e parole ossessive (la centrale nucleare di Civitavecchia…).
«Soy voluble, una veces deseo la grandeza, otras sólo su ombra»
Dicevo che mi piacciono di meno i testi più vecchi: quelle prose liriche che tracciano brevi scene con forza onirica, sensualità e abbandono in fondo alla Spagna, con un permesso di soggiorno in scadenza e nessun lavoro. All’incrocio tra pagina di diario, rielaborazioni di sogno e appunti di lavoro per la realizzazione di un film, con personaggi e scene. Già qui, comunque, ha una sua efficacia il ritorno di elementi ricorrenti: «la desconocida», il «caleidoscopio», il «momento Atlántida».
La seconda parte si avvicina di più a un racconto (di Bolaño, naturalmente; e si pensa anche ai Detective selvaggi): narra infatti il viaggio verso nord di una band di musicisti (appunto Pancho Relámpago y los Neochilenos) che prima di partire visita il monumento del poeta Rubén Darío [[mai dimenticare che i quattro grandi poeti del Cile sono tre: Alonso de Ercilla e Rubén Darío!]]. Ubriachi e drogati, attraversano luoghi desolati, bordelli, suonano in localacci, il cantante si ammala e si trascina dietro una puttana minorenne...
Già ci stiamo avvicinando al meglio: c'è un viaggio anche nell'ultima parte, ma qui è decisamente un viaggio dentro la letteratura, sotto la forma di una serie di sogni dove Bolaño, spesso vedendosi come un detective latinoamericano molto vecchio e malato, continuamente incontra scrittori e poeti vari.
Oh mio amore per la lista! Eccola qui: Georges Perec, Alonso de Ercilla, Manuel Puig, Macedonio Fernández, Efraín Huerta, Enrique Lihn, Stendhal, Thomas De Quincey, Aloysius Bertrand, Gui Rosey, Li Po, Roberto Bolaño, Archibald McLeish, i fratelli Goncourt, Gabriela Mistral, Philip K. Dick, Archiloco, Nicanor Parra, Vallejo, Martín Adán, Virgilio, Paulin Joachim, Franz Kafka, Mario de Sá-Carneiro, Anacreonte, Mark Twain, Alice Scheldon, Anaïs Nin, Carson McCullers, Alphonse Daudet, Robert Desnos, Roque Dalton, Walt Whitman, Boezio, de Sade, Pascal, Baudelaire, Marcel Schwob, James Matthew Barrie.
E in conclusione di nuovo Perec, che «aveva tre anni e piangeva sconsolatamente»: l'unico che ritorna, a chiudere il cerchio.
Ora vado: tocca visitare la centrale nucleare di Civitavecchia.
June 6, 2014
Dear ________, once I wrote you a poem about how your eyelids struggled against sleep as you lay in my arms. Today I've become an emerging writer and have had to use that image in a novella in which someone sleeps in someone else's arms. They, too, go their separate ways. It is difficult to think of new images when you are someone who writes the same thing over and over. As of now I'm two coffees down, it is 6 A.M. in the morning, I'm still dressed in yesterday's office clothes, and the windows in my bedroom are closed. There is also this pigeon somewhere closby, a pigeon struggling to speak. I cannot visit you because the flights are expensive, because I cannot get an off, because the visa is a drag, et cetera. Sometimes a heart is a chimney that gives off smoke long after the furnace has been put off. I will not crumble if I see you again but it is likely that I will not see you again. There are birds inside us that migrate and return as per their whimsical seasons.
*
Along with Antwerp, this is another cracked key to enter Bolano's work. Or perhaps, this is a summary of all he was about.
The second poem, Neochilenos, is excellent.
*
Along with Antwerp, this is another cracked key to enter Bolano's work. Or perhaps, this is a summary of all he was about.
The second poem, Neochilenos, is excellent.
September 27, 2016
Muy bueno. La poesía de Bolaño es melancólica, literaria, extraterritorial. Su densidad corre pareja con su infinita soledad. Sus temas fuertes no son nunca un arribo a destino, un desarrollo o un corolario. Al contrario, sus obsesiones son axiomáticas, son puntos de partida, se toman como evidencia rotunda. Bolaño poeta se piensa a sí mismo como desterrado, exiliado, inmaduro, fuera de tiempo y lugar. Sus amigos están muertos. Sus interlocutores son otros poetas que también están muertos. Están muertos los detectives salvajes, esos buscadores fracasados de la identidad latinoamericana. Está enfermo el cuerpo, lo cual es un anticipo de la muerte. Bolaño no tiene dinero para vivir. No tiene lugar para vivir. Esa imagen difusa que llama momento Atlántida siempre se escapa, quizás esté muerto. Las mujeres de su sosiego siempre lo dejan. El reconocimiento al poeta nunca es oficial. A las visas de México y España que le dan permiso de residir pero no de trabajar -en España- se le suma la universidad desconocida. Sólo la visita onírica de otros escritores lo acerca a una conversación fugaz, le regala algo de comida y vino. Opino que este libro comparte una visión densa de muy buena calidad poética. A la vez, creo que la narrativa de Bolaño se entiende mejor desde su poesía de la identidad, del desarraigo, de la revolución fracasada. Muy buena lectura.
July 5, 2017
"Necunoscuta e întinsă în pat. După mai multe scene fără iubire (corpuri întinse, obiecte sado-masochiste şi feţe de şomeri) vine momentul în care zici toamna şi o descoperi pe necunoscută. În încăpere, în afară de reflexia care înghite totul, vezi pietre, bucăţi de ardezie galbenă, nisip, perne cu fire de păr pe ele, pijamale abandonate. Apoi totul dispare."
E superbă cartea, omul a fost genial. Sunt multe bijuterii strecurate în text, pe care vă recomand să le savuraţi pe îndelete.
Încă un mic fragment şi gata:
"Două noaptea şi ecranul alb. Personajul meu stă într-un fotoliu, într-o mână o ţigară, în cealaltă o ceşcuţă cu coniac. Reface cu minuţiozitate anumite scene. Într-una, necunoscuta doarme cât se poate de liniştită. Apoi îi mângâie umerii. Apoi îi spune să nu o însoţească la gară. Ăla poate fi un semn, vârful aisbergului. Necunoscuta susţine că nu se gândea să doarmă cu el. Prietenia – zâmbetul ei atinge acum zonele ridate – nu presupune niciun fel de infern."
E superbă cartea, omul a fost genial. Sunt multe bijuterii strecurate în text, pe care vă recomand să le savuraţi pe îndelete.
Încă un mic fragment şi gata:
"Două noaptea şi ecranul alb. Personajul meu stă într-un fotoliu, într-o mână o ţigară, în cealaltă o ceşcuţă cu coniac. Reface cu minuţiozitate anumite scene. Într-una, necunoscuta doarme cât se poate de liniştită. Apoi îi mângâie umerii. Apoi îi spune să nu o însoţească la gară. Ăla poate fi un semn, vârful aisbergului. Necunoscuta susţine că nu se gândea să doarmă cu el. Prietenia – zâmbetul ei atinge acum zonele ridate – nu presupune niciun fel de infern."
October 1, 2020
“Necunoscuta e întinsă în pat. După mai multe scene fără iubire (corpuri întinse, obiecte sado-masochiste şi feţe de şomeri) vine momentul în care zici toamna şi o descoperi pe necunoscută.”
“iar ea te mângâie fără să zică nimic, deşi cuvântul caleidoscop apare ca saliva pe buzele ei şi atunci cadrele redevin transparente până ajung ceva ce poţi numi oftatul personajului palid sau geometrie în jurul ochiului tău despuiat”
“Soluţiile simple ne ghidează acţiunile. Educaţia sentimentală are o singură deviză: fără suferinţă”
“Buze articulând un alt cuvânt?
Geometria toamnei parcursă de necunoscută numai pentru ca nervii tăi să reacţioneze.
Acum, necunoscuta dispare din nou. Iei din nou chipul singurătăţii.”
“Zice că e bine. Tu zici că eşti bine şi te gândeşti că într-adevăr ea e bine şi că într-adevăr tu eşti bine. Privirea ei e superbă, ca şi cum ar vedea pentru prima dată ceea ce şi-a dorit toată viaţa. Apoi vine răsuflarea putredă, ochii goi deşi ea zice (în timp ce tu rămâi tăcut, ca într-un film mut) că infernul nu poate fi lumea în care trăieşte. Tăiaţi mizeria asta de text! strigă. Caleidoscopul ia chipul singurătăţii. Poc, face inima ta.”
“Personajului îi rămâne aventura şi să zică „a început sa ningă, şefu’”.
“O fată care face duş, pielea ei înroşită de apa caldă; pe cap, ca un turban, un prosop vechi, decolorat. Brusc, în timp ce-şi rujează buzele în faţa oglinzii, mă priveşte (sunt în spatele ei) şi zice că nu e nevoie să o însoţesc la gară.”
“iar ea te mângâie fără să zică nimic, deşi cuvântul caleidoscop apare ca saliva pe buzele ei şi atunci cadrele redevin transparente până ajung ceva ce poţi numi oftatul personajului palid sau geometrie în jurul ochiului tău despuiat”
“Soluţiile simple ne ghidează acţiunile. Educaţia sentimentală are o singură deviză: fără suferinţă”
“Buze articulând un alt cuvânt?
Geometria toamnei parcursă de necunoscută numai pentru ca nervii tăi să reacţioneze.
Acum, necunoscuta dispare din nou. Iei din nou chipul singurătăţii.”
“Zice că e bine. Tu zici că eşti bine şi te gândeşti că într-adevăr ea e bine şi că într-adevăr tu eşti bine. Privirea ei e superbă, ca şi cum ar vedea pentru prima dată ceea ce şi-a dorit toată viaţa. Apoi vine răsuflarea putredă, ochii goi deşi ea zice (în timp ce tu rămâi tăcut, ca într-un film mut) că infernul nu poate fi lumea în care trăieşte. Tăiaţi mizeria asta de text! strigă. Caleidoscopul ia chipul singurătăţii. Poc, face inima ta.”
“Personajului îi rămâne aventura şi să zică „a început sa ningă, şefu’”.
“O fată care face duş, pielea ei înroşită de apa caldă; pe cap, ca un turban, un prosop vechi, decolorat. Brusc, în timp ce-şi rujează buzele în faţa oglinzii, mă priveşte (sunt în spatele ei) şi zice că nu e nevoie să o însoţesc la gară.”
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 25, 2025
Very much enjoyed this again. Particularly The Neochilians (always great) and A Stroll Through Literature (I understand this third part more each time I read it as I know who more of the people he's talking about are).
September 28, 2011
roberto bolaño liked to fancy himself a poet above all, yet his novels and short stories are what have garnered him the most posthumous renown. tres, published originally in his native spanish in 2000, is the second collection of bolaño's poetry to appear in english (translated by laura healy, whom also rendered the romantic dogs). tres, per its title, is divided into three distinct parts, each of which is rather unlike the other.
the first part, "prose from autumn in gerona," was written in 1981 and chronicles through poetic prose the narrator's unrequited love. "the neochileans," the book's middle entry, is a lengthy verse poem recalling an itinerant band's travels north through chile and into peru. composed in 1993, "the neochileans" could well be the musical companions of the more literary and equally adventurous infrarealists that bolaño used as the basis for the savage detectives. the final section, "a stroll through literature," finds bolaño offering his trademark insights, with both humor and cleverness, about a disparate array of authors new and old. these dream pieces, from 1994, demonstrate not only bolaño's extensive devotion to his literary predecessors, but also the ways in which these fellow craftsmen have had a lasting influence on his daily life and imagination.
tres is a strong collection of work; one that complements his other fiction quite well. thematically similar to many of the stories for which he's so beloved, the poems that comprise tres serve as accomplices in the realm to which all of bolaño's characters inhabited. as with between parentheses, his recently translated collection of non-fiction, tres illustrates that bolaño was no mere novelist content to explore other forms of writing via the occasional vanity project, but instead a master of nearly any format to which he turned his prodigious talent.
"prose from autumn in gerona," excerpt:
"a stroll through literature," excerpts:
the first part, "prose from autumn in gerona," was written in 1981 and chronicles through poetic prose the narrator's unrequited love. "the neochileans," the book's middle entry, is a lengthy verse poem recalling an itinerant band's travels north through chile and into peru. composed in 1993, "the neochileans" could well be the musical companions of the more literary and equally adventurous infrarealists that bolaño used as the basis for the savage detectives. the final section, "a stroll through literature," finds bolaño offering his trademark insights, with both humor and cleverness, about a disparate array of authors new and old. these dream pieces, from 1994, demonstrate not only bolaño's extensive devotion to his literary predecessors, but also the ways in which these fellow craftsmen have had a lasting influence on his daily life and imagination.
tres is a strong collection of work; one that complements his other fiction quite well. thematically similar to many of the stories for which he's so beloved, the poems that comprise tres serve as accomplices in the realm to which all of bolaño's characters inhabited. as with between parentheses, his recently translated collection of non-fiction, tres illustrates that bolaño was no mere novelist content to explore other forms of writing via the occasional vanity project, but instead a master of nearly any format to which he turned his prodigious talent.
"prose from autumn in gerona," excerpt:
"this could be hell for me." the kaleidoscope moves with the serenity and torpor of the days. for her, in the end, there was no hell. she simply sidestepped living here. simple solutions guide our actions. sentimental education has only one motto: don't suffer. the thing moving away can be called desert, rock that looks like a man, the tectonic thinker.
"a stroll through literature," excerpts:
31. i dreamt that earth was finished. and the only human being to contemplate the end was franz kafka. in heaven, the titans were fighting to the death. from a wrought-iron bench in central park, kafka was watching the world burn.
34. i dreamt i was a really old latin american detective. i lived in new york and mark twain was hiring me to save the life of someone without a face. it's going to be a damn tough case, mr. twain, i told him.
51. i dreamt the dreamers had gone to the flower war. no one had come back. on the planks of forgotten barracks in the mountains i managed to make out a few names. from far away a voice was broadcasting over and over the orders by which they'd been condemned.
November 30, 2014
I'm not normally a poetry reader, but I enjoyed this collection very much. Written in a simple prose-style, these three (tres) long poems are a fast read, but an intriguing read. Bolaño comes across as a kind of hard-boiled detective poet, trying to piece together the parts of life that puzzle us. The result is a dark view of life, but not so dark that we can't work through it and continue on our respective journeys.
The first poem "Prose from Autumn in Gerona" is about a tenuous love affair with "the stranger" who seems to be leading him around by the testes while shredding his heart, but as with all passionate love affairs, he seems enraptured by her.
The second is called "The Neochileans" which is the name of a band that hits the road in a van, on tour through the hinterlands of Northern Chile, then onward to Peru and Ecuador. Throughout the "tour", the band struggles for recognition or even simple appreciation.
The third poem, "A Stroll Through Literature" is a series of simple prose-poem statements about the poet's dreams and the various writers who appear in his dream visions.
This edition is bi-lingual with the Spanish original versions facing the English translation. For those studying Spanish, this could be useful since Bolaño's prose is fairly simple.
The first poem "Prose from Autumn in Gerona" is about a tenuous love affair with "the stranger" who seems to be leading him around by the testes while shredding his heart, but as with all passionate love affairs, he seems enraptured by her.
The second is called "The Neochileans" which is the name of a band that hits the road in a van, on tour through the hinterlands of Northern Chile, then onward to Peru and Ecuador. Throughout the "tour", the band struggles for recognition or even simple appreciation.
The third poem, "A Stroll Through Literature" is a series of simple prose-poem statements about the poet's dreams and the various writers who appear in his dream visions.
This edition is bi-lingual with the Spanish original versions facing the English translation. For those studying Spanish, this could be useful since Bolaño's prose is fairly simple.
July 15, 2013
Prosa del Otoño em Gerona e Los Neochilenos mantêm a qualidade de Perros Romanticos, mas Un Paseo por La Literatura é excepcional, lê-lo é acordar de um sonho entusiasmante. Mesmo assim ainda prefiro o Bolaño prosador.
October 25, 2023
"Tres" de Roberto Bolaño, poemario, con rasgos autobiográficos, fragmentado en tres partes, con una poética muy cercana a la prosa y un uso de distintos tiempos verbales en cada sección, aborda temas como: la errancia melancólica, las pérdidas generacional de las ilusiones, el desamor, la muerte, la literatura, el desarraigo de la identidad, etc.
March 14, 2025
No recuerdo haber leído poesía de Roberto Bolaño; su quinto libro de poemas (2000) y el primero que leo. Parecen divagaciones y anotaciones. En torno al proceso de escribir, de pensar, de soñar e imaginar el futuro, re pensar el pasado y conversar con viejos y viejas escritores. Son tres poemario o anotaciones, de ahí la simpleza del nombre: Prosa del otoño en Gerona, Los Neochilenos y Un paseo por la literatura. Existe siempre la chance de re descubrir, al leer, al encontrar ese libro, ese título que no estaba en nuestra retina. Eso me ha pasado con este poemario, que más bien parece la publicación de una libreta de notas, pero que enternece al ir avanzando por sus páginas.
(...) "𝘌𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳é 𝘫𝘢𝘮á𝘴 𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪ó𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘮í 𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘢, 𝘦𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘫𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘰.” "𝘜𝘯𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢 𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢, 𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘴, 𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘰 𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘨𝘰 𝘯𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘢 𝘮á𝘴 𝘵𝘦 𝘷𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘳. ¿𝘈 𝘲𝘶é 𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢 𝘭𝘢 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘢? 𝘓𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘢 𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘤𝘪ó𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘰. 𝘛𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘢 𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦, 𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘴 𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘴." “𝟺𝟷. 𝘚𝘰ñé 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘢 𝘴𝘰ñ𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘵ú𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘦ñ𝘰𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘢 𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘦ñ𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘰𝘯: 𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘦ñ𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘢.” “𝘕𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘴í𝘢, 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘫𝘰𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘷𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘢 𝘺 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘷𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘦ñ𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦: 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘪ó𝘯 𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘴; 𝘢 𝘭𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘫𝘰𝘴, 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘰; 𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘮ó𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘢 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳á𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘳.” “¿𝘊ó𝘮𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘦𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘳/𝘛𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘥𝘢𝘥/𝘌𝘯 𝘶𝘯 𝘱𝘢í𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘷𝘰,/𝘛𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘢?/¿𝘈𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦/𝘌𝘭 𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘗𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘴?/𝘚𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘢 𝘦𝘯 𝘷𝘰𝘻 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘢/𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰 𝘍𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪./𝘠 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘕𝘦𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘣í𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘴//𝘘𝘶é 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳./𝘠𝘰 𝘮á𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘢/𝘊ó𝘮𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘥í𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘢𝘳/𝘌𝘴𝘢𝘴 𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘰/𝘌𝘯 𝘢𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴/𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘴.” (...)
Aquí lo puedes encontrar.
(...) "𝘌𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳é 𝘫𝘢𝘮á𝘴 𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪ó𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘮í 𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘢, 𝘦𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘫𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘰.” "𝘜𝘯𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢 𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢, 𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘴, 𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘰 𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘨𝘰 𝘯𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘢 𝘮á𝘴 𝘵𝘦 𝘷𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘳. ¿𝘈 𝘲𝘶é 𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢 𝘭𝘢 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘢? 𝘓𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘢 𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘤𝘪ó𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘰. 𝘛𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘢 𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦, 𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘴 𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘴." “𝟺𝟷. 𝘚𝘰ñé 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘢 𝘴𝘰ñ𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘵ú𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘦ñ𝘰𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘢 𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘦ñ𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘰𝘯: 𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘦ñ𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘢.” “𝘕𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘴í𝘢, 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘫𝘰𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘷𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘢 𝘺 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘷𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘦ñ𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦: 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘪ó𝘯 𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘴; 𝘢 𝘭𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘫𝘰𝘴, 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘰; 𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘮ó𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘢 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳á𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘳.” “¿𝘊ó𝘮𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘦𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘳/𝘛𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘥𝘢𝘥/𝘌𝘯 𝘶𝘯 𝘱𝘢í𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘷𝘰,/𝘛𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘢?/¿𝘈𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦/𝘌𝘭 𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘗𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘴?/𝘚𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘢 𝘦𝘯 𝘷𝘰𝘻 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘢/𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰 𝘍𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪./𝘠 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘕𝘦𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘣í𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘴//𝘘𝘶é 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳./𝘠𝘰 𝘮á𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘢/𝘊ó𝘮𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘥í𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘢𝘳/𝘌𝘴𝘢𝘴 𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘰/𝘌𝘯 𝘢𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴/𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘴.” (...)
Aquí lo puedes encontrar.
November 24, 2016
El lector perspicaz (no fue mi caso) adivinara tal vez que el librito tiene tres historias, o poemas, o dos poemas y una historia, o un poema y dos historias y que de ahi el titulo.
Tres, coincidentemente, es el numero de estrellas que le doy (a nada que haya escrito Bolano se le puede dar menos). La clasificacion (por demas innecesaria, por cierto) que se les debe dar se me hace particularmente dificil con "Prosa del Otono en Gerona" (aunque claro, ya con el titulo Bolano nos ahorro el trabajo).
El primer y el ultimo escrito exhiben algo de la incoherencia de Bolano, aunque para mi caso en particular, sin el disfrute habitual que algunas de sus incoherencias me producen. Los "Neochilenos" (escrito del medio) es el que mas se parece a una narracion (en verso). Los otros dos tal vez se acercan mas a un poesia en prosa.
No es de lo mas logrado de Bolano, pero de Bolano hay que leerlo todo (todo). Y con Bolano tambien se puede estar en desacuerdo, no con su opinion de Paz, o de Allende, o de Coelho, pero si con su propia opinion de "Tres": en una entrevista del 2001 en "El Pendulo", Bolano comento que "Tres" es "uno de mis dos mejores libros".
Tres, coincidentemente, es el numero de estrellas que le doy (a nada que haya escrito Bolano se le puede dar menos). La clasificacion (por demas innecesaria, por cierto) que se les debe dar se me hace particularmente dificil con "Prosa del Otono en Gerona" (aunque claro, ya con el titulo Bolano nos ahorro el trabajo).
El primer y el ultimo escrito exhiben algo de la incoherencia de Bolano, aunque para mi caso en particular, sin el disfrute habitual que algunas de sus incoherencias me producen. Los "Neochilenos" (escrito del medio) es el que mas se parece a una narracion (en verso). Los otros dos tal vez se acercan mas a un poesia en prosa.
No es de lo mas logrado de Bolano, pero de Bolano hay que leerlo todo (todo). Y con Bolano tambien se puede estar en desacuerdo, no con su opinion de Paz, o de Allende, o de Coelho, pero si con su propia opinion de "Tres": en una entrevista del 2001 en "El Pendulo", Bolano comento que "Tres" es "uno de mis dos mejores libros".
October 24, 2015
34. I dreamt I was a really old Latin American detective. I lived in New York and Mark Twain was hiring me to save the life someone without a face. It's going to be a damn tough case, Mr. Twain, I told him.
35. I dreamt I was falling in love with Alice Sheldon. She didn't want me. So I tried getting myself killed on three continents. Years passed. Finally, when I was really old, she appeared on the other end of the boardwalk in New York and with signals (like the ones they use on aircraft carries to help the pilots land) she told me she'd always loved me.
Bolaño makes me feel like everything is possible again; as if I've just missed the last train home, but everything is fine.
35. I dreamt I was falling in love with Alice Sheldon. She didn't want me. So I tried getting myself killed on three continents. Years passed. Finally, when I was really old, she appeared on the other end of the boardwalk in New York and with signals (like the ones they use on aircraft carries to help the pilots land) she told me she'd always loved me.
Bolaño makes me feel like everything is possible again; as if I've just missed the last train home, but everything is fine.
October 4, 2015
Siempre digo que no sé leer poesía muy bien, supongo que es porque espero algún tipo de método para hacerlo de alguna supuesta forma correcta y en la narrativa las técnicas que distinguen un trabajo bueno de uno malo se pueden detectar. Al final los libros de poesía que me gustan me gustan porque me gustan y punto.
Este libro me gustó mucho, está lleno de imágenes fascinantes. "Prosa del otoño en Gerona" es bellísimo y "Los Neochilenos" es especialmente emocionante.
Este libro me gustó mucho, está lleno de imágenes fascinantes. "Prosa del otoño en Gerona" es bellísimo y "Los Neochilenos" es especialmente emocionante.
November 16, 2016
Sueños, poesía y nostalgia.
May 12, 2017
"Questo per me potrebbe essere l'inferno". Il caleidoscopio si muove con la serenità e la noia dei giorni. Per lei, alla fine, non c'è stato nessun inferno. Ha semplicemente evitato di vivere qui. Le soluzioni semplici guidano le nostre azioni. L'educazione sentimentale ha un solo motto: non soffrire. Ciò che si allontana può essere chiamato deserto, roccia con aspetto d'uomo, il pensatore tettonico.
Il paradiso appare, velocemente, nella visione generale del caleidoscopio. Una struttura verticale piena di macchie grigie. Se chiudo gli occhi, mi balleranno dentro la testa i riflessi degli elmi, il tremore di una pianura di lance, quello che tu chiamavi il gaietto. E poi, se tolgo gli effetti drammatici, mi vedrò camminare nella piazza dei cinema verso le poste, dove non troverò nessuna lettera.
Mi sono avviata alla scrittura di Bolaño tramite i racconti e mi sono addentrata nell'autore attraverso i romanzi. E poi è arrivato il momento della poesia, ed è sempre un momento critico, si pensa che chi fa il romanziere non possa essere anche un poeta e forse, in fondo, è proprio così. Ma ci sono le dovute eccezioni, come Carver ad esempio. E Bolaño. Qui c'è tutto ciò che in quel che ho letto di Roberto fino ad ora giaceva sotto le parole, ben nascosto in mezzo alla carta delle pagine. Questo volumetto si compone di momenti struggenti, di attimi che sfuggono dalle mani e che Bolaño afferra prima che volino via. Mi sono commossa, che fosse questo, la commozione, il mio momento Atlantide, il mio caleidoscopio, il mio inferno e il mio paradiso insieme?
February 1, 2016
Not poetry neither in content or form, more like brief personal diary entries (personal as in "only important for me in this precise moment", not as in "intimate, yet universal"). Except from some (few) beautiful phrases, this "book" is extremely disappointing. I am a huge Bolaño admirer and I find tons of poetry in "Amuleto" or endless beauty and intelligence in "Entre paréntesis". And I strongly believe that "Tres" shouldn't exist as a book. It rather could and should be included as a 15-pages supplement (because its real length is about 15 pages, the rest is white space) in some collection of those made of bits and scraps that they published years after his death.
«Prosa del otoño en Gerona» - 1/5
«Los neochilenos» - 3/5
«Un paseo por la literatura» - 3/5
«Prosa del otoño en Gerona» - 1/5
«Los neochilenos» - 3/5
«Un paseo por la literatura» - 3/5
February 6, 2014
«Prosa del otoño en Gerona» cuento caleidoscópico, historia de la desesperación, del hastío, del cambio y del olvido: Uno.
Sea roadie de «Los Neochilenos». Dueños de más ganas que de dinero o talento. Acompáñelos mientras las llantas de su camioneta serpentean en los Andes, recorriendo un caminito de hormiga por la quebrada costa pacífica desde Chile hasta Ecuador: Dos.
Viaje onírico, collage de pequeñísimas ficciones pobladas de cameos «Un paseo por la literatura»: Tres.
Sea roadie de «Los Neochilenos». Dueños de más ganas que de dinero o talento. Acompáñelos mientras las llantas de su camioneta serpentean en los Andes, recorriendo un caminito de hormiga por la quebrada costa pacífica desde Chile hasta Ecuador: Dos.
Viaje onírico, collage de pequeñísimas ficciones pobladas de cameos «Un paseo por la literatura»: Tres.
January 21, 2025
This just didn't feel like Bolaño to me. But the edition is bilingual, which is very helpful for my current Spanish studies.
March 8, 2013
The continuing release of what must be everything Roberto Bolaño wrote continues with this release, Tres. As the title suggests, this is three sort works – all poetry, which was Bolaño’s preferred form –from 1981, 1993 and 1994 respectively. The three works are ‘Prose from Autumn in Gerona’, ‘The Neochileans’ and ‘A Stroll through Literature’.
Prose from Autumn in Gerona is typically Bolaño-esque piece of meta-poetry, in which a morning between two lovers is built up, knocked down and reconstructed, with musings upon the habits and thoughts of the piece’s writer (who maybe the lover too). It is a piece constructed around some startling and sometimes hallucinatory imagery. He calls the girl, The Kaleidoscope; his gaze upon her is refracted into a dozen similar yet disconnected images. What appears to be slight, sometimes has great depth. The piece is strongest when it lingers on what appears to be the mundane and it crescendos with not inconsiderable power.
The Neochileans to me seems the strongest link to Bolaño’s oeuvre as novelist – there are seeds of The Savage Detectives in here, though this time the travelling group are musicians, not poets (but that is a minor variation, if it really is a variation at all). It initially seems a weaker piece than the previous, it is more elliptical, Bolaño is less keen to fill in the blanks. However, the short, sometimes staccato sentences of this poem gather force and momentum, and the itinerant journey of this musicians – sex, drink, drugs (the cliché, but for a reason) – takes on a mournful, elegiac tone. Bolaño is singing the praises for something that has passed, until we learn “At the time Pancho was/28 or 29 years old/And soon he would die.” It might be the cliché still – the brilliant rocker, dying young – but Bolaño has done something. This might be his gaze moving in the direction of The Savage Detectives, of his memorialising a South and Central America he has left behind (for Spain), and such, it is a beginning.
Finally, A Stroll Through Literature, which also shares DNA with The Savage Detectives, and with other Bolaño works (and a debt to Borges). This piece seems to recount a series of dreams, perhaps Bolaño’s, but probably not, that chart encounters with famous writers – 69ing with Anaïs Nin “on an enormous basaltic flagstone”, or that “Baudelaire was making love to a shadow in a room where a crime had been committed.” What might simply be a series of jokey sketches takes on depth through the detail. Making love to Baudelaire is easy, but Baudelaire making love to a shadow is disturbing, and further discomfort is gained through the knowledge of a crime having been committed here (and we must suspect murder, though I don’t know why). This piece is full of moments like this. It is a patchy work – each section is just a few lines long and there are 55 of them – where some sketches work well, and others fail to ignite: “I dreamt that Philip K. Dick was walking around the Civitavecchia Nuclear Station,” reads one entry, but it adds nothing. Or at least is appears not to, because there is something else going on, a replication of places, words, and images (Civitavecchia appears more than once, for instance) – and this duplication suggests something of the dream world (we do dream similar dreams again, but never the same) but Bolaño has not excavated this thought enough – he has not pushed it to its furthest reaches.
Tres, then, is a short work. Just half the 175 advertised pages (the opposing face to the English text has the Spanish), and most of the pages have lots of white space (A Stroll Through Literature, if each entry were below the next would fill just a few pages, but Picador have pushed it over 56.) It is a work that will be of interest to Bolaño fans, but most likely unsatisfying to those new to his work. I also want to congratulate Picador for continuing to put out Bolaño’s work, and in such quality fashion. They have been lovingly translated by Laura Healy; but as I don’t speak Spanish I cannot comment on the precision of the translation, but it seems very good, in that it is easy to read.
Prose from Autumn in Gerona is typically Bolaño-esque piece of meta-poetry, in which a morning between two lovers is built up, knocked down and reconstructed, with musings upon the habits and thoughts of the piece’s writer (who maybe the lover too). It is a piece constructed around some startling and sometimes hallucinatory imagery. He calls the girl, The Kaleidoscope; his gaze upon her is refracted into a dozen similar yet disconnected images. What appears to be slight, sometimes has great depth. The piece is strongest when it lingers on what appears to be the mundane and it crescendos with not inconsiderable power.
The Neochileans to me seems the strongest link to Bolaño’s oeuvre as novelist – there are seeds of The Savage Detectives in here, though this time the travelling group are musicians, not poets (but that is a minor variation, if it really is a variation at all). It initially seems a weaker piece than the previous, it is more elliptical, Bolaño is less keen to fill in the blanks. However, the short, sometimes staccato sentences of this poem gather force and momentum, and the itinerant journey of this musicians – sex, drink, drugs (the cliché, but for a reason) – takes on a mournful, elegiac tone. Bolaño is singing the praises for something that has passed, until we learn “At the time Pancho was/28 or 29 years old/And soon he would die.” It might be the cliché still – the brilliant rocker, dying young – but Bolaño has done something. This might be his gaze moving in the direction of The Savage Detectives, of his memorialising a South and Central America he has left behind (for Spain), and such, it is a beginning.
Finally, A Stroll Through Literature, which also shares DNA with The Savage Detectives, and with other Bolaño works (and a debt to Borges). This piece seems to recount a series of dreams, perhaps Bolaño’s, but probably not, that chart encounters with famous writers – 69ing with Anaïs Nin “on an enormous basaltic flagstone”, or that “Baudelaire was making love to a shadow in a room where a crime had been committed.” What might simply be a series of jokey sketches takes on depth through the detail. Making love to Baudelaire is easy, but Baudelaire making love to a shadow is disturbing, and further discomfort is gained through the knowledge of a crime having been committed here (and we must suspect murder, though I don’t know why). This piece is full of moments like this. It is a patchy work – each section is just a few lines long and there are 55 of them – where some sketches work well, and others fail to ignite: “I dreamt that Philip K. Dick was walking around the Civitavecchia Nuclear Station,” reads one entry, but it adds nothing. Or at least is appears not to, because there is something else going on, a replication of places, words, and images (Civitavecchia appears more than once, for instance) – and this duplication suggests something of the dream world (we do dream similar dreams again, but never the same) but Bolaño has not excavated this thought enough – he has not pushed it to its furthest reaches.
Tres, then, is a short work. Just half the 175 advertised pages (the opposing face to the English text has the Spanish), and most of the pages have lots of white space (A Stroll Through Literature, if each entry were below the next would fill just a few pages, but Picador have pushed it over 56.) It is a work that will be of interest to Bolaño fans, but most likely unsatisfying to those new to his work. I also want to congratulate Picador for continuing to put out Bolaño’s work, and in such quality fashion. They have been lovingly translated by Laura Healy; but as I don’t speak Spanish I cannot comment on the precision of the translation, but it seems very good, in that it is easy to read.
July 15, 2013
Bolano's works have been recipients of the attentions of three very fine translators.. in this case, Laura Healy, who has translated much of his poetry into English. The Tres publication shows both the Spanish and their translations side by side.. and I'm blessed with a partner whose fine grasp of languages is a real boon. She has read me many of the Spanish versions in Tres, and while the language defeats me, the sonic qualities, the tones and modulations are a marvel, at least to me.
Read in English, Tres is an interesting collection of both prose and poetry, and a mingling of the two.. with narrative in poetry, and poetry in prose.. the book is a showcase of a truly great writer whose masterpiece novels are just that. This collection may be a fine read pre the tackling of 2666 or Savage Detectives, both grand favourites of mine.
Read in English, Tres is an interesting collection of both prose and poetry, and a mingling of the two.. with narrative in poetry, and poetry in prose.. the book is a showcase of a truly great writer whose masterpiece novels are just that. This collection may be a fine read pre the tackling of 2666 or Savage Detectives, both grand favourites of mine.
June 10, 2015
"prose from autumn in gerona" was incredible. by far the best part of the collection, and one of the better prose poems i've read. "the neochileans" section was pretty boring overall, and an especially meaningless poem, even for bolano. "a stroll through literature" was fun and all but there's too many authors and poets listed that i don't know for me to enjoy the poem(s) that much.
January 2, 2016
Me pareció muy chimbo...
December 4, 2016
Prose from Autumn in Gerona: 4
The Neochileans: 2
A stroll through literature: 4
The Neochileans: 2
A stroll through literature: 4
September 30, 2017
Inquietante viaje en forma de tres poemas/micro relatos del gran Bolaño.
melancólicos, intensos, cargados de sueños y esbozos de sus futuros trabajos.
melancólicos, intensos, cargados de sueños y esbozos de sus futuros trabajos.
December 24, 2017
poeme meta- și poeme bio-
December 25, 2017
Che libro stranissimo. Ho apprezzato la prima parte. La terza mi ha lasciata completamente interdetta.
February 27, 2018
Mi-a plăcut mai mult decât ,,Câinii romantici”. Fiecare text are ceva aparte și impresionează printr-o simplitate aparentă. Mi-a plăcut enorm poezia și am rămas privind în gol după fiecare vis din a treia parte. Aș reciti-o oricând, probabil de fiecare dată cu alți ochi. Mi-a deschis apetitul pentru a-l descoperi pe Bolaño. Probabil urmează ,,Al treilea Reich”.
Fragment:
Ce există în fundal când există ceva în fundal: ,,sună-l pe șefu’ și spune-i că a început să ningă”. Nu prea mai e nimic de adăugat toamnei la Giorna.
O fată face duș, pielea ei înroșită de apa caldă; pe cap, ca un turban, un prosop vechi, decolorat. Brusc, în timp ce-și rujează buzele în fața oglinzii, mă privește (sunt în spatele ei) și zice că nu e nevoie să o însoțesc la gară.
Acum repet aceeași scenă, chiar dacă nu e nimeni în fața oglinzii.
Fragment:
Ce există în fundal când există ceva în fundal: ,,sună-l pe șefu’ și spune-i că a început să ningă”. Nu prea mai e nimic de adăugat toamnei la Giorna.
O fată face duș, pielea ei înroșită de apa caldă; pe cap, ca un turban, un prosop vechi, decolorat. Brusc, în timp ce-și rujează buzele în fața oglinzii, mă privește (sunt în spatele ei) și zice că nu e nevoie să o însoțesc la gară.
Acum repet aceeași scenă, chiar dacă nu e nimeni în fața oglinzii.
January 5, 2023
Un libro muy interesante, tiene tres apartados donde practica diferentes estilos poéticos: en prosa, verso y otra vez en prosa numerada donde cuenta sus sueños para/con diferentes personas del mundo literario.
Para mí la mejor parte es Neochilenos, el ritmo es exquisito y la puesta en escena es clara, muy imaginable y abordable. En ocasiones remite a sus otros escritos como Nocturno de Chile al referirse a un cura que alucina con 40° de fiebre. Inserto en este universo bolañezco en su variante chilena, neochilena, latinoamericana, 4 amigos viajan de Santiago hasta Lima y experimentan el calor del desierto y los estertores de la fiebre.
Nunca me había sentido así al leer poesía (aunque es de mis primeras veces leyendo este tipo de escritos) y fue una experiencia muy agradable. Un viaje marcado por el ritmo del punto aparte sin la necesidad de utilizar punto alguno... Una experiencia muy divertida y sin duda, ahora entiendo por qué Bolaño se autodenominaba poeta.
Para mí la mejor parte es Neochilenos, el ritmo es exquisito y la puesta en escena es clara, muy imaginable y abordable. En ocasiones remite a sus otros escritos como Nocturno de Chile al referirse a un cura que alucina con 40° de fiebre. Inserto en este universo bolañezco en su variante chilena, neochilena, latinoamericana, 4 amigos viajan de Santiago hasta Lima y experimentan el calor del desierto y los estertores de la fiebre.
Nunca me había sentido así al leer poesía (aunque es de mis primeras veces leyendo este tipo de escritos) y fue una experiencia muy agradable. Un viaje marcado por el ritmo del punto aparte sin la necesidad de utilizar punto alguno... Una experiencia muy divertida y sin duda, ahora entiendo por qué Bolaño se autodenominaba poeta.
December 27, 2023
"31. Am visat că Terra se sfârșea. Și singurul om care contempla sfârșitul era Franz Kafka. În ceruri, Titanii se luptau pe viață și pe moarte. Dintr-un scaun de fier forjat din parcul din New York, Kafka se uita cum ardea lumea."
Mă enervează să citesc poezie tradusă. Îmi dau seama că se pierde majoritatea esenței când citești texte traduse... am primit doua volume de poezii ale lui Roberto Bolaño acum șase ani și abia acum am zis să le dau o șansă. Cu siguranță la poezie nu e genul meu, urmează să vedem și romanele cum sunt.
Mă enervează să citesc poezie tradusă. Îmi dau seama că se pierde majoritatea esenței când citești texte traduse... am primit doua volume de poezii ale lui Roberto Bolaño acum șase ani și abia acum am zis să le dau o șansă. Cu siguranță la poezie nu e genul meu, urmează să vedem și romanele cum sunt.
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