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Monsieur Pain
A un discípulo de Mesmer le encargan que cure el hipo que sufre un sudamericano pobre abandonado en un hospital de París en la primavera de 1938. En apariencia, nada puede pasar. Sin embargo el mesmerista Pierre Pain se verá envuelto en una intriga en donde se planea un asesinato ritual de proporciones planetarias. ¿Quién es el sudamericano que agoniza en el hospital Arago? ¿Por qué unas fuerzas ocultas desean su muerte? ¿Qué se pierde y qué se gana con esa muerte? Sólo Pierre Pain se da cuenta de lo que se teje entre bastidores. Y él no es un héroe sino un hombre común y corriente: solitario, secretamente enamorado de madame Reynaud, delicado, pacífico, descreído, el menos indicado para intentar resolver una historia extraordinaria a mitad de camino entre la casualidad y la causalidad, una aventura a vida o muerte en donde se pondrá en juego el amor, la soledad, la dignidad y el valor del ser humano, el delirio, la irremediable tristeza. Una insólita novela en la que el autor de Los detectives salvajes, premiado con el Rómulo Gallegos, exhibe su no menos insólita altura literaria.
131 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1999
86 people are currently reading
2039 people want to read
About the author
Roberto Bolaño
139 books6,821 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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Displaying 1 - 30 of 526 reviews
June 30, 2010
I really like Bolano. Every time I think about how I really like Bolano though I hear Ben Gibbard in my head un-ironically defending Avril Lavigne's "Complicated" as being a good song. "Because it's good. It's really really good." And then there are all the cool goodreaders and Karen (who is a cool goodreader, but also exists in real life), giggling uncontrollably and laughing at my enjoyment of Bolano, just like those hipsters are doing in the Ben Gibbard bootleg I downloaded somewhere a bunch of years ago.
When he's good he's like a Machado de Assis style writer, but in a late 20th century context. When he's really good he makes all of literature seem so much more important than it ever normally feels, and makes reading feel more exciting than anything those tards who only crack open the spine of a Vince Flynn novel on the plane traveling to their yearly convention in Vegas seem, well boring. Just like what those people would think 'wasting' your time reading a 700 page book about Mexican Poets would feel like. And when I think about how good he is I want to smash my laptop over my head in frustration that he's picked up this reputation of being something putrid that hipster cream themselves over, when every person I know who loves books should get some kind of charge out of Bolano.
But anyway all of my Bolano worship behind us now, this book doesn't make me feel those things.
This isn't that great.
It's ok.
But I don't want ok from the Bolano oeuvre. There are other authors out there for ok.
There are some good parts to the novel. But historical fiction, even done up all weird doesn't seem to have been Bolano's strength.
I have a feeling that this novel wasn't written in the normal manner that he wrote though, but was instead written to win prize money. He mentions that Monsieur Pain was the novel that won the contests that his short story about his time living in Spain and winning contests with a novel was based on.
Anyway, if you are going to give Bolano just one shot and them dismiss him don't read this book. No matter what some of the other reviewers say, this isn't typical of him, and he does better work. But it's a fine enough novel to spend a day or two reading.
When he's good he's like a Machado de Assis style writer, but in a late 20th century context. When he's really good he makes all of literature seem so much more important than it ever normally feels, and makes reading feel more exciting than anything those tards who only crack open the spine of a Vince Flynn novel on the plane traveling to their yearly convention in Vegas seem, well boring. Just like what those people would think 'wasting' your time reading a 700 page book about Mexican Poets would feel like. And when I think about how good he is I want to smash my laptop over my head in frustration that he's picked up this reputation of being something putrid that hipster cream themselves over, when every person I know who loves books should get some kind of charge out of Bolano.
But anyway all of my Bolano worship behind us now, this book doesn't make me feel those things.
This isn't that great.
It's ok.
But I don't want ok from the Bolano oeuvre. There are other authors out there for ok.
There are some good parts to the novel. But historical fiction, even done up all weird doesn't seem to have been Bolano's strength.
I have a feeling that this novel wasn't written in the normal manner that he wrote though, but was instead written to win prize money. He mentions that Monsieur Pain was the novel that won the contests that his short story about his time living in Spain and winning contests with a novel was based on.
Anyway, if you are going to give Bolano just one shot and them dismiss him don't read this book. No matter what some of the other reviewers say, this isn't typical of him, and he does better work. But it's a fine enough novel to spend a day or two reading.
April 23, 2020
Uffff... Uh, what to say about this one? That it's as accessible as his best novella "Amulet"; that, like his other smaller efforts (not, obviously, the behemoths "Savage Detectives" or "2666") there's just not that much there, that you as a reader must work with as little as possible to tie up strands & place together symbols and plots with other works of his; that at the crossroads between cinematography, the sciences, and literature (prose AND poetry) we set our scene with as much tragedy eating at the edges as a caterpillar eats up a leaf, without, of course, falling headfirst into the melodramatic.
No, Bolaño is everything but melodramatic. In his poetics, we see ingrained Assassins (the biological type, such as the sickness that befalls the healthy, plus literal killers of men) of Authentic Creators (of art, of science, of oracular innovations in the past 20th century). Yep, the observations sometimes here border on the clinical--"Mon. Pain" creates nausea but perpetuates a literary... heft. What I find most intriguing, most beguiling actually, is how Bolaño calculates in eerily imprecise ways just HOW PEOPLE MANAGE TO GET SHUFFLED BY TIME.
"I let myself sink into poverty, in a manner that was deliberate, rigorous, and not altogether devoid of elegance..." (59)
No, Bolaño is everything but melodramatic. In his poetics, we see ingrained Assassins (the biological type, such as the sickness that befalls the healthy, plus literal killers of men) of Authentic Creators (of art, of science, of oracular innovations in the past 20th century). Yep, the observations sometimes here border on the clinical--"Mon. Pain" creates nausea but perpetuates a literary... heft. What I find most intriguing, most beguiling actually, is how Bolaño calculates in eerily imprecise ways just HOW PEOPLE MANAGE TO GET SHUFFLED BY TIME.
"I let myself sink into poverty, in a manner that was deliberate, rigorous, and not altogether devoid of elegance..." (59)
March 6, 2018
" Jean Claude Pelletier, Bonno von archimboldi’yi ilk olarak 1980 yılının Noel’inde, Alman edebiyatı eğitimi almak için gittiği Paris’te, yani daha 19 yaşındayken okumuştu. Bahsi geçen kitap, D’Arsonval’di.”
Bolano’nun öleyazdığı 2666 böyle başlıyor. Peki bunun ilk romanı Mösyö Pain’le ilgisi ne derseniz, aslında yok, elbette Bolano’ya dair Archimboldi takıntısı olan okur hariç. Mösyö Pain’de D’Arsonval karşımıza Curie’ün arkadaşı olarak kısa bir süre çıkıyor ve hemen kayboluyor ve biz Bolano çetesi üyelerinin aklına kaybolmayla ilgili, neler neler geliyor. Kitaptaki barmen Raoul’u Vahşi Hafiyeler’de görüyor, Çocukların Haçlı Seferi kitabını okuyan Mösyö Pain’i bir kenarda bırakıp bu hikayeyi hangi Bolano romanında okuduğumuzu bulmak için külliyatını masaya diziyoruz. Ki bu kitabın Tılsım, Uzak Yıldız, Vahşi Hafiyeler, 2666 ile uzaktan yakından ilgisi olmamasına rağmen.
Roberto Bolano’nun bu Bolano kitaplarına benzemez kitabı, 1938’in Paris’indeki gerçek bir olaya yaslıyor anlatısını. Perulu şair Cesar Vallejo ( okur bu ismi vahşi hafiyelerden hatırlayacaktır) 15 Nisan 1938’de ( İspanya iç savaşından Paris’e dönüşünden hemen sonra) bir rivayete göre bir hastane odasında tedaviyi reddederek kendini açlıktan öldürür ( mösyö Pain'in bir türlü o kapıları aşıp tedavi için yanına gelememesi Vallejo'nun zaten tedavi istememesi ile ilgilidir) ve damardan gerçekçiliğin “babası” bu olayı Poe’nin gizemciliğini, Kafka’nın Şato’sunu, polisiye edebiyatın bin türlü numarasını ve Marquez’den çok Rulfo’nun büyülü gerçekçiliğini sahaya sürerek, dünya savaşının ön günlerinde, İspanya iç savaşı tüm hararetiyle sürer ve Paris uyumaya devam ederken anlatmaya başlar. Mösyö Pain'in meziyetleri olan okülpt, falcılık, hipnoz, akupunktur gibi yöntemler dönemin akıldan azade Avrupa 'sını betimlemek için biçilmiş kaftandır.
Bu kitabı, Vahşi Hafiyeler ile 20. Yüzyılı kapatan, 2666 ile 21. Yüzyılı başlatan adını Marquez, Cortazar, Fuentes ve Borges’in yanına gönül rahatlığıyla yazacağım büyük bir yazarın kanat alıştırmaları olarak da okumak mümkün. Ancak eserin tadına varmak için, öncesinde bahsettiğim kitapları okumanızı öneririm hatta bu eserden bağımsız hemen şimdi elinizde ne varsa bırakıp Vahşi Hafiyeler ve 2666’yı okumanızı öneririm.
Mösyö Pain’e dair son söz, özellikle hastane koridorlarında, gece kulübü ambarında ve sinema salonunda geçen bölümler benim için anlatının güçlendiği bölümlerdi, filler geçidi ile biten son söz ise yapı olarak bana Vahşi Hafiyeler’in Meksika’da Kaybolan Meksika’lılar bölümünün eskizi gibi geldi.
Son olarak; Vahşi Hafiyeler ve 2666’yı iki kere okuyun demiştim değil mi?
Bolano’nun öleyazdığı 2666 böyle başlıyor. Peki bunun ilk romanı Mösyö Pain’le ilgisi ne derseniz, aslında yok, elbette Bolano’ya dair Archimboldi takıntısı olan okur hariç. Mösyö Pain’de D’Arsonval karşımıza Curie’ün arkadaşı olarak kısa bir süre çıkıyor ve hemen kayboluyor ve biz Bolano çetesi üyelerinin aklına kaybolmayla ilgili, neler neler geliyor. Kitaptaki barmen Raoul’u Vahşi Hafiyeler’de görüyor, Çocukların Haçlı Seferi kitabını okuyan Mösyö Pain’i bir kenarda bırakıp bu hikayeyi hangi Bolano romanında okuduğumuzu bulmak için külliyatını masaya diziyoruz. Ki bu kitabın Tılsım, Uzak Yıldız, Vahşi Hafiyeler, 2666 ile uzaktan yakından ilgisi olmamasına rağmen.
Roberto Bolano’nun bu Bolano kitaplarına benzemez kitabı, 1938’in Paris’indeki gerçek bir olaya yaslıyor anlatısını. Perulu şair Cesar Vallejo ( okur bu ismi vahşi hafiyelerden hatırlayacaktır) 15 Nisan 1938’de ( İspanya iç savaşından Paris’e dönüşünden hemen sonra) bir rivayete göre bir hastane odasında tedaviyi reddederek kendini açlıktan öldürür ( mösyö Pain'in bir türlü o kapıları aşıp tedavi için yanına gelememesi Vallejo'nun zaten tedavi istememesi ile ilgilidir) ve damardan gerçekçiliğin “babası” bu olayı Poe’nin gizemciliğini, Kafka’nın Şato’sunu, polisiye edebiyatın bin türlü numarasını ve Marquez’den çok Rulfo’nun büyülü gerçekçiliğini sahaya sürerek, dünya savaşının ön günlerinde, İspanya iç savaşı tüm hararetiyle sürer ve Paris uyumaya devam ederken anlatmaya başlar. Mösyö Pain'in meziyetleri olan okülpt, falcılık, hipnoz, akupunktur gibi yöntemler dönemin akıldan azade Avrupa 'sını betimlemek için biçilmiş kaftandır.
Bu kitabı, Vahşi Hafiyeler ile 20. Yüzyılı kapatan, 2666 ile 21. Yüzyılı başlatan adını Marquez, Cortazar, Fuentes ve Borges’in yanına gönül rahatlığıyla yazacağım büyük bir yazarın kanat alıştırmaları olarak da okumak mümkün. Ancak eserin tadına varmak için, öncesinde bahsettiğim kitapları okumanızı öneririm hatta bu eserden bağımsız hemen şimdi elinizde ne varsa bırakıp Vahşi Hafiyeler ve 2666’yı okumanızı öneririm.
Mösyö Pain’e dair son söz, özellikle hastane koridorlarında, gece kulübü ambarında ve sinema salonunda geçen bölümler benim için anlatının güçlendiği bölümlerdi, filler geçidi ile biten son söz ise yapı olarak bana Vahşi Hafiyeler’in Meksika’da Kaybolan Meksika’lılar bölümünün eskizi gibi geldi.
Son olarak; Vahşi Hafiyeler ve 2666’yı iki kere okuyun demiştim değil mi?
May 22, 2019
دوستانِ گرانقدر، این کتاب از آن دسته از نوشته هایست که شاید با سلیقۀ هر خواننده ای، جور نباشد... داستان، خطِ مشخصی را دنبال نمیکند و مدام به موضوعاتی پرش میکند که هیچ ارتباطی به آنچه شما در صفحه هایِ پیشین خوانده اید ندارد... شخصیتِ اصلیِ داستان «پی یر پین» چهل و هشت سال دارد و جوانی اش را در جنگ بوده و حال با حقوقِ ارتش، گذرانِ زندگی میکند... البته او به طبِ سوزنی، تا حدودی وارد است.. ولی ما بیماری را سراغ نداریم که او توانسته باشد با طبِ سوزنی او را درمان کند.. آخرین بیمارِ او، «آقای رینود» بوده که پی یر، نتوانسته او را از مرگ نجات دهد... پس از این اتفاق، پی یر پین و همسرِ این بیمار یعنی «مادام رینود» بیشتر به هم نزدیک میشوند و بیشترِ اوقات با یکدیگر به گشت و گذار میپردازند.. البته با آنکه بسیاری از ساعات روز را با هم هستند، ولی با هم رابطۀ سکسی نداشته اند... با این وجود، پی یر پین، تصور میکند که مادام رینود او را دوست داشته باشد... ولی خبر ندارد که مادام رینودِ جوان، مردِ دیگری را برایِ ازدواج در نظر گرفته است... در هر حال، روزی از روزها، مادام رینود، از پین درخواست میکند تا همسرِ دوستش یعنی آقای «وایخو» را با طبِ سوزنی درمان کند.. وایخو مُدام سکسکه میکند و دکترها درمانی برایِ آن پیدا نکرده اند، چراکه چیزی در آزمایشاتش مشخص نیست و صدالبته اعضایِ بدنش نیز سالم است... پی یر پین با چک کردنِ وضعیتِ بیمار، به این شک میکند که گویا وایخو، هروقت خودش بخواهد میتواند این سکسکه کردن ها را متوقف کند.. البته «دکتر لمیر» و دستیارانش نمیگذارند تا او دیگر به سمتِ بیمار رود و حتی اجازۀ ورود به اتاقِ بیمار را هم به او نمیدهند... در این میان، دو مردِ اسپانیایی که از آغازِ داستان او را تعقیب میکنند، به او مقدارِ زیادی پول رشوه میدهند تا او درمانِ آقایِ وایخو را قبول نکند... ولی پین نمیداند که این دو مرد مشکوک که همیشه او را تعقیب میکنند، چه کسانی هستند و هدفشان چیست!! آیا موضوعِ شرط بندی بینِ این دو اسپانیایی در میان است؟ یا موضوع چیزِ دیگریست!..... عزیزانم، بهتر است خودتان این داستان را خوانده و از سرانجامِ آن آگاه شوید
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امیدوارم این ریویو در جهتِ آشنایی با این کتاب، کافی و مفید بوده باشه
«پیروز باشید و ایرانی»
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امیدوارم این ریویو در جهتِ آشنایی با این کتاب، کافی و مفید بوده باشه
«پیروز باشید و ایرانی»
July 5, 2020
Monsieur Pain is among Bolaño’s earliest efforts, written at a time when he was attempting to earn a living by pursuing prize money offered by regional writing contests throughout Spain. It's very much like an apprentice at work, but there are hints as to the writer he would become. It doesn't surprise me to see a poet in there, and a bit of a conspiracy too. Set in Paris in 1938, Pierre Pain, is a mesmerist called to the bedside of the famed Peruvian César Vallejo, who can't stop hiccupping. The doctors can't figure it out, and Pain is called in as a last resort by Madame Reynaud, a widow and close friend, who is a friend of Vallejo's wife. The situation is complicated by those that seem to take an interest in seeing to it that Vallejo is not helped, and Pain is even bribed to stay away from tending to him. He remains largely uncomprehending, is often confused, and feels like he is lost as Bolaño blurs reality with surreality. Along with Pain, we find ourselves caught in labyrinths whose depth and strangeness pay homage to the likes of Borges. Bolaño leans on the ominous motifs of film noir to establish a paranoid vibe, with men in dark suits and upturned collars standing under single light sources in perpetual rain, handing off envelopes stuffed with cash, while the impending war looms subtly in the background. This is far from his best work, but there was just about enough intrigue in the narrative to keep me interested.
October 29, 2017
"Mösyö Pain" Bolano'nun, dev eserlerinden sonra okumuş olduğum en ilgi çekici eseri diyebilirim rahatlıkla. Türkçede yayımlanmış bütün Bolano kitapları (Lümpen Roman hariç) okuyucuyu aynı dünyaya davet eder, atmosfer açısından birbirleriyle karışıktırlar. Fakat bu kez çok daha farklı bir dünya var. Ancak bu farklılığa rağmen yine Bolano romanları arasında kurabildiğimiz bağlantılar hemen kendini gösteriyor. Yazar, kitapları arasında sürekli ipler gerer, bilen bilir, burada da da o his bizimle.
Bolano'nun 1981-82 döneminde yazdığı eser, ilk olarak 1994 senesinde yayımlanmış. Sonrasında isim değişiklikleri, düzeltmelerle, son haline 1999'daki 'Monsier Pain' baskısıyla ulaşmış. Edgar Allan Poe öykülerinden alışık olduğumuz bir atmosfer ile başlayan kitap ilerledikçe Kafkaesk diyebileceğimiz bir anlatıya dönüşürken; sonlara doğru imgeleri çok doğru girilmiş bir Murakami hikayesi hissi veriyor. Anlayacağınız, bildiğimiz Bolano'dan farklı bayağı:)
Bolano, 1938 senesinin Paris'inde geçen öyküyü, gerçek bir olaydan yola çıkarak kaleme almış. Sonradan Latin Amerika şiirinin en önemli isimlerinden biri olarak anılacak olan Perulu Şair Cesar Vallejo, 1938 senesinde, Paris'te tedavi edilemez ve nihayetinde ölür. Öldüğünde önemsiz bir şahsiyet olan Vallejo'nun değeri senelerle beraber anlaşılır. Çok az sayıda eser bırakmış olmasına rağmen, bu eserler yepyeni bir soluğun başlangıcı sayılmaktadır şuan. Bolano'nun şairlere olan sevgi, saygı hatta saplantısını biliyoruz. Vallejo'ya da bu eseriyle bir saygı duruşunda bulunmak istemiş diye düşünüyorum.
Eser iktidar ile bireyin mücadelesine, Franco İspanyası üzerinden bir bakış atıyor. Siyasi bir anlatıya dönüşmeden, polisiye karakterini kaybetmeden, o dönemlerin nabzını dipten dibe çok iyi veriyor. Hatta direkt olarak suçlayan bir tavırla konuyu ele alıyor. Bolano resmen yazmadığı, sadece satır aralarında kast ettiği; okunmayan ama net bir şekilde hissedilen öykünün geri planıyla eseri değerli kılıyor. Siyasi terör öyle güzel sunuluyor ki; bayat bir polisiye kurgusuna neler yedirilebileceğini gösteriyor.
7.5/10
Bolano'nun 1981-82 döneminde yazdığı eser, ilk olarak 1994 senesinde yayımlanmış. Sonrasında isim değişiklikleri, düzeltmelerle, son haline 1999'daki 'Monsier Pain' baskısıyla ulaşmış. Edgar Allan Poe öykülerinden alışık olduğumuz bir atmosfer ile başlayan kitap ilerledikçe Kafkaesk diyebileceğimiz bir anlatıya dönüşürken; sonlara doğru imgeleri çok doğru girilmiş bir Murakami hikayesi hissi veriyor. Anlayacağınız, bildiğimiz Bolano'dan farklı bayağı:)
Bolano, 1938 senesinin Paris'inde geçen öyküyü, gerçek bir olaydan yola çıkarak kaleme almış. Sonradan Latin Amerika şiirinin en önemli isimlerinden biri olarak anılacak olan Perulu Şair Cesar Vallejo, 1938 senesinde, Paris'te tedavi edilemez ve nihayetinde ölür. Öldüğünde önemsiz bir şahsiyet olan Vallejo'nun değeri senelerle beraber anlaşılır. Çok az sayıda eser bırakmış olmasına rağmen, bu eserler yepyeni bir soluğun başlangıcı sayılmaktadır şuan. Bolano'nun şairlere olan sevgi, saygı hatta saplantısını biliyoruz. Vallejo'ya da bu eseriyle bir saygı duruşunda bulunmak istemiş diye düşünüyorum.
Eser iktidar ile bireyin mücadelesine, Franco İspanyası üzerinden bir bakış atıyor. Siyasi bir anlatıya dönüşmeden, polisiye karakterini kaybetmeden, o dönemlerin nabzını dipten dibe çok iyi veriyor. Hatta direkt olarak suçlayan bir tavırla konuyu ele alıyor. Bolano resmen yazmadığı, sadece satır aralarında kast ettiği; okunmayan ama net bir şekilde hissedilen öykünün geri planıyla eseri değerli kılıyor. Siyasi terör öyle güzel sunuluyor ki; bayat bir polisiye kurgusuna neler yedirilebileceğini gösteriyor.
7.5/10
November 3, 2017
bolano edebiyatın meselesi ve gerçekliğiyle hayatın meselesi ve gerçekliğini buluşturmayı başarabilen bir yazar. edebiyata hayat verebiliyor, hayatı edebiyatlaştırabiliyor. yetenekle de çalışmayla da ulaşılabilecek yazarlık seviyesinin üzerinde, özel bir konumda. bu sebeple para ve ödül için yazdığı ilk romanlardan biri olsa da, başka kriterlerle değerlendirildiğinde kusurları bulunsa da mösyö pain özünde eşsiz bir cevher bulunduran bir roman.
kahramanımız büyük savaşta yaralandıktan sonra emekliye ayrılan, gazi maaşıyla geçinip kendini gizemli "bilimlerle" oyalayan pain, 1938'in paris'inde ölmek üzere olan şair valejo'yu tedavi etmek için bir davet alır ve fakat önce bir şarlatan olduğu gerekçesiyle doktorlar tarafından, sonra da kim olduğunu bilmediği kişiler tarafından bu tedavi engellenir. pain bu engelleri aşıp ölmek üzere olan şaire ulaşmak için mücadele ederken kendini bir labirentin içinde bulur, şehrin ve hayatın karanlıklarına savrulur...
akla hemen poe ve kafka'yı getiren bir hikaye, evet. ancak bununla açıklanacak, bu noktada kalacak bir roman değil kesinlikle. bolano'nun bu hikayle ulaşmak istediği başka bir nokta var. bu hikaye savaşı görüp yaşamış kahramanının zayıflığı, kapıldığı korkuları, kabusları ve paranoyasıyla ile yükselen faşizmi ve ikinci dünya savaşının eşiğindeki paris'in tedirginliğini, güvensizliğini, tekinsizliğini buluşturacak, paris'ten karanlığa teslim olan dünyayı gösterecek ve sonra buradan zamanını, mekanını aşıp bir gerçeklik olarak gelip okurun hayatına dokunacak. amaç bu.
kendi alanında, kendi gerçekliğinde vücut bulup hayata karışan edebiyat. ne poe gizemi, ne kafkaesk ortamlar, biçim her neyse içerikle bütünleşmeli, bu bütünlük gerçekten meseleniz olan bir meseleye işaret etmeli ve kalıplaşmadan, katılaşmadan, ince ince hayata sızabilmeli. mösyö pain bunun kusursuz bir örneği olmasa da bunu anlayan, amaçlayan bir roman. sonra bolano ilerleyecek, sonra günümüzde bolano gibi yazmaya çalışan sayısız yazar olacak.
kahramanımız büyük savaşta yaralandıktan sonra emekliye ayrılan, gazi maaşıyla geçinip kendini gizemli "bilimlerle" oyalayan pain, 1938'in paris'inde ölmek üzere olan şair valejo'yu tedavi etmek için bir davet alır ve fakat önce bir şarlatan olduğu gerekçesiyle doktorlar tarafından, sonra da kim olduğunu bilmediği kişiler tarafından bu tedavi engellenir. pain bu engelleri aşıp ölmek üzere olan şaire ulaşmak için mücadele ederken kendini bir labirentin içinde bulur, şehrin ve hayatın karanlıklarına savrulur...
akla hemen poe ve kafka'yı getiren bir hikaye, evet. ancak bununla açıklanacak, bu noktada kalacak bir roman değil kesinlikle. bolano'nun bu hikayle ulaşmak istediği başka bir nokta var. bu hikaye savaşı görüp yaşamış kahramanının zayıflığı, kapıldığı korkuları, kabusları ve paranoyasıyla ile yükselen faşizmi ve ikinci dünya savaşının eşiğindeki paris'in tedirginliğini, güvensizliğini, tekinsizliğini buluşturacak, paris'ten karanlığa teslim olan dünyayı gösterecek ve sonra buradan zamanını, mekanını aşıp bir gerçeklik olarak gelip okurun hayatına dokunacak. amaç bu.
kendi alanında, kendi gerçekliğinde vücut bulup hayata karışan edebiyat. ne poe gizemi, ne kafkaesk ortamlar, biçim her neyse içerikle bütünleşmeli, bu bütünlük gerçekten meseleniz olan bir meseleye işaret etmeli ve kalıplaşmadan, katılaşmadan, ince ince hayata sızabilmeli. mösyö pain bunun kusursuz bir örneği olmasa da bunu anlayan, amaçlayan bir roman. sonra bolano ilerleyecek, sonra günümüzde bolano gibi yazmaya çalışan sayısız yazar olacak.
June 23, 2018
Another plotless enigma from Bolaño. It's set in Paris in 1938 when Pierre Pain, the eponymous narrator, a devotee of Mesmerism, is called in by his friend Madame Reynaud to see what he can do to halt the rapid decline of Cesar Vallejo. The Peruvian poet is apparently dying of hiccups. Reynaud recently lost her husband in a case in which Pain's intervention was ineffective, but now says she has "faith" in his ability to help Vallejo. Pain moves about a Paris beset by surrealist distortions: the hospital corridors twist in upon themselves à la the New York Guggenheim. ' "It's like a modern art gallery," I heard Madame Reynaud murmur. "The corridors are circular, in fact," I said. "If they were longer we could reach the top story without ever having noticed the climb." ' So off they go to see Vallejo with the poet's wife leading the way. But they are impeded, first by a nasty physician by the name of Lejard who, alluding to Pain, announces he has no time for charlatans, then by a more formidable delegation led by the previously unavailable Dr. Lemiere, who now deigns to take the Vallejo case. At the same time Pain is being followed for unknown reasons by two Spaniards. They give him cash, which he takes, upbraiding himself for cowardliness. His mentor Paul Rivette mentions the presence in the city of an old mutual acquaintance, Pleumeur-Bodou, now an intelligence operative for Franco's fascists. Both eventually end up in a cinema discussing a bizarre film which was grafted together from part of an aborted documentary and part of an aborted drama. There is massive intercutting between the voiceover of the film, Pain's thoughts, and the dialogue of Pain and Pleumeur-Bodou. You get the idea. None of this, needless to say, makes a bit of sense, nor was it meant to. Though one enjoys the deployment of the surrealist atmosphere there is no linear sense to be had, only subtext, to be pieced together from multiple readings. . . (This is my first.) The novel's a mindteaser but a pleasurable one and therefore recommended.
May 12, 2013
>Wherever the sun doesn't go I don't go either. Except to pubs. -- Bohumil Hrabal
Monsignor Pain is a delightful construction. It is a blurred exposure. It is an appropriate paranoiac period piece; the Paris of 1938 teemed with suspicions and throttled aspirations. Bolano's titular protagonist is a haunted sort, gassed during the Great War and living on a pension, he's an Occultist and a confident. His bleery hopes are all unrequited. He stumbles and yet clings. A downpour of madness and paranoia overtakes him for a two day trip out of the bounds of proscribed sanity: with the Peruvian poet Vallejo reclining just off stage.
The best images occur in Pain's rainy visit to a cinema. The air throughout the novella remains heavy with absinthe, wet clothing and vermin. Who could honestly want more than this?
Monsignor Pain is a delightful construction. It is a blurred exposure. It is an appropriate paranoiac period piece; the Paris of 1938 teemed with suspicions and throttled aspirations. Bolano's titular protagonist is a haunted sort, gassed during the Great War and living on a pension, he's an Occultist and a confident. His bleery hopes are all unrequited. He stumbles and yet clings. A downpour of madness and paranoia overtakes him for a two day trip out of the bounds of proscribed sanity: with the Peruvian poet Vallejo reclining just off stage.
The best images occur in Pain's rainy visit to a cinema. The air throughout the novella remains heavy with absinthe, wet clothing and vermin. Who could honestly want more than this?
August 29, 2020
*This review may contain tiny spoilers*
This was my first Bolaño, and judging from the other reviews, I see that I should've read 2666 and/or The Savage Detectives before this one to be able to understand the references in this book. To be honest, maybe because I'm not accustomed to this writer's style or didn't know the references, I didn't like this one much. Everything happened so fast, while nothing was happening. It abruptly ended, in an aimless manner, making me think, "Well, what exactly happened?" Why are we told this story almost in a superficial manner? I mean, there is no explanation or description of how Pain is able to heal people or what was the point of Spaniards and the money, or the brothers Pain comes across, or the warehouse, etc.? Is everything a part of a bigger picture that I don't know because I haven't read the books mentioned above?
It did feel like a transition book, in which nothing is really revealed and the reader is assumed to know what it is really about. Unfortunately, I didn't, which led to a very poor reading experience, because I seek to learn things from the books I read as well as some entertainment, not study them using other resources before I read them so I can understand them. I mean, I do a lot of research for my PhD already, and I turn to books to relieve the stress of constant research. However, asking yourself, "Am I missing something?" "Am I missing the point?" "What was the purpose of this event to occur?" most of the time is the opposite of what I'm seeking. In my opinion, a stand-alone novel should be enjoyed whether you know the references or familiar to the author's knowledge or not. At least, it has to give you something to work for; some explanation, some information, whether woven into the story or as a preface, maybe open the doors to a certain culture, a certain kind of literature. Unfortunately, Monsieur Pain didn't do something like that for me. If I hadn't seen the enthusiastic reviews of my GR friends on Bolaño's other novels, reading only this book wouldn't keep my interest in reading more from him.
Though, I do believe that reading other novels of the author first may give you a clear understanding of this one. At least, it is what I gathered reading others' reviews. I guess I'll see when I read the aforementioned novels in the future. But till then, for this one, 2 stars.
This was my first Bolaño, and judging from the other reviews, I see that I should've read 2666 and/or The Savage Detectives before this one to be able to understand the references in this book. To be honest, maybe because I'm not accustomed to this writer's style or didn't know the references, I didn't like this one much. Everything happened so fast, while nothing was happening. It abruptly ended, in an aimless manner, making me think, "Well, what exactly happened?" Why are we told this story almost in a superficial manner? I mean, there is no explanation or description of how Pain is able to heal people or what was the point of Spaniards and the money, or the brothers Pain comes across, or the warehouse, etc.? Is everything a part of a bigger picture that I don't know because I haven't read the books mentioned above?
It did feel like a transition book, in which nothing is really revealed and the reader is assumed to know what it is really about. Unfortunately, I didn't, which led to a very poor reading experience, because I seek to learn things from the books I read as well as some entertainment, not study them using other resources before I read them so I can understand them. I mean, I do a lot of research for my PhD already, and I turn to books to relieve the stress of constant research. However, asking yourself, "Am I missing something?" "Am I missing the point?" "What was the purpose of this event to occur?" most of the time is the opposite of what I'm seeking. In my opinion, a stand-alone novel should be enjoyed whether you know the references or familiar to the author's knowledge or not. At least, it has to give you something to work for; some explanation, some information, whether woven into the story or as a preface, maybe open the doors to a certain culture, a certain kind of literature. Unfortunately, Monsieur Pain didn't do something like that for me. If I hadn't seen the enthusiastic reviews of my GR friends on Bolaño's other novels, reading only this book wouldn't keep my interest in reading more from him.
Though, I do believe that reading other novels of the author first may give you a clear understanding of this one. At least, it is what I gathered reading others' reviews. I guess I'll see when I read the aforementioned novels in the future. But till then, for this one, 2 stars.
November 23, 2024
Monsieur Pain occupies a peculiar place within Bolaño’s expansive oeuvre. It is lean and spare in its storytelling, an anomaly amidst the richly labyrinthine constructions for which Bolaño is rightly celebrated. Yet its lightness conceals an unsettling meditation on solitude, failure, and the unknowable forces that govern our lives.
Bolaño’s use of classic noir elements is striking. The novel’s strength lies in its descriptions, which evoke the static hum of nightmare logic, where the world becomes a series of disjointed tableaux: a hospital window glimpsed through a taxi’s fogged glass, labyrinthine dream corridors, hiccups described as a “sonic ectoplasm.” Bolaño conjures these uncanny images with an almost musical rhythm that captures the titular character’s ennui and his tenuous grip on reality.
Rereading Monsieur Pain, I found its spareness at odds with the expansive depth I normally associate with Bolaño’s work. This novella feels akin to a carefully arranged amuse-bouche, offering a fleeting taste of his broader thematic concerns but little of the richness that defines works like 2666, By Night in Chile, or The Savage Detectives.
Though Monsieur Pain may not scale the heights of Bolaño’s most lauded works, it nonetheless reveals a fragment of his larger vision: a world in which solitude, dread, and fleeting moments of transcendence coexist—uncomfortably and unforgettably.
Bolaño’s use of classic noir elements is striking. The novel’s strength lies in its descriptions, which evoke the static hum of nightmare logic, where the world becomes a series of disjointed tableaux: a hospital window glimpsed through a taxi’s fogged glass, labyrinthine dream corridors, hiccups described as a “sonic ectoplasm.” Bolaño conjures these uncanny images with an almost musical rhythm that captures the titular character’s ennui and his tenuous grip on reality.
Rereading Monsieur Pain, I found its spareness at odds with the expansive depth I normally associate with Bolaño’s work. This novella feels akin to a carefully arranged amuse-bouche, offering a fleeting taste of his broader thematic concerns but little of the richness that defines works like 2666, By Night in Chile, or The Savage Detectives.
Though Monsieur Pain may not scale the heights of Bolaño’s most lauded works, it nonetheless reveals a fragment of his larger vision: a world in which solitude, dread, and fleeting moments of transcendence coexist—uncomfortably and unforgettably.
November 6, 2017
Beğenimizi temsil etmeye çalışan şu zavallı yıldızlara şimdi çak bir beşlik dememi kimse çok görmez herhalde. Bazı yazarlarla bazı okuyucular arasında özel mi özel, açıklanamaz türden bir bağ, bir şey gelişir. Bu beş yıldızı Pain'in gaipten (mi) duyduğu hıçkırıklara bile verebilirim. Veya sırf 2666'nın eleştirmenlerinden birinin bir rüyasına. Veya sırf dünyanın en korkunç kontak sesine. Veya sırf bulutları dilim dilim eden bir pilotun deliliğine. Veya sırf olmadık bir saatte acayip bir bara takılan bir baba oğulun masasındaki içkilere. Veya damardan gerçekçilerin en çaylağına belki. N'olur sanki.
August 4, 2019
Harika bir kitap okudum. Bolano karşı koyamayacağınız müthiş bir dünya kurmuş sizi içine cekiyor. Tüm gerçekliğini halâ şaşkınlıkla düşündüğüm ve uzun sure düşüneceğim bir dile yedirmiş. Sıkmıyor, uzamıyor, merak uyandırıyor sürüklüyor ve hepsini zaman kavramıyla oynayıp 100 kusur sayfa gibi bir ölçümle yapıyor. Kitabı henüz bitirdiğim için şaşkın bir okur yorumu yaptığımın farkındayım. Ama bir şey yazmasam da haksızlık olacaktı. Neden 4’yıldız sorusunun cevabını ise Bolano’nun diğer eserleriyle ister istemez içimde kıyas yapmamla açıklıyorum sanırım.
December 22, 2015
"I do also recall, however, that for Terzeff every death had a ritual function; death, indeed, was the only genuine rite left in the world."
-- Roberto Bolaño, Monsieur Pain
"Geometry, everything was geometry and shit."
-- Roberto Bolaño, Monsieur Pain
A weird little Bolaño. A novella (Bolaño second written, first published) set in Paris in the 30s and narrated by the most unreliable mesmerist Pierre Pain. In some ways it reminded me of one of Nabokov's early, funky Russian novellas. It is all dark glass and rain and smoke and damp theaters and long hallways and hospitals and doctors.
It is a dark mystery room without a door out. The narrator doesn't really solve the mystery. The victim isn't saved. The reader is left with almost less information and satisfaction at the end than the beginning. If it was sex, Bolaño would fail to get aroused, ignore his partner's libido, and just roll over and watch a movie instead. Even the novel's funky epilogue (for voices) doesn't resolve anything, other than the reality that death is the BIG inescapable mystery, and the final climax for everyone. Perhaps, that, THAT is the answer. Perhaps, that is the only answer possible. Anything before, and anything between birth and death is as certain and comprehensible as animal magnetism, hypnotism, and mesmerism. So destroy the form. Kill the thrill.
-- Roberto Bolaño, Monsieur Pain
"Geometry, everything was geometry and shit."
-- Roberto Bolaño, Monsieur Pain
A weird little Bolaño. A novella (Bolaño second written, first published) set in Paris in the 30s and narrated by the most unreliable mesmerist Pierre Pain. In some ways it reminded me of one of Nabokov's early, funky Russian novellas. It is all dark glass and rain and smoke and damp theaters and long hallways and hospitals and doctors.
It is a dark mystery room without a door out. The narrator doesn't really solve the mystery. The victim isn't saved. The reader is left with almost less information and satisfaction at the end than the beginning. If it was sex, Bolaño would fail to get aroused, ignore his partner's libido, and just roll over and watch a movie instead. Even the novel's funky epilogue (for voices) doesn't resolve anything, other than the reality that death is the BIG inescapable mystery, and the final climax for everyone. Perhaps, that, THAT is the answer. Perhaps, that is the only answer possible. Anything before, and anything between birth and death is as certain and comprehensible as animal magnetism, hypnotism, and mesmerism. So destroy the form. Kill the thrill.
April 17, 2020
Sevmedim, sevemedim. Ben ki Bolano sever, ilgili-ilgisiz herkese onun kitaplarını öneren bir okurum. Olmamış, her mevzu-her karakter kopuk kopuk. Sanki aceleye gelmiş, bir yere-bir şeye yetiştirilmek istenmiş gibi (ki yazar önsözde bu kitapla kaç yarışmaya başvurduğunu, farklı adlarla ödüller aldığından bizzat dem vuruyor). Oysa ki materyal ilginç, okuyucu kendini ilk 90 sayfada polisiye bir hikayenin, bir bilinmezliğin içinde gibi hissediyor, oysa ki her şey, her kişi havada kalıyor. Şu Corona günlerinde kafamın dağınıklığından mı diye geri dönüp okudum, yok...
January 29, 2013
Politics, and the fascination for labyrinths
In the worldly sense, Monsieur Pain is a failure, simply because it pretends - or rather it has to pretend - to be a novel. First time Bolano readers may even be expected to hurl it toward the nearby wall.
But Bolano's work relies, not just for its comprehensiveness, but also for its comprehension, on the entire body of the work, and also on Bolano's life itself. Bolano is not the kind of writer you can read one book of and form an opinion. In fact, to form a decent opinion about any single book, a lot more Bolano has to be read. I myself am becoming a better Bolano reader, book after book.
The best online review is on The Quarterly Conversation where Stephen Henighan does the good task of pinning this novel(?) to the usual Bolano theme of resuscitating or finding exiled or lost poets. If Monsieur Pain is not your first Bolano, and you still feel cheated by it, Henighan's interpretation will provide some solace. Through the mention of a poem by the Peruvian poet Cesar Vallejo, who is a character in the novel (one whom we never meet) Henighan articulates, for the Bolano reader, a raison d'etre for this book. Vallejo was a persecuted poet, who lived his last days in late 30's Paris, and even imagined a death in the city, where he was distanced from the Civil War in Spain - a political event about which he had, presumably, strong feelings. Contrast this with Bolano's own situation in the early Seventies. As a young man, Bolano had himself felt the urge to participate in the political events of his native country Chile (google the overthrow of the Socialist Allende government in the coup d'etat in 1973, perpetrated by the CIA), events from which he was distanced because of being in Mexico City. That Bolano did eventually land up in Chile and was arrested and was (or was not, no one knows the truth) tortured may be beside the point. The point is: In 1981-82, a thirty year old Bolano, situated in Europe, might have taken the time to see a tenuous connection between his life and Vallejo's.
But Bolano the writer is never clear or unambiguous, just as Bolano the man was never so himself. The angst that pushed Bolano to Chile abated, and threw him back to Mexico City. His political confusion merged with the post '68 confusion of Mexican avant-garde poetry. Note also that while Vallejo's persecution was political - he was a Communist - Bolano's persecution was personal more than anything else, in part because he was a poet without a cause, for whom politics was nothing more than another vain attempt to find that cause. What resulted was the vagabondism that is the center of 'The Savage Detectives,' and the slow gaining of that quality of literary vagabondism that beautifies all of Bolano's work - a healthy distaste, almost one borne out of incomprehension, of objective reality; a severance from the world and its ideas; the a hollowness of the anti-ideology; and the search of an aesthetic for a literature that might have nothing to say.
It is in this light that an analysis can veer toward the question of Bolano's precursors. Disregarding chronology, if one is willing to move forward in time, one can locate some similarities between Monsieur Pain and 'The New Life' by Orhan Pamuk. The Turkish master's novel was written a decade after Bolano wrote Pain, and was judged, by some critics, to be the kind of novel Borges might have deigned to write. (Some critics have called Monsieur Pain an inferior version of Paul Auster's post-modern metaphysical mysteries. I personally feel that the comparison with Auster is not as apt as the one with the Pamuk of 'The New Life.' Whereas Auster is trying to create a metaphysical aesthetic of noir, the strong political subtext of Pamuk's and Bolano's creations, and an added layer of poetry in the latter's, brings the two closer together, and also distances them from Auster). One could consider Borges to be as much a precursor to Bolano as well, and certainly a guiding light to reading this labyrinthine first novel by Bolano. One only needs to know that while the conundrums in Borges were due especially to the clarity of his vision, Bolano's conundrums are of an inferior kind: he himself doesn't know where he wants to take us.
In all his work, Bolano has taken from his life a political confusion, taken from Borges the love of labyrinths, and added to these two elements the eternal quest for a poet that is very much his signature. It is precisely because the last element has as yet not reached maturity in Monsieur Pain, that we might get away by saying that it is, in fact, a lower Bolano.
In the worldly sense, Monsieur Pain is a failure, simply because it pretends - or rather it has to pretend - to be a novel. First time Bolano readers may even be expected to hurl it toward the nearby wall.
But Bolano's work relies, not just for its comprehensiveness, but also for its comprehension, on the entire body of the work, and also on Bolano's life itself. Bolano is not the kind of writer you can read one book of and form an opinion. In fact, to form a decent opinion about any single book, a lot more Bolano has to be read. I myself am becoming a better Bolano reader, book after book.
The best online review is on The Quarterly Conversation where Stephen Henighan does the good task of pinning this novel(?) to the usual Bolano theme of resuscitating or finding exiled or lost poets. If Monsieur Pain is not your first Bolano, and you still feel cheated by it, Henighan's interpretation will provide some solace. Through the mention of a poem by the Peruvian poet Cesar Vallejo, who is a character in the novel (one whom we never meet) Henighan articulates, for the Bolano reader, a raison d'etre for this book. Vallejo was a persecuted poet, who lived his last days in late 30's Paris, and even imagined a death in the city, where he was distanced from the Civil War in Spain - a political event about which he had, presumably, strong feelings. Contrast this with Bolano's own situation in the early Seventies. As a young man, Bolano had himself felt the urge to participate in the political events of his native country Chile (google the overthrow of the Socialist Allende government in the coup d'etat in 1973, perpetrated by the CIA), events from which he was distanced because of being in Mexico City. That Bolano did eventually land up in Chile and was arrested and was (or was not, no one knows the truth) tortured may be beside the point. The point is: In 1981-82, a thirty year old Bolano, situated in Europe, might have taken the time to see a tenuous connection between his life and Vallejo's.
But Bolano the writer is never clear or unambiguous, just as Bolano the man was never so himself. The angst that pushed Bolano to Chile abated, and threw him back to Mexico City. His political confusion merged with the post '68 confusion of Mexican avant-garde poetry. Note also that while Vallejo's persecution was political - he was a Communist - Bolano's persecution was personal more than anything else, in part because he was a poet without a cause, for whom politics was nothing more than another vain attempt to find that cause. What resulted was the vagabondism that is the center of 'The Savage Detectives,' and the slow gaining of that quality of literary vagabondism that beautifies all of Bolano's work - a healthy distaste, almost one borne out of incomprehension, of objective reality; a severance from the world and its ideas; the a hollowness of the anti-ideology; and the search of an aesthetic for a literature that might have nothing to say.
It is in this light that an analysis can veer toward the question of Bolano's precursors. Disregarding chronology, if one is willing to move forward in time, one can locate some similarities between Monsieur Pain and 'The New Life' by Orhan Pamuk. The Turkish master's novel was written a decade after Bolano wrote Pain, and was judged, by some critics, to be the kind of novel Borges might have deigned to write. (Some critics have called Monsieur Pain an inferior version of Paul Auster's post-modern metaphysical mysteries. I personally feel that the comparison with Auster is not as apt as the one with the Pamuk of 'The New Life.' Whereas Auster is trying to create a metaphysical aesthetic of noir, the strong political subtext of Pamuk's and Bolano's creations, and an added layer of poetry in the latter's, brings the two closer together, and also distances them from Auster). One could consider Borges to be as much a precursor to Bolano as well, and certainly a guiding light to reading this labyrinthine first novel by Bolano. One only needs to know that while the conundrums in Borges were due especially to the clarity of his vision, Bolano's conundrums are of an inferior kind: he himself doesn't know where he wants to take us.
In all his work, Bolano has taken from his life a political confusion, taken from Borges the love of labyrinths, and added to these two elements the eternal quest for a poet that is very much his signature. It is precisely because the last element has as yet not reached maturity in Monsieur Pain, that we might get away by saying that it is, in fact, a lower Bolano.
April 19, 2011
Mr. Bolaño truly is the most productive of dead writers. Almost a decade in the sod and still churning out work hither and thither. The Insufferable Gaucho is due for UK release this year, and The Third Reich is slated for release next year in the US. The man’s unstoppable!
Monsieur Pain is his attempt at a novel in the genteel English vein: a work of straightforward historical fiction written in a hurried first-person with a tacked-on epilogue. It’s an atypical book in the Roberto canon, a “surrealistic attic” (says the New York Times) of brief scenes. Tension and mystery is the order of the day, with a dash of black humour.
It’s not of much interest to first-time Bolaño readers, as it doesn’t break much ground or sweep the reader up with a broom of cleverness. But it isn’t bad for a dead guy.
Monsieur Pain is his attempt at a novel in the genteel English vein: a work of straightforward historical fiction written in a hurried first-person with a tacked-on epilogue. It’s an atypical book in the Roberto canon, a “surrealistic attic” (says the New York Times) of brief scenes. Tension and mystery is the order of the day, with a dash of black humour.
It’s not of much interest to first-time Bolaño readers, as it doesn’t break much ground or sweep the reader up with a broom of cleverness. But it isn’t bad for a dead guy.
February 18, 2025
La novela es la segunda del escritor, y la primera como único autor: en 1984 se publicó por primera vez con el título La Senda de los elefantes, mientras en 1999 la editorial Anagrama lo relanzó con el título actual Monsieur Pain.
El libro ha sido dedicado a Carolina López, la esposa de Roberto Bolaño. Es una novela corta. Fue dividida en pequeñas secciones donde hay un amplio uso del diálogo; la versión publicada por la editorial española Anagama está precedida por una nota preliminar del escritor chileno que explica la breve historia del libro; su participación en los concursos provinciales españoles; y la variedad de casos narrados sobre el libro mismo como por ejemplo el hipo de Vallejo y la indiferencia de sus médicos.
El libro ha sido dedicado a Carolina López, la esposa de Roberto Bolaño. Es una novela corta. Fue dividida en pequeñas secciones donde hay un amplio uso del diálogo; la versión publicada por la editorial española Anagama está precedida por una nota preliminar del escritor chileno que explica la breve historia del libro; su participación en los concursos provinciales españoles; y la variedad de casos narrados sobre el libro mismo como por ejemplo el hipo de Vallejo y la indiferencia de sus médicos.
April 20, 2018
valla bolano'nun ödül almak için yazdığından mı benim anlamadığımdan mı bilmem en beğenmediğim kitabı oldu diyebilirim.
evet, savaş tedirginliği, huzursuzluk, tekinsizlik genel olarak sinmiş romana ama birbiriyle bağını anlayamadığım bir sürü kişi, hiçbir yere bağlanmayan edgar allen poe'msu olaylar...
ölen karakterin gerçekten genç yaşta ölen perulu şair olması gibi oyunları sevdiğini biliyoruz zaten bolano'nun ama genel olarak çok kopuk geldi bana roman.
en çok sondaki bölümü sevdim diyebilirim.
evet, savaş tedirginliği, huzursuzluk, tekinsizlik genel olarak sinmiş romana ama birbiriyle bağını anlayamadığım bir sürü kişi, hiçbir yere bağlanmayan edgar allen poe'msu olaylar...
ölen karakterin gerçekten genç yaşta ölen perulu şair olması gibi oyunları sevdiğini biliyoruz zaten bolano'nun ama genel olarak çok kopuk geldi bana roman.
en çok sondaki bölümü sevdim diyebilirim.
July 8, 2019
داستان بامزه اى نبود. داستانى نبود كه بشه با حواسپرتى خوند، شايدم بود چون تماماًسرشار از ماليخولياى يك آدم بود كه توى علوم غريبه غرق شده. با اين وجود شوك هاى باحال وملايمى جاى جاى داستان به من وارد شد كه ازشون لذت بردم. نويسنده ش فرانسوى زبان هم نبود اما براى من جالب بود كه تونسته بود فضاى كليشه اى پاريس رو به راحتى به تصوير دربياره.
از همه بيشتر مجذوب دوتا برادر دوقلو شدم كه توى آكواريم صحنه هاى جنگى ميساختن.
از همه بيشتر مجذوب دوتا برادر دوقلو شدم كه توى آكواريم صحنه هاى جنگى ميساختن.
June 18, 2013
I've been meaning to read some Bolano for the past two years but the books I bought are massive tomes. When this slight and intriguing number appeared in my bookshop I found myself compelled to read it. If I had more free time this would most certainly have been a one sitting read and I think it almost requires that level of attention to get the most out of it. The set up is strong with a protagonist you'll be more than happy to take a slightly surreal journey with whilst the descriptive passages owe as much to Fellini as Borges in their dreamlike nature. I just couldn't help but feel that it was an average at best exploration of ideas and it's almost certainly not going to feature in a best of Bolano list. He was a fledgling author when he wrote this and I appreciate his roots but if this is representative of his large body of work I'll be very surprised and wonder just what all those literary hipsters have been smoking.
October 18, 2015
There are some instances where great geniuses can go awry. When they are so invested in writing like themselves that they form a loose parody of lucid prose which in the end only leaves a bad taste. While I did enjoy Monsieur Pain for the first third or so, I must admit that the entire novel does fall apart. It doesn’t even read like Bolaño. It’s a pity. I don’t hate it however. I… just don’t love it.
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November 8, 20192019 yılı benim için çok gelgitli, garip bir yıl oldu, hem de Bolano'yla tanıştım. Tüm abuk subuk yaşantılarıma eşlik etti, kitap okumaktan bile neredeyse sıkılacakken yanıma gelip soluk bakan gözlerinden birini kırptı: ''Güzel şeyler de var.'' dedi, ''Mesela yazdıklarımı okumak.''
Şımarık diye düşündüm içimden, ama hakkı var. İyi ki var.
Şımarık diye düşündüm içimden, ama hakkı var. İyi ki var.
November 12, 2024
bolaño heads say this is some of his worst work and i can in fact confirm that it was arrestingly boring and an ill attempt at noir <3
August 29, 2020
Monsieur Pain, un náufrago que vive para una causa en la que no cree, rodeado por un halo conspirativo inaprehensible como los sueños; la culpa y los sueños, en la historia paralela de la película, que se imbrica con la historia central. Bueno, y como siempre, desolador.
August 16, 2019
عجیبه واسم انتشارات نیو دایرکشن رو چه حساب این کتابو بهترین کار اون سالش معرفی کرده
واقعا هیچ حرفی واسه گفتن نداشت
شما بخونید و نظرتونو بگید :////
واقعا هیچ حرفی واسه گفتن نداشت
شما بخونید و نظرتونو بگید :////
November 3, 2025
3.5. Splashes in here of Poe... Kafka... Murakami... Accessible by Bolaño's standards, this extraordinarily atmosphere novel of Paris's dark side is probably best for completists. It's got lots of great characters and a deeply noirish style, but also feels a little unfinished.
February 20, 2020
Termino de leer la novela y la primera pregunta que surge apunta a la pretensión del autor. ¿Qué nos han querido contar, querido mío?, me pregunto --suelo interpelarme de ese modo cariñoso por prescripción médica y hace mucho bien, créame--, y pasan los días sin encontrar una respuesta adecuada. Yo desearía tener disponible un análisis claro de lo que he leído, pero, en cambio, no poseo más que un puñado de desordenadas impresiones.
El protagonista, Pierre Pain, hace las veces de narrador. Sus vivencias, que arrancan con la misteriosa enfermedad que terminó matando al poeta César Vallejo, son el meollo de una extraña trama en la que se mezclan conspiraciones, mesmerismo, enigmáticas parejas de extranjeros, sueños y formidables borracheras que enturbian aún más la visión del conjunto.
El libro tiene un aire noir, con ese París de duermevela y el misterio de turbios sucesos cuya explicación, en última instancia, quedará en suspenso. Porque lo que nos encontramos al finalizar la lectura no es algo parecido a una solución, no es algo a lo que podamos llamar un punto final resolutivo, sino una confusa resaca; así que, si usted es de aquellas personas que se cogen un enfado injustificado cuando las cosas no cuadran, cuando no quedan perfectamente aclaradas y siente que ha perdido un valioso tiempo con la lectura de una obra que ha tenido el atrevimiento de no caer en el siempre artificioso final donde el conjunto de preguntas acumuladas durante la lectura son respondidas y se produce un fenómeno de iluminación retrospectiva, lo va a pasar mal. Las cosas no son así en el mundo real, salvo en los gabinetes psicoanalíticos o en algunas aterradoras disciplinas espirituales o en mentes alérgicas al misterio que tienen una extraordinaria facilidad para encontrar explicación a todo.
La novela tiene una cualidad ambiental, como la música clásica o el impresionismo pictórico. Deja en el lector una marca difusa, indescriptible, abstracta si se quiere, a la manera de los sueños; un brochazo sensitivo. Es la misma sensación que se tiene al despertar de un determinado sueño que pronto se olvidará. Por eso resulta tan difícil decir algo de ella. Igual de difícil que relatar una noche de abuso alcohólico en todos sus detalles. Lo pasé bien, pero no recuerdo ni sabría decir por qué.
La novela no es del Bolaño que deslumbró a muchos con sus posteriores capolavoros. La escribe un Bolaño desconocido que presenta manuscritos a premios provincianos buscando un sitio en el panorama literario. A la bisoñez del autor podríamos achacar la presencia de diálogos demasiado explicativos que restan verosimilitud a la escena, de personajes y situaciones que abusan del estereotipo y de una general falta de esfuerzo narrativo, como si la historia hubiera cansado al autor a medio camino de su confección. Pese a ello, he disfrutado moderadamente del misterio y la atmósfera que propone el señor Bolaño, feliz de poder acabar la historia sin todas las dudas resueltas, quedando así espacio suficiente para insertar especulaciones personales nacidas al calor de lo leído.
El protagonista, Pierre Pain, hace las veces de narrador. Sus vivencias, que arrancan con la misteriosa enfermedad que terminó matando al poeta César Vallejo, son el meollo de una extraña trama en la que se mezclan conspiraciones, mesmerismo, enigmáticas parejas de extranjeros, sueños y formidables borracheras que enturbian aún más la visión del conjunto.
El libro tiene un aire noir, con ese París de duermevela y el misterio de turbios sucesos cuya explicación, en última instancia, quedará en suspenso. Porque lo que nos encontramos al finalizar la lectura no es algo parecido a una solución, no es algo a lo que podamos llamar un punto final resolutivo, sino una confusa resaca; así que, si usted es de aquellas personas que se cogen un enfado injustificado cuando las cosas no cuadran, cuando no quedan perfectamente aclaradas y siente que ha perdido un valioso tiempo con la lectura de una obra que ha tenido el atrevimiento de no caer en el siempre artificioso final donde el conjunto de preguntas acumuladas durante la lectura son respondidas y se produce un fenómeno de iluminación retrospectiva, lo va a pasar mal. Las cosas no son así en el mundo real, salvo en los gabinetes psicoanalíticos o en algunas aterradoras disciplinas espirituales o en mentes alérgicas al misterio que tienen una extraordinaria facilidad para encontrar explicación a todo.
La novela tiene una cualidad ambiental, como la música clásica o el impresionismo pictórico. Deja en el lector una marca difusa, indescriptible, abstracta si se quiere, a la manera de los sueños; un brochazo sensitivo. Es la misma sensación que se tiene al despertar de un determinado sueño que pronto se olvidará. Por eso resulta tan difícil decir algo de ella. Igual de difícil que relatar una noche de abuso alcohólico en todos sus detalles. Lo pasé bien, pero no recuerdo ni sabría decir por qué.
La novela no es del Bolaño que deslumbró a muchos con sus posteriores capolavoros. La escribe un Bolaño desconocido que presenta manuscritos a premios provincianos buscando un sitio en el panorama literario. A la bisoñez del autor podríamos achacar la presencia de diálogos demasiado explicativos que restan verosimilitud a la escena, de personajes y situaciones que abusan del estereotipo y de una general falta de esfuerzo narrativo, como si la historia hubiera cansado al autor a medio camino de su confección. Pese a ello, he disfrutado moderadamente del misterio y la atmósfera que propone el señor Bolaño, feliz de poder acabar la historia sin todas las dudas resueltas, quedando así espacio suficiente para insertar especulaciones personales nacidas al calor de lo leído.
December 27, 2020
Vahşi Hafiyeler ve 2666'yı çok severim, bence son elli yılda yazılmış en büyük romanlardandır ikisi de. Doğal olarak Bolano'yu da severim. Ama Bolano'nun kısa romanlarını pek sevmedim, sevemedim. Bolano'nun büyüklüğünün ancak büyük anlatılarda anlaşılabileceğini düşünüyorum.
Bolano'nun kısa romanlarında büyük romanlarından izler görebiliyoruz, evet; ama büyük romanlarını okumayan biri, Bolano'nun kısa romanlarını tek başına değerlendirdiğinde onun görkemini çok da anlayamayacaktır. Zaten Bolano'nun kendisi de, yanlış hatırlamıyorsam Vahşi Hafiyeler'de (çok da emin değilim) bir karakterine "Büyük yazarların büyük kitapları dururken, o yazarın elini alıştırmak veya küçük denemeler yapmak için yazdığı küçük kitaplarına hayranlık besleyen okurları anlamıyorun," minvalinde bir şeyler dedirtiyordu, kesinlikle katılıyorum.
Bunun kötü bir roman olduğunu düşünmüyorum, Avrupa'nın faşizme kayışını, o irrasyonel dünyayı yarı Kafkaesk yarı gerçeküstücü bir biçimde, Kırmızı Pazartesi'yi andıran bir hikâyeyle güzel de anlatmış, ama burada hem yeni bir şey yok, hem de Bolano'nun dehası bundan büyük, oysa bunun gibi çok roman var. Elbette bu yollardan geçmeyen bir yazar 2666'yı da yazamıyor, işin bu boyutu da var.
Birkaç saatte okunacak bir eser Mösyö Pain, kolayca okunabilir Bolano'ya tutkunuz varsa. Ama okuyanda iz bırakacağını hiç zannetmiyorum, zira Bolano'nun diğer kısa romanları gün geçtikçe siliniyor hafızamdan, öyle ki bazılarını artık hatırlamıyorum bile, ki okuyalı iki yıl oldu olacak; bu roman da kanımca öyle olacak, bitireli birkaç saat olduğu hâlde şimdiden bir sürü şeyi unuttum bile. Gerçi bu kadar laf bir yerde boşa, Bolano zehrini bir kere alan okuyucu Bolano'nun elinden çıkma ne varsa onu da okuyacaktır er geç.
Bolano'nun kısa romanlarında büyük romanlarından izler görebiliyoruz, evet; ama büyük romanlarını okumayan biri, Bolano'nun kısa romanlarını tek başına değerlendirdiğinde onun görkemini çok da anlayamayacaktır. Zaten Bolano'nun kendisi de, yanlış hatırlamıyorsam Vahşi Hafiyeler'de (çok da emin değilim) bir karakterine "Büyük yazarların büyük kitapları dururken, o yazarın elini alıştırmak veya küçük denemeler yapmak için yazdığı küçük kitaplarına hayranlık besleyen okurları anlamıyorun," minvalinde bir şeyler dedirtiyordu, kesinlikle katılıyorum.
Bunun kötü bir roman olduğunu düşünmüyorum, Avrupa'nın faşizme kayışını, o irrasyonel dünyayı yarı Kafkaesk yarı gerçeküstücü bir biçimde, Kırmızı Pazartesi'yi andıran bir hikâyeyle güzel de anlatmış, ama burada hem yeni bir şey yok, hem de Bolano'nun dehası bundan büyük, oysa bunun gibi çok roman var. Elbette bu yollardan geçmeyen bir yazar 2666'yı da yazamıyor, işin bu boyutu da var.
Birkaç saatte okunacak bir eser Mösyö Pain, kolayca okunabilir Bolano'ya tutkunuz varsa. Ama okuyanda iz bırakacağını hiç zannetmiyorum, zira Bolano'nun diğer kısa romanları gün geçtikçe siliniyor hafızamdan, öyle ki bazılarını artık hatırlamıyorum bile, ki okuyalı iki yıl oldu olacak; bu roman da kanımca öyle olacak, bitireli birkaç saat olduğu hâlde şimdiden bir sürü şeyi unuttum bile. Gerçi bu kadar laf bir yerde boşa, Bolano zehrini bir kere alan okuyucu Bolano'nun elinden çıkma ne varsa onu da okuyacaktır er geç.
August 8, 2013
It is 1938, Paris and Monsieur Pain, a noted mesmerizer is called by a friend, to the bedside of Vallejo, who is dying from the hiccups. Yes, I said hiccups. This is a mystery, why does Vallejo die or was he murdered?
He will become known in the future as the most famous of Latin America's poets. The Spanish civil war has ended, the Nazis soon to become very important and paranoia is a facet of life. This is one very veiled book, it is strange and I one time it reminded me of the TV show Fringe, or at least the parts of Fringe that included the watchers. There are men watching Pain, trying to keep him from treating Vallejo. Are they spies, loyal to Franco? That is part of the mystery.
This is not an easy book to read, I was tempted numerous times to just throw it at the wall and quit, yet at the same time it was addicting. Like a challenge, I was determined to figure out what this book meant, what Bolano is talking about. I think I manged to get there, for a very small book there is certainly much to ponder and will tackle the "Skating Pond" by Bolano next.
He will become known in the future as the most famous of Latin America's poets. The Spanish civil war has ended, the Nazis soon to become very important and paranoia is a facet of life. This is one very veiled book, it is strange and I one time it reminded me of the TV show Fringe, or at least the parts of Fringe that included the watchers. There are men watching Pain, trying to keep him from treating Vallejo. Are they spies, loyal to Franco? That is part of the mystery.
This is not an easy book to read, I was tempted numerous times to just throw it at the wall and quit, yet at the same time it was addicting. Like a challenge, I was determined to figure out what this book meant, what Bolano is talking about. I think I manged to get there, for a very small book there is certainly much to ponder and will tackle the "Skating Pond" by Bolano next.
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