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By Night in Chile

Roberto Bolaño,

Chris Andrews (Translator)

3.87 · Rating details · 7,583 ratings · 773 reviews

During the course of a single night, Father Sebastian Urrutia Lacroix, a Chilean priest, who is a member of Opus Dei, a literary critic and a mediocre poet, relives some of the crucial events of his life. He believes he is dying and in his feverish delirium various characters, both real and imaginary, appear to him as icy monsters.

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Paperback, 118 pages

Published December 1st 2005 by New Directions (first published November 2000)

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3.87 ·

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· 7,583 ratings · 773 reviews

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Mar 22, 2018 Jim Fonseca rated it really liked it

Shelves: chilean-authors, spanish-authors

Bolano gives us the stream of consciousness of a Jesuit priest reflecting on his life while he lies on his death bed in Chile. The priest was also a poet and a literary critic. Throughout his life he hung out with art-loving wealthy aristocrats. The priest even met the famous Chilean poet Neruda at a soiree and later attended his funeral. The aristocrat had his estate confiscated under Allende but then returned under Pinochet – and the priest is glad for him.

The priest also hangs out with a bea ...more

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Apr 21, 2015 s.penkevich rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: latin_american_lit, satire, memory, bolano

Sordel, Sordello, which Sordello?

‘Literature is like phosphorus,’ wrote Roland Barthes, ‘it shines with its maximum brilliance at the moment when it attempts to die.’ This view of literature existing at the precipice of the posthumous comes alive through Roberto Bolaño's Father Sebastian Urrutia and his deathbed confessions that make up the long night of By Night in Chile. Told in a single continuous paragraph—a style that hints with the flavor of Thomas Bernhard—Bolaño keeps the pressure and te ...more

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Jun 14, 2016 Algernon (Darth Anyan) rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: 2016

I am dying now, but I still have many things to say. I used to be at peace with myself. Quiet and at peace.
But it all blew up unexpectedly. That wizened youth is to blame. I was at peace.

The opening lines suggests this is a flashback sort of novel, a reinterpretation the past at the end of a long life and an appeal to the reader to hear the narrator's confession. His name is Sebastian Urrutia Lacroix, a Chilean of mixed Basque and French ancestry, a Jesuit priest, a poet, a literary critic, a ...more

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Aug 23, 2010 Mike Puma rated it it was amazing

Shelves: favorites, 2009, bolaño, new-directions-publishing, chilean-author, lit-fic, re-read, 2012

Reread. Re-5-starred. Reviewed, if ever so slightly.

But first, the obligatory digression.

Out, damned Scot! Out!—Lady Shakesbeth, wherever it was she said such things.

A fitful night’s recollections of a not quite literary life, a not quite political life, a not quite religious life—historically situated (Pinochet’s Chile), fantastically relived and recounted, sometimes at a meandering pace, other times at feverish pace, with belt-fondling, falconry, and pigeonshit. How postmodern can one get?

Abre

...more

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May 07, 2008 Daniel rated it it was amazing

Recommends it for: Everyone

Shelves: favorites

What I have come to appreciate reading Bolaño's book is the fact that he takes you on several small journeys getting you from plot-point to plot-point. You almost don't realize that he is doing it until you finish one of these tangents and get led carefully back to the main storyline. That Bolaño trusts his talents enough to introduce characters that are only there to make a single point, that they exist in the novel just to die or to cease to exist just so some small nuance of Chile, the Church What I have come to appreciate reading Bolaño's book is the fact that he takes you on several small journeys getting you from plot-point to plot-point. You almost don't realize that he is doing it until you finish one of these tangents and get led carefully back to the main storyline. That Bolaño trusts his talents enough to introduce characters that are only there to make a single point, that they exist in the novel just to die or to cease to exist just so some small nuance of Chile, the Church or his personal imagination can be revealed is truly something.

For instance, a "Guatemalan Painter" is introduced and given depth and perspective before being assigned his lonely fate which is to fade away to nothingness despite having great talent just so that the author can depict the grim experiences of displaced foreigners and to introduce Don Salvador Reyes to Ernst Jünger. He introduces Salvador Reyes and rounds him out as a character, portrays him as a man of principles and position, an erudite pillar of society. The meeting of the three men (the painter, Reyes and Jünger) only accomplishes one single thing, a book translated in French is passed from Reyes to Jünger providing the context for the only mention in the history of World War II of a Chilean ever taking part in the greatest conflict known to man.

As if to say, one of us took part in this great endeavor, and although nothing of the man exists or of the painter who made possible the acquaintance with the German officer and writer, but one of us was there and here is the proof (Ernst Jünger who documents the existence of our participant). And displaced and erased we may be in this gigantic, Western history, at least ONE of us was there. One Chilean. One man. One proof. And without further explanation, the whole tale falls under the title "Landscape: Mexico City an hour before dawn" as painted by an unnamed Guatemalan artist. It is a poem, not a story.

Bolaño does this to you again and again with such a light touch in these side-stories hidden among what is actually happening. And if you focus too closely on what is more obviously happening to Urrutia Lacroix as he becomes party to Mr. Fear and Mr. Hate, to the falconers and their destruction of spirit, to the Marxists he teaches and disowns, to the suppressed homosexuality of Farewell and the more literary circles, to the duality of his roles as liberal writer and conservative critic, and the old man denouncing and finally ceasing to renounce his wizened youth only at the end, etc.

If you look at only these more blatant metaphors you will miss the really fine morsels hidden in the tedious little filler pages, poetry masquerading as fluff, revelation in the side-notes.
...more

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Mar 11, 2017 Tijana added it · review of another edition

Elem: Čile noću (a zašto su imali potrebu da tako prevedu naslov Čileanski nokturno - ne znam) je prva Bolanjova knjiga dovoljno pregledna da radnju mogu da sažmem u dve rečenice. Jer je zapravo novela. Ili da možda probam da je sažmem u jednu rečenicu: teško je i ponekad sramotno biti književni kritičar prosečne ljudske hrabrosti (male) za vreme Pinočeove diktature. A inače, ovo ima sve tipične odlike Bolanja: fenomenalno je napisano, tempom koji kida, besprekorno meša stvarno i izmišljeno (mal ...more

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Jan 28, 2012 MJ Nicholls marked it as dropped · review of another edition

Oh shut up, Roberto. SHUT. UP. What is this cobblers? Why do you want me to read the rambling deathbed memoir of a Chilean priest who can’t let a sentence end and couldn’t find a paragraph break in a tower of cassocks? Why don’t you establish this character as an actual character? Why did you write a list of scenes or incidents that might be used in future novels instead of, to quote The Guardian—“a beautifully written analysis of Chilean literary life?” It gives me no pleasure to play devil’s a ...more

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Jul 23, 2012 Kris rated it it was amazing

Shelves: chile, fiction, latin-america, five-stars

In Bolaño's stream of consciousness narrative, he presents the deathbed confessions of Father Sebastián Urrutia Lacroix, a Jesuit in Chile who also wrote as a literary critic and a poet. Through a spellbinding combination of feverish memories and anecdotes, dreams and nightmares recalled, and desperate justifications of past actions and inaction, Father Sebastián leads the reader through an evocative and disturbing picture of life and art in Pinochet's Chile. I found the novel mesmerizing. In on ...more

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Jun 16, 2012 Fabian rated it liked it

With confidence & style, Bolano continues his attempt at crystallizing the exploits of the literati in Latin America—here more specifically, in Chile. In very little (this is a novel composed solely of TWO paragraphs!) the stream of consciousness vacillates between various moods and anecdotes—it is indeed very similar to the transcendental musings of Auxilio Lacouture atop her fortress of the UNAM in “Amulet”, a novel that is far superior, w-a-a-a-y more magical, than this one.

At times the C ...more

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Feb 27, 2018 Dimitri rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Vecchio e malato, padre Sebastian Urrutia Lacroix, critico letterario, scrittore, membro dell’Opus Dei, compromessosi ma non troppo con il regime di Pinochet, deve difendere la propria reputazione, ora che è tornata la democrazia, dagli attacchi di un misterioso giovane invecchiato. “Cerchiamo di essere persone civili.” Ricorda così in modo più o meno attendibile momenti della sua vita, pescando dai “pozzi neri della memoria”, con lo scopo forse di ottenere una assoluzione e anche una autoassolu Vecchio e malato, padre Sebastian Urrutia Lacroix, critico letterario, scrittore, membro dell’Opus Dei, compromessosi ma non troppo con il regime di Pinochet, deve difendere la propria reputazione, ora che è tornata la democrazia, dagli attacchi di un misterioso giovane invecchiato. “Cerchiamo di essere persone civili.” Ricorda così in modo più o meno attendibile momenti della sua vita, pescando dai “pozzi neri della memoria”, con lo scopo forse di ottenere una assoluzione e anche una autoassoluzione. Padre Sebastian ha conosciuto Neruda; ha recitato poesie al chiaro di luna a un insospettabile scrittore; si era perfino chiuso in casa a leggere i greci, mentre fuori gli eventi precipitavano. “Poi ci fu il colpo di Stato e quando smisero di bombardare il presidente si suicidò e tutto finì. Allora io rimasi immobile, con un dito sulla pagina che stavo leggendo, e pensai: che pace. Mi alzai e mi affacciai alla finestra: che silenzio.”
“Silenzio” e “tacere” sono parole che si ripresentano spesso in queste 120 pagine. Nessuna scena di violenza viene descritta. C’è però l’immagine potente e ricorrente dei falchi usati dai preti per tenere i piccioni alla larga dalle chiese. “Tolsi il cappuccio al falco e gli dissi vola, Rodrigo, e proprio allora prese a soffiare un vento come d’uragano e la mia tonaca si sollevò come una bandiera piena di furia, e ricordo che gridai di nuovo vola, Rodrigo, e poi sentii un volo plurale e malsano, e le falde della tonaca mi coprirono gli occhi mentre il vento spazzava la chiesa e tutt’intorno, e quando riuscii a togliermi dalla faccia il mio personale cappuccio scorsi sagome informi per terra, i piccoli corpi insanguinati di vari piccioni che il falco aveva depositato ai miei piedi.”
Oppure la violenza aleggia minacciosa, proprio come un falco, grazie a una apparentemente innocua domanda, posta da un generale a una riunione di militari, a proposito di una presunta spia comunista. “E’ una bella ragazza?”
Oppure la violenza rimane nascosta nel seminterrato di una villa elegante nei sobborghi di Santiago, mentre al piano di sopra critici e scrittori – compreso il nostro “eroe” – partecipano a una festa. E se uno degli invitati, ubriaco, si perde tra le mille stanze e apre una porta che non doveva aprire e vede qualcosa che non doveva vedere, che cosa fa?
Con senso della misura, immagini potenti, situazioni e parole che si rincorrono, e con forti dosi di ironia soprattutto nei dialoghi (quello tra padre Sebastian e Pinochet è un pezzo di bravura), Bolano esplora la coscienza di padre Sebastian e la coscienza collettiva di una nazione. E non solo di quella nazione.
La letteratura non si occupa solo di eroi. Un bel giorno padre Sebastian fa una domanda alla donna che abita in quella villa elegante nei sobborghi di Santiago. “E si è pentita? Come tutti, padre. Sentii che mi mancava l’aria. Poi si guardò intorno tranquilla, serena, a suo modo coraggiosa, e vide la sua casa, e disse che è così che si faceva letteratura in Cile.” ...more

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Dec 23, 2011 Jonfaith rated it really liked it

There are a pair of immediate observations concerning By Night in Chile. The first involvees its lyrical quality; this is more a cycle of poems than mere standard novella. Episodes unfold and the focus clips along back to the Narrator, who isn't as unreliable as I first guessed. The second acute sense from the book is one of dread. There are a number of darkened hallways, closed doors, and isolated hilltops in the book. One gathers gradually that it isn't sage to look around too closely.

Confinin ...more

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Sep 05, 2017 Pegah rated it really liked it · review of another edition

روبرتو بولانیو سال ۱۹۵۳ در سانتیاگوِ شیلی متولد شد و سال ۲۰۰۳ در پنجاه سالگی بر اثر نارسایی کبد در اسپانیا از دنیا رفت. پدرش راننده ی کامیون و مشت زن و مادرش معلم مدرسه بود. در نوجوانی مدرسه را ترک کرد، چون می خواست فقط کتاب بخواند، کتاب هایی که خیلی شان را از کتابفروشی ها می دزدید. او که در پانزده سالگی همراه خانواده اش شیلی را ترک کرد، در بیست سالگی، همزمان با کودتای پینوشه، به این کشور بازگشت. به گفته ی خودش در این سفر دستگیر شد و چند روزی در زندان ماند، و به طور اتفاقی توسط دو دوست قدیمی آزا روبرتو بولانیو سال ۱۹۵۳ در سانتیاگوِ شیلی متولد شد و سال ۲۰۰۳ در پنجاه سالگی بر اثر نارسایی کبد در اسپانیا از دنیا رفت. پدرش راننده ی کامیون و مشت زن و مادرش معلم مدرسه بود. در نوجوانی مدرسه را ترک کرد، چون می خواست فقط کتاب بخواند، کتاب هایی که خیلی شان را از کتابفروشی ها می دزدید. او که در پانزده سالگی همراه خانواده اش شیلی را ترک کرد، در بیست سالگی، همزمان با کودتای پینوشه، به این کشور بازگشت. به گفته ی خودش در این سفر دستگیر شد و چند روزی در زندان ماند، و به طور اتفاقی توسط دو دوست قدیمی آزاد شد؛ که البته در واقعیتِ این روایت تردید است. پس از ترک شیلی باقی عمرش را در کشورهای مختلف زندگی کرد و برای درآوردن خرج زندگی به هر کاری، مثل نگهبانی و ظرف شستن، دست زد. او در اصل خودش را شاعر می دانست و زمانی که بچه دار شد، چون فکر کرد از راه نثرنویسی بهتر می تواند پول دربیاورد، شروع کرد به داستان نوشتن و فرستادن شان برای مسابقات و مجله ها. و هم این داستان ها او را تبدیل کرد به مهم ترین نویسنده ی نسل خودش در آمریکای لاتین، که جوایز متعددی را به خصوص بعد از مرگ نصیبش کرد، نویسنده ای که امروزه عده ای اهمیتش را نه فقط برای ادبیات امریکای لاتین، که حتا برای ادبیات جهان هم پای اهمیت کابریل گارسیا مارکز می دانند. این خود پارادوکس عجیبی است برای بولانیوِ سرکشی که اغلب نویسندگان بسیار مشهوری چون مارکز و آلنده و پاز را به مسخره می گرفت و حتا گروهی تشکیل داده بود که جلسات شعرخوانی آن ها را به هم بریزد.
او بورخس را محبوب ترین نویسنده ی خود می داند و معتقد است نویسنده‌ها دوجورند: آن‌هایی که فقط نویسندگان مقلد به وجود می‌آورند و آن‌ها که راه را برای کاشفان و تجربیات تازه باز می‌کنند. خودش بورخس را در دسته‌ی دوم قرار می‌دهد و البته باید خودش را هم در همین دسته‌ی دوم قرار داد.

________
بولانیو در کتاب شبانه‌ی شیلی در قالب کشیشی که به ادبیات علاقه دارد و با اسم مستعار به نقد آثار ادبی زمان می‌پردازد، از اوضاع نا به‌ سامان کشور و جنگ می‌گوید. از نویسندگان بزرگ شیلیایی یاد می‌کند که دیگر هیچ کس به خاطرشان نمی‌آورد. از رئیس‌جمهورهای بی‌سواد شیلی یاد می‌کند که یکیشان هیچ نخوانده بود حتی انجیل را ( و از قضا یکی از موسسان حذب دموکرات مسیحی بوده!) و دیگری که فقط رمان‌های عاشقانه می‌خوانده! کشیش از تجربیات حضورش در خانه‌ای می‌گوید که میزبان محافل ادبی شبانه‌ بود در حالی که در همان زمان در سرداب خانه از زندانیان بازجویی انجام می‌شده و گاهاً برخی کشته می‌شدند. در وصف زن میزبان، ماریا کانالس، در انتقاد به افراد روشن‌فکرنمای زمان می‌نویسد:

دوست‌دار هنر بود. دوست داشت همدم نقاشان، پرفورمنس‌آرت‌ کاران و ویدئوآرت‌ کاران شود، شاید چون سوادشان کمتر از نویسندگان بود یا او اینطور می‌دید. بعد قاتی نویسنده‌ها شد و دید آن‌ها هم چندان باسواد نیستند. کی‌ می‌داند چقدر خیالش آسوده شد. آسودگی‌ای خاص شیلیایی‌ها. از ما مردمِ این کشور خدازده انگشت‌شماری واقعاٌ بافرهنگیم، بقیه از دم ابله‌اند. حتی آدم‌های خوش‌مشرب و دوست‌داشتنی.

بولانیو کشیش و شاعر شیلیایی‌ای را روبه روی ما نشانده است که زیر بار تمام این آشوب ها روحیه ی خود را از دست داده و شعرهایی که می سروده، از کلاسیک و آپولویی دچار حس و حالی افسارگسیخته و دیونی سیایی می شود و دست به نوشتن مقاله های انتقادی می زند و از
عجز، ترس، اراده مضحک و کسالت بی حدواندازه ی مردم شیلیایی می نویسد که به گفته ی خودش انگار داشت در بیابانی داد می زد و تنها کسانی فریادها و گاه زوزه هایش را می شنیدند که معنای نوشته هایش را می فهمیدند و چنان کسانی زیاد نبودند.

بولانیو شیلی را در آن دوران به درخت ارغوان یا همان درخت یهودا تشبیه می‌کند. "درختی بی برگ و مرده‌گون که ریشه در اعماقِ خاکِ سیاه داشت، خاکِ سیاهِ غنیِ ما که کرم‌خاکی‌های چهل سانتی‌متری‌اش شهرتی دارند."

کشیش، شاعر و منتقد بزرگِ ما در سراسر داستان توهماتی از دیدن یک جوانک تکیده دارد. جوانک تکیده‌ای که به او می‌خندد، نزدیک می‌شود، نسبت به او ناباور است و درنهایت دور می‌شود و در سطرهای پایانی بولانیو به ما می‌گوید که جوانک تکیده خود او است، سباستیان ئورروتیا لاکروآ، کشیش، شاعر و منتقد بزرگ شیلیایی.

"از خودم می‌پرسم جوانک تکیده کجا است؟ چرا رفت؟ آرام آرام حقیقت به سانِ جسدِ مرده‌ای پدیدار می‌شود. جسدِ مرده ای که از ته دریا یا کف مجرای آب بالا می آید. سایه اش را می بینم که بالا می آید. سایه اش سوسو می زند. سایه اش جوری بالا می آید که انگار از تپه ای بر سیاره ای فسیلی بالا می کشد. بعد در تاریک روشن بیماری ام چهره ی تندخو و لطیف اش را می بینم و از خودم می پرسم: من جوانک تکیده ام؟ ترسی شدید دامن گیرم می شود و میپرسم من همان جوانک تکیده ام که فریادهاش به گوش احدی نمی رسد؟ آن جوانک تکیده‌ی بدبخت منم؟ بعد چهره ها با سرعتی دورانی از برابر چشمهام می‌گذرد. چهره‌ی آن‌ها که ستایش‌شان کرده‌ام، دوست‌شان داشته‌ام، ازشان بیزار بوده‌ام، بهشان رشک برده‌ام و خوارشان شمرده‌ام. چهره‌هایی که ازشان حمایت کرده‌ام، بهشان حمله کرده‌ام، خودم را در برابرشان مقاوم کرده‌ام و بیهوده پی‌شان بوده‌ام.
بعد توفانِ گُه آغاز می‌شود." ...more

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Feb 25, 2016 Nora Barnacle rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Ova knjiga je sjajan izbor, makar za nekoga ko je, kao ja, o čileanskim prilikama znao zanemarljivo malo. Kako bilo, ova je knjiga na mene ostavila prilično jak utisak na razne teme.

Čitala sam "Lagunino" izdanje u, rekla bih, veoma dobrom prevodu Igora Marojevića (toliko dobrom da sam uspela da zaboravim sasvim nesretno rešenu recenziju na koricama knjige - zbog čega za malo da je zaobiđem, jer me takvi sadržaji ne interesuju, nenavođenje jezika sa kog je Marojević prevodio - zbog čega sam moral

Ova knjiga je sjajan izbor, makar za nekoga ko je, kao ja, o čileanskim prilikama znao zanemarljivo malo. Kako bilo, ova je knjiga na mene ostavila prilično jak utisak na razne teme.

Čitala sam "Lagunino" izdanje u, rekla bih, veoma dobrom prevodu Igora Marojevića (toliko dobrom da sam uspela da zaboravim sasvim nesretno rešenu recenziju na koricama knjige - zbog čega za malo da je zaobiđem, jer me takvi sadržaji ne interesuju, nenavođenje jezika sa kog je Marojević prevodio - zbog čega sam morala da istražujem je li to onaj Marojević za koga znam da barata (i) katalonskim i tako redom, shodno standardima pojedinih izdavača).

Ispostavilo se da je pametnije što sam odabrala to nego hrvatsku verziju sa, na prvi pogled, poetičnijim naslovom "Čileanski nokturno", upravo zbog prevoda, budući da je za adekvatno razumevanje Bolanja (makar ove knjige) neophodna prevodilačka veština dostojna talentu ovog pisca. Razlika između srpskog i hrvatskog rešavanja istog problema je taman kolika i između noći i nokturna iz naslova, pre početka, da bi se održala, izgleda, do kraja koji je kod Marojevića "oluja govana", a kod komšinice "strašno nevrijeme".

Čile noću je soba puna ogledala iz koje sam ja izabrala ono koje se odnosi na književnost i uslove pod kojima ona nastaje u Čileu (a, valjda, i na drugim mestima koja su bila osuđena na komunizam, diktaturu, klerofašizam, marksizam i druga crnila istorijskog valera). U tom smislu, Pinočea sam doživela kao scenografski dekor, zajedno sa Alejndeom, i više se bavila pitanjem da li je ostareli mladić koji fantazmagorično progoni pripovedača Ernst Jinger i pod kojim okolnostima se tu upliće baš koji Sordelo jer ima osnova da se aludira na Dantea, Oskara Vajlda, a i sam Sordelo nije zanemarljiva pojava.

Knjiga je stilski maestralna: napisana u jednom paragrafu, kao ispovest čoveka u groznici od koje ni čitalac ne može da se spase. Pregnantnije nego u najuspelijim Saramagovim trudovima za ignorisanje interpunkcije, na stotinka strana ovde je, kako neko lepo reče, postignuto crnilo Gojinog mraka u kome ono što najsjajnije blješti nije tema. Zaista ne znam kako je to sve tu stalo: nebo krvavo od golubova koje kolju sokolovi, austrougarski car i obućar, diskrecija (stilska, ne jezička) kojom se govori o gej nazorima pa i pedofiliji, Nerudina sahrana, gvatemalski slikar koji vidi Meksiko siti kroz pariski prozor, književne kritike, mediokritetska književnost, sorei u vilama, Tukidid, Opus Dei, mučenja u podrumima…a nije Sorokin, na primer.

Roberta Bolanja smatram vrlo ozbiljnim piscem, uprkos činjenici da inače zazirem od manjka formalnog obrazovanja (pa odozgo i disleksije), hipi fazona, komunističkih agitacija, nevaspitanih protestvovanja protiv autoriteta i izmišljanja novih reči i stilova po svaku cenu. Sudeći po ovoj jednoj knjizi, da dovoljno je on veliki da izađe Markesu na crtu i da kaže da realizam treba da bude produbljen, dakle, infra, a ne nakićen nekakvom magijom.

Iako gotovo nikada ne čitam istu knjigu dva puta, ova će se naći na tom spisku, ali, paradoksalno, nisam sigurna da ću Bolanja čitati uskoro. Isto tako, sumnjam da ću ga preporučivati naširoko iako je Čile noću najupečatljivija knjiga koju sam pročitala u ovoj godini, a među prvih desetak najzanimljivijih meni poznatih.

Zanimljivo je i ovo: sudeći prema Bolanju, Neruda nije ubijen (sigurno bi on to rekao 2003.), to u prilog onom otkopavanju njegovog groba na koje čekamo poslednjih par godina. Ako je tu izneo istorijski tačnu informaciju, onda će se ipostavi i da se Aljende samoubio, a nije raznet. No, to me manje zanima.
...more

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Oct 04, 2016 Joaquín Jiménez rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: libros-que-tengo

"Chile, Chile. ¿Cómo has podido cambiar tanto?, le decía a veces, asomado a mi ventana abierta, mirando el reverbero de Santiago en la lejanía. ¿Qué te han hecho? ¿Se han vuelto locos los chilenos? ¿Quién tiene la culpa? Y otras veces, mientras caminaba por los pasillos del colegio o por los pasillos del periódico le decía: ¿Hasta cuándo piensas seguir así, Chile? ¿Es que te vas a convertir en otra cosa? ¿En un monstruo que ya nadie reconocerá?"

En tan solo dos párrafos (uno regordete y de gran p

"Chile, Chile. ¿Cómo has podido cambiar tanto?, le decía a veces, asomado a mi ventana abierta, mirando el reverbero de Santiago en la lejanía. ¿Qué te han hecho? ¿Se han vuelto locos los chilenos? ¿Quién tiene la culpa? Y otras veces, mientras caminaba por los pasillos del colegio o por los pasillos del periódico le decía: ¿Hasta cuándo piensas seguir así, Chile? ¿Es que te vas a convertir en otra cosa? ¿En un monstruo que ya nadie reconocerá?"

En tan solo dos párrafos (uno regordete y de gran personalidad versus uno más desnutrido en extensión, pero efectivo), Bolaño construye magistralmente un relato que cuenta las reflexiones y recuerdos de un cura Opus Dei durante una noche de fiebre. Este recurre a la memoria para reconstruir su historia, cargada de frivolidad y silencios durante una época en la que ser callado y frívolo era, precisamente, un privilegio. La narración se torna rápidamente un viaje introspectivo que revisita los lugares de encuentro entre el cura y los círculos literarios de la época, mientras que, como telón de fondo, la dictadura militar en Chile se hace presente como un espacio latente, silencioso.

La reconstrucción biográfica del cura se siente mucho más real con la ficcionalización de figuras tan renombradas en Chile como Pablo Neruda o Pinochet, quienes no participan activamente del relato pero están ahí, igual de inmortalizados que en la realidad, para provocar un influjo de historicidad y veracidad al relato. Bolaño se toma la licencia de retratar a un Pinochet caricaturizado, quien se muestra como un letrado que ha leído Palomita blanca de Lafourcade y quiere aprender marxismo. Esta sensación de realidad se refuerza con el constante renombre del canon literario y el depósito académico que, siento, está muy bien representado con el personaje de Farewell.

Más allá de la pulcritud en la prosa de Bolaño y su genialidad como escritor, creo que lo más importante de este libro radica en el significado que carga el protagonista de la novela. Siento que está muy bien construido y representa la Historia (en mayúscula) de la dictadura, ese discurso oficial que por un lado calla a las víctimas y, por otro, se convierte en cómplice producto de su propio silencio. La genialidad de Bolaño está en encontrar una nueva forma de representar el horror, a través de la indiferencia y la frivolidad con que los organismos de poder (en este caso, el eclesiástico) esconden la vulnerabilidad de las víctimas y aparentan sentirse tranquilos con lo ocurrido. Nocturno de Chile muestra la panorámica de esa voz oficial que cree estar en paz consigo misma pero que, tan pronto cuando las luces se apagan, se desarma y diluye entre la fiebre y los escombros de la noche. Hay que leer más a Bolaño, sí o sí. ...more

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Nov 16, 2014 Sarah ~ rated it liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: 2014, latin-america, ebook

"أنا ، الإنسان الذي صنعَ اسماً على نحوٍ ما ، بل اسمان ، أحدهما مشهور ، وبعضُ الأعداء والكثير من الأصدقاء .."

هذا أفضل تقديم لشخصية بطل الرواية وعلى لسانه أيضاً .
القس سباستيان أوروتيا لاكروا ، الأديب والشاعر والناقد ، ذو النزعة التشكيكية ، والميال للإرتياب والمتصالح معَ نفسه إلى حدٍ ما ، "كنت في سلامٍ مع نفسي ، صامتْ وفي سلام " ، يأتي ماضيه ويلاحقه .فهو مصمم على وجود عدو "يهلوس بوجوده" يطلق عليه اسم " الشاب الهرم ".
وهو يحتضر يحكي قصصاً من الأدب والتاريخ و السياسة وعن تشيلي ..
في شبابه تعرف على ناقد
"أنا ، الإنسان الذي صنعَ اسماً على نحوٍ ما ، بل اسمان ، أحدهما مشهور ، وبعضُ الأعداء والكثير من الأصدقاء .."

هذا أفضل تقديم لشخصية بطل الرواية وعلى لسانه أيضاً .
القس سباستيان أوروتيا لاكروا ، الأديب والشاعر والناقد ، ذو النزعة التشكيكية ، والميال للإرتياب والمتصالح معَ نفسه إلى حدٍ ما ، "كنت في سلامٍ مع نفسي ، صامتْ وفي سلام " ، يأتي ماضيه ويلاحقه .فهو مصمم على وجود عدو "يهلوس بوجوده" يطلق عليه اسم " الشاب الهرم ".
وهو يحتضر يحكي قصصاً من الأدب والتاريخ و السياسة وعن تشيلي ..
في شبابه تعرف على ناقد وصحفي شهير : يدعى فارويل ، كلاهما يقدسان الشعر ونيرودا على وجه الخصوص ..,وكانا رفيقين لفترة طويلة وشهدا الكثير معاً .
في المنتصف تقريباً حينَ أصيب بالإكتئاب وذهب في جولة لأوروبا من أجل التعرف على طرق للحفاظ على الكنائس القديمة ، نفاجأ بالقساوسة الذين يحتفظون بالصقور من أجل صيد الحمام "المتهم" بتلويث سطوح الكنائس .
وهو فعل وحشي يجعلك تتساءل مطولاً عن ما أرادَالكاتب توصيله هنا .
حينَ يعود إلى تشيلي ، ويقع الإنقلاب الشهير (11/9/1973) حينها أطاح الجنرال بينوشيه بالرئيس الليندي ..
وما تبعه من أفعال النظام الجديد ..
تحدث الأب الغارق بين كتبه ، عن كل شيء تقريباً : من فقدان الأصدقاء وموت نيرودا" وفقدان الحرية ، وحظر التجول وتعليمه لـ بينوشيه وجنرالاته الإشتراكية وما تعنيه .:)
ولكنه لم يتحدث عن العنف والقتل والتعذيب والإختفاءات ، فقط برر لمرة واحدة صمته " هو لم يعرف ، هو لم يعلم ماكانَ يحدث حقاً " ..
روبرتو بولانيو الذي يستخدم السخرية المبطنة يصور مجتمعاً محافظاً يعيشُ أياماً صعبة ويعاني تحت نير من حكموه وتغلغل فيه النفاق والكره والعنف بين كل طبقاته ، الرواية مليئة بأسماء الأدباء والذي يتردد ذكر الثائر نيرودا أكثر من سواه ..
ليل تشيلي ذات الـ 160 صفحة تقريباً والتي كتبها بولانيو بلغة فاتنة ، أعتقد لسبر غورها تحتاج لقراءة أخرى ، فهي عميقة ، ورمزية وساخرة ،وبها الكثير مما يستحق الإقتباس .

...more

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Feb 14, 2012 Erial Noreste rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: fiction, 2000

Difícil para los que no son chilenos saber que los personajes de esta novela se inspiran en dos instituciones fácticas de la literatura chilena del S.XX: Ibañes Langlois (Urrutia Lacroix), sacerdote del Opus Dei y crítico literario sin contrapeso durante la dictadura; y Alone (Farewell), Hernán Díaz Arrieta, otro crítico conservador "irrefutable", antecesor del primero.

Asimismo lo narrado en la novela no es más que una ficción sobre hechos y personajes estrictamente reales. Hechos que constituye ...more

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Apr 08, 2017 Auguste rated it it was amazing

What a poet Bolaño was! A single-sitting read, so artfully paced, so musical, it leaves you breathless.

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Feb 26, 2016 Dhanaraj Rajan rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: literature, south-american-lit

I found the book initially intimidating. It is a book that contains just two paragraphs and the second paragraph is just a line that appears at the last page of the book. Besides there were names, obviously from Chilean literati, of which I knew nothing. I had tried this book once earlier and abandoned it after 25 pages.

The second effort at reading it was a huge success. At least, in matters relating to the act of reading it. For, I sat at a stretch and read it in a day. Although I loved the lan I found the book initially intimidating. It is a book that contains just two paragraphs and the second paragraph is just a line that appears at the last page of the book. Besides there were names, obviously from Chilean literati, of which I knew nothing. I had tried this book once earlier and abandoned it after 25 pages.

The second effort at reading it was a huge success. At least, in matters relating to the act of reading it. For, I sat at a stretch and read it in a day. Although I loved the language and the small episodes involving different characters (eg: Pablo Neruda, Ernst Junger, General Pinochet, etc.), still I felt that I was somehow at a distance form the novel and its message. Later when I came to know that it was a subtle satire on Chilean political and literary situation, I knew the reason for me not getting it completely. I searched for the background details.

And then, my understanding took a new turn. Everything revealed itself in different colour. It is a novel in which an elderly priest at the tail end of his life, remembers his entire life in retrospect. He also had the reputation of a good critic and a mediocre poet. As his life was ebbing away, he was confronted by few questions raised by his conscience. As a result he embarks on a journey back to his past in an attempt to justify all his actions. Nota Bene: The religious authorities stood along with the dictatorships that resulted in the oppression of ordinary folks. And it was he (the priest belonging to Opus Dei) who taught the doctrine of Marxism to the General Pinochet and his allies.

When the priest recounts this event to his friend Farewell, his friend becomes speechless. And the priest asks him the following question: "Did I do the right thing or not?" When he gets no answer from his friend he repeats the question in a different formulation. He asks: "Did I do my duty, or did I go beyond it?" By now Farewell is awake and answers with the following question: "Was it a necessary or an unnecessary course of action?" To which the priest replies: "Necessary, necessary, necessary." I sincerely think, these questions and answers reveal what goes on in a totalitarian regime. What the regime says is right and listening to it is the duty and to comply is the only necessary course of action. Or else, you will end up a blood soaked body without life. I mean, unimaginable torture and the inevitable death.

So the priest/poet/literary critic finds himself doing what was needed of him. He wrote in praise of novels that were approved by the regime even though they were totally crap. The literary person and the righteous priest in him come to life now and then and force him to create poems that are appropriate to the situation. But fearing the consequences, he destroys them immediately after composing them. He wanted to be a man of history. That is, he went along with history in its flow. Bolano writes/the pries thinks: "An individual is no match for history. The wizened youth [the conscience] has always been alone, and I have always been on history's side."

Recently I read Imre Kertesz' The Holocaust as Culture. The similar point is discussed in it too. Kertesz makes a shattering observation when he writes the following: "The Kantian categorical imperative - ethics in general - is but the pliable handmaiden of self-preservation." ...more

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Aug 26, 2014 Fatema Hassan , bahrain rated it liked it · review of another edition

^_^
هنا حرق للأحداث لا يُنصح به لمن لم يقرأ الرواية بعد .

" إخلع الشعر المستعار " تشيستيرتون
الروح الوطنية الأصيلة تقابلها النزعة التشكيكية في فضح كل دخيل في عالم الأدب .. هكذا يباغتنا بولانيو

الروائي التشيلي روبرتو بولانيو بعد قراءة روايته " التعويذة " للمرة الثانية يتسرب من بين يداي كلما حاولت استجماعه / فهو ماء الأدب / بنسقه المشتت بين حكايا وأحلام وكوابيس لا تملك إلا أن تستثنيه عن المجموعة اللاتينية وعن واقعيتهم السحرية فهو يحلق عالياً ك صقور روايته ليصطاد الحمام الذي يلوث الكنائس بالفضلات ،
ف ...more

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Dec 06, 2012 El Avestruz Liado rated it really liked it

Does the world needs another review of "By Night in Chile"? Of course not, so let me just give a few pieces of advice for the prospective reader:

- Try to allow yourself some time to read it in a single sit. The book is structured as a single paragraph, so you better read it with as few interruptions as possible.

- The first third is rather slow, the very beginning is nice but then it goes into mincing Chilean literature. I guess most of you will recognize some names like Neruda, Parra and Donoso ...more

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Aug 23, 2018 Steven Godin rated it liked it

Shelves: fiction, latin-america, chile

Since 1973, Bolaño has lived outside Chile and most of his fiction has reflected that. His previous novel, The Savage Detectives was a work as peripatetic as his own existence. He himself was clearly a little underwhelmed by the contemporary Chilean scene, and perhaps with good reason. By Night in Chile, for me anyway, is not a typical Bolaño novel, thus I didn't like it as much when thinking of 2666, The Savage Detectives, and the brilliant collection of short-stories in Last Evenings on Earth. ...more

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Apr 26, 2015 Teresa rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: n-chile, 4e

"...o abismo e a vertigem, a pequenez do ser e a sua ridícula vontade, gente que vê televisão, gente que assiste aos jogos de futebol, o aborrecimento como um porta-aviões gigantesco circum-navegando o imaginário chileno. E esta era a verdade. Aborrecíamo-nos. Líamos e aborrecíamo-nos. (...) Porque não se pode ler todo o dia e toda a noite."

"Depois, a tempestade de merda abate-se."

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Mar 13, 2018 Amira Mahmoud rated it it was ok · review of another edition

Shelves: translated, أدب-روايات

جميعنا يكوّن انطباعات عن الكتب قبل قرأتها، قد تكون انطباعات سيئة وأخرى جيدة؛ لكنها تظل انطباعات بلا سبب منطقي وتبقى القراءة هي الوسيلة الوحيدة للتأكد من صحة أحكامنا وانطباعتنا تلك أو خطأها

في كل مرة كانت "ليل تشيلي" تمرّ من أمامي كنت أشعر أنها ستكون تجربة جيدة؛ وعلى الرغم من أنها في فترة من الفترات كانت تظهر أمامي بشكل يلّح عليّ ويخبرني أن هيا قد حان وقت قرأتها، كنت أقوم بتأجيلها لا أعلم لمَ، هل كنت أدخرها لوقت كهذا أشعر فيه بفتور شديد تجاه قراءة الروايات؟ لا أدري، لكن صغر حجمها كان دافع ليّ هذه جميعنا يكوّن انطباعات عن الكتب قبل قرأتها، قد تكون انطباعات سيئة وأخرى جيدة؛ لكنها تظل انطباعات بلا سبب منطقي وتبقى القراءة هي الوسيلة الوحيدة للتأكد من صحة أحكامنا وانطباعتنا تلك أو خطأها

في كل مرة كانت "ليل تشيلي" تمرّ من أمامي كنت أشعر أنها ستكون تجربة جيدة؛ وعلى الرغم من أنها في فترة من الفترات كانت تظهر أمامي بشكل يلّح عليّ ويخبرني أن هيا قد حان وقت قرأتها، كنت أقوم بتأجيلها لا أعلم لمَ، هل كنت أدخرها لوقت كهذا أشعر فيه بفتور شديد تجاه قراءة الروايات؟ لا أدري، لكن صغر حجمها كان دافع ليّ هذه المرة لألتقطها وأقرر قرائتها.

وعلى الرغم من صغر حجمها، كنت أشعر في نقاط كثيرة بالتيه وأحيانًا بالملل، كانت من وقت لآخر تجذبني شاعرية اللغة فحتى على الرغم من أن الترجمة تنتقص كثيرًا من جماليات النص لكن في بعض الجمل يمكن أن تدرك بلا عناء كثير أن الكاتب هو شاعر قبل أن يكون روائي، وهو ما وجدته حقيقي بالفعل حين قرأت عن الكاتب بعد أن انهيت الرواية.

الرواية تحكي عن القديس الشاب سباستيان أوراتيا، المهتم بالشعر والأدب ولديه بعض الأصدقاء من الشعراء، يحكي أحاديثه مع صديقه الشاعر "فارويل" كلاهما يعشق نيرودا ويشعر بالحزن العميق على تشيلي، أحيانًا أخرى يحكي أوراتيا أحاديث مع "الشاب الهَرم" ذلك الشبح الذي اخترعه أوراتيا كي يكون صديقه في لحظات وحدته وهذيانه، يحكي أيضًا قصصًا من هنا وهناك، عن ذكرياته مع السلطة ومع أصحاب الصالونات الأدبية.

في بعض الأحيان كنت اندمج مع حكاياته وفي البعض الآخر كنت أشعر بالتيه، ولا أدري حقًا أهذا سببه ذلك الحظ السيء مع الكتب الذي يلازمني منذ نهاية العام الماضي أم هي فقط رواية لم تُكتب ليّ
لكنها في المحصلة لم تكن أبدًا كما توقعت.

تمّت. ...more

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Feb 14, 2015 Amir rated it liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: novel

سختی خوندن کتابهای بولانو برمیگرده به دو چیز. یکی اینکه بولانو راوی شاعرها و نویسندههای شیلی هست. طبیعتا کسی که با این ادبیات آشنایی نداشته باشه نمیتونه ارجاعات مسلسلوار کتابهاش رو درک کنه. از طرف دیگه نثر خود بولانو نثر مکلفی هست و هیچوقت به ساده و بیپرده گفتن تن نمیده. هر دو تای این عوامل باعث میشن بولانو نویسندهی «سختخوان»ی باشه.

ارجاعات کتاب رو خوب متوجه نشدم. تا نصفههای کتاب داشتم مدام این سوال رو میپرسیدم که چرا دارم این کتاب رو میخونم تا اینکه از نیمهها به بعد و با شروع سفر راوی کشیش و من ...more

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Jul 23, 2017 Carolina Paiva added it · review of another edition

Shelves: on-my-shelf-already

Bolaño é mestre no uso das palavras. Comecei muito bem esta leitura, adorei as primeiras páginas. Depois, perdi-me, a mistura de histórias fez-me voltar atrás várias vezes. Voltei a gostar muito em algumas partes específicas mas não como no início. Os diálogos entre os personagens são do mais desconcertante possível. Se por vezes me faziam rir à gargalhada, outras ficava com a sensação que eram todos loucos.

É um livro pequeno e recheado. Frenético, por vezes. Confuso. Acho que pela primeira vez Bolaño é mestre no uso das palavras. Comecei muito bem esta leitura, adorei as primeiras páginas. Depois, perdi-me, a mistura de histórias fez-me voltar atrás várias vezes. Voltei a gostar muito em algumas partes específicas mas não como no início. Os diálogos entre os personagens são do mais desconcertante possível. Se por vezes me faziam rir à gargalhada, outras ficava com a sensação que eram todos loucos.

É um livro pequeno e recheado. Frenético, por vezes. Confuso. Acho que pela primeira vez gostei de repetições de palavras, fizeram sentido e deram intensidade à situação. Ponto extra para a forma como o narrador desconstrói as suas próprias afirmações, como nos faz duvidar. Senti-me enganada e estranhamente atraída. No entanto, se logo no início lhe dediquei a minha total atenção não consegui voltar a fazê-lo em mais nenhum momento do livro. Estava constantemente à espera do grande momento de Bolaño que não chegou a acontecer. Ou talvez já tivesse acontecido logo naquele início (vale a pena regressar ao início). Acaba de forma desconcertante, quase a roçar o estúpido. É perfeitamente possível que não o tenha entendido. Acho que este foi o primeiro escritor-génio que li. (Talvez Saramago também se enquadre aqui, embora de uma forma mais consciente). Parece-me que Bolaño não tem noção do impacto que provoca e portanto é-lhe fácil trocar as voltas de tudo, quase "gozar" com o próprio texto.

Tudo começa com um padre (e crítico literário) a relembrar alguns dos momentos mais marcantes da sua vida. Posso também adiantar que tudo acaba assim.

Todo o livro é rodeado de uma aura pesada, quase diabólica, na iminência de um desastre.

Vou continuar a ler mais de Bolaño. E o próximo será já daqui a uns dias.

"...em certas alturas, os meus ganidos eram apenas audíveis para aqueles que com a unha do indicador eram capazes de raspar a superfície dos meus escritos, só para esses, que não eram muitos, mas que para mim eram suficientes, e a vida continuava e continuava e continuava, como um colar de arroz em que cada bago tivesse uma paisagem pintada..."
...more

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Jan 02, 2018 LW rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

I miei silenzi sono immacolati . Che sia chiaro.

Sfido a non aver repentino desiderio di conoscere il cileno Sebastián Urrutia Lacroix ,dopo un incipit così

Ora muoio, ma ho ancora molte cose da dire. Ero in pace con me stesso. Muto e in pace.
Ma all’improvviso le cose sono emerse. La colpa è di quel giovane invecchiato.
Io ero in pace. Ora non sono più in pace. Bisogna chiarire certi punti.
Quindi mi appoggerò su un gomito e solleverò la testa, la mia nobile testa tremante, e cercherò nell’ang ...more

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Jan 12, 2011 Ade Bailey rated it it was amazing

Shelves: fiction

I thought this very good. It's my first encounter with this writer, and although I have seen reviews suggesting his 'difficulty', I have no hesitation in recommending this to anybody. (I thank Mike Puma for suggesting it as probably the most suitable introduction to the author).

It's very rich and dense, with startling images and cross-cutting motifs; many extratextual references too, but I hardly think they matter at this stage. Later, I will return to read the book again, as one will return to I thought this very good. It's my first encounter with this writer, and although I have seen reviews suggesting his 'difficulty', I have no hesitation in recommending this to anybody. (I thank Mike Puma for suggesting it as probably the most suitable introduction to the author).

It's very rich and dense, with startling images and cross-cutting motifs; many extratextual references too, but I hardly think they matter at this stage. Later, I will return to read the book again, as one will return to a film, looking forward to the total experience, reading differently, with more prepared resonance as a reader.

Here I'll reveal what struck me immediately. The single paragraph of the novel (well, there's two if you include the seven word paragraph at the end, important as it is) is the confessional of a Priest/Poet/Aesthete/Critic who believes he's dying. He isn't - except of course, he is, as we all are. He's not a sympathetic character, what with his being a coward, a debauch, a hero worshipper, a solipsistic fool (just to begin the catalogue). But he is sympathetic too for the poor man is just anyone. I'm not convinced that this is remotely a book about Chile, despite the confessor's search for the very Christian, very Chilean. I think a reader who goes in fangs bared knowing this Priest is member of (fashionably, what else, negatively connoted) Opus Dei or intuiting that he was part of the establishment that crushed the brave Socialist experiment will miss much of what is actually in the text. That's something ironic, something of the the world of the lovers of literature and the arts generally, that something being you don't approach act and being as a political animal by chattering about representations. There are the precisely controlled traces, just enough, of the horrors of Chile - and, incidentally, Europe and the USA - to help embrace a certain readership into necessary active political studies of the nature of myths , narratives of gods, nations, good and evil, left and right, personal identity. Even Pinochet - who has a speaking part in this novel (during one of the Priest's six stories) understands that to defeat a story you meed to understand it. Bolano, though, goes deeper, and suggests that if you scratch away at any story an utter boredom, acidie, ruination and decay are revealed. Again, here, the reader who knows knows about relating to personalities at a much more positive level (by contrast): the lecher priest who feels Pinochet's hand upon his knee like a myriad desiring multitude of hands; the frightened priest who sees in a namesake baby with eyes and mouth closed himself against the world (while, in this moment also rushing with heterosexual desire) knows nothing of health: for him the world is in ruins, and broken and unstable as much of the imagery of the novel explores.

It's useful to have priest-aesthete as narrator. For one thing, such an individual has the ideological permission to be above the mere world of the messily human, and Sebastian (the priest) assumes such permission (as many do do). His torpor (mere boredom) in Chile is followed by aesthetic excitatation springing from one part of Europe to another. In a hymn to his God he praises not the Lord's justice or concern for the oppressed but his own being graced by encounter with "my happiness, passion regained, genuine devotion, my prayers rising up and up through the crowds to the realm of pure music, to what for want of a better name we call the choir of angels, a non-human space but undoubtedly the only imaginable space we humans can truly inhabit, an uninhabitable space but the only one worth inhabiting, a space in which we will cease to be but the only space in which we can be what we truly are..." My guess is that there are priest-aesthetes spouting this all over the world in various forms. There may have been refined monsters in Auschwitz sharing sherries with their local clergy who hissed it too.

This particular failed poet longs for a more 'cultured' 'Chile'. He immerses himself in Graeco-Roman 'culture' (clean as a sculpture, and neatly forgetting Aristotle's - and later Aquinas' - emphasis upon the political centrality of being); he longs for 'his' country to open itself to Whitman, Pound, Eliot, Hugo, Borges, Tolstoy (what a truly bizarre conglomerate!); he wilfully, proudly, separates himself from the universe of political events (the real people's acting and being), and regularly joins the grotesque gatherings of third-rate literati, artists and such that chatter in comfortable soirees while beneath them in the basements of a house whose labyrinthine corridors are laid our 'like a crossword puzzle', victims of torture suffer and die. But he's no more a coward than anyone who lives like that. Anywhere, any time.

The failure of aestheticism to complete and identity is the torment of this narrator. It is universal. He's allowed limited reflection himself, for instance awareness of his own own poems' division into apollonian and dionysian (such a division, of course, being about as creative, active, poetic as a crossword clue), Where the insistent filmic image of 'zooming' in through the petals of a flower, through the entrance to the Emperor's room through door after door of antechambers, to the 'tunnel of time, back into time's great meat-grinder' (the latter near the end) there's a redemptive possibility, that the frightened story-maker and conservative adult will recognise the wizened youth within and eschew both.

...more

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Feb 02, 2011 pierlapo quimby rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: latinoamericani

Quando un romanzo ti soddisfa al punto da riempirti completamente, si ha poco da dire.
Non c'è nulla da commentare, solo godere e tacere.
Ecco, mi taccio.
Ha detto tutto Roberto Bolaño.

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Aug 23, 2018 Outis rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: 2000-today, fiction, a-america-latina

Ora muoio, ma ho ancora molte cose da dire. Ero in pace con me stesso. Muto e in pace. Ma all’improvviso le cose sono emerse. La colpa è di quel giovane invecchiato. Io ero in pace. Ora non sono più in pace. Bisogna chiarire certi punti. Quindi mi appoggerò su un gomito e solleverò la testa, la mia nobile testa tremante, e cercherò nell’angolo dei ricordi quelle azioni che mi giustificano e perciò smentiscono le infamie che il giovane invecchiato ha sparso in giro a mio discredito in una sola n Ora muoio, ma ho ancora molte cose da dire. Ero in pace con me stesso. Muto e in pace. Ma all’improvviso le cose sono emerse. La colpa è di quel giovane invecchiato. Io ero in pace. Ora non sono più in pace. Bisogna chiarire certi punti. Quindi mi appoggerò su un gomito e solleverò la testa, la mia nobile testa tremante, e cercherò nell’angolo dei ricordi quelle azioni che mi giustificano e perciò smentiscono le infamie che il giovane invecchiato ha sparso in giro a mio discredito in una sola notte fulminea. A mio presunto discredito. Bisogna essere responsabili. È tutta la vita che lo dico. Abbiamo l’obbligo morale di essere responsabili delle nostre azioni e anche delle nostre parole e perfino dei nostri silenzi, sì, dei nostri silenzi, perché anche i silenzi salgono al cielo e Dio li sente e solo Dio li comprende e giudica, per cui molta attenzione ai silenzi. Io sono responsabile di tutto. I miei silenzi sono immacolati.

Non so perchè finora avessi sempre snobbato Roberto Bolano. Forse snobbare non è la parola giusta. L'ho piuttosto ignorato. Sì, avevo messo 2666 tra i to-read, ma senza alcuna fretta di leggerlo.
Notturno Cileno è breve e ho pensato, male che vada sono 100 pagine e gli ho dato un'occasione.
Ho fatto bene. Ma quanto sapeva scrivere quest'uomo?
Ottima scrittura a parte, è un libro interessante. Un prete dell'Opus Dei, nonchè critico letterario, cileno e morente ricorda alcuni episodi della sua vita per "smentire le infamie di un giovane invecchiato". Chi sia, o meglio cosa sia, questo giovane invecchiato possiamo immaginarlo. Bolano non scrive solo un attacco alle gerarchie ecclesiastiche per la loro connivenza con il regime di Pinochet, si rivolge anche a noi. A tutti noi, che siamo dei chiunque che non vedono o fingono di non vedere (o meglio, che, forse, non vedrebbero o fingerebbero di non vedere) per quieto vivere, perchè tanto non è compito nostro.
Un libro oscuro, con personaggi disturbanti, ma che sarebbe troppo facile vedere come completamente diversi da noi.

E intanto gli altri libri di Bolano scalano la to-read list. ...more

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May 26, 2009 Pickle Farmer rated it really liked it

A very memorable, powerful book that asks the very difficult but important question: what is the relevance (if any) of literature to Real Life, especially when said Real Life involves political turmoil? (Specifically a military coup when people are being tortured and killed in basements while literary parties are taking place upstairs.) Is it brave and wise to read Thucycides and Plato when a democratically elected president is being overthrown, or just stupid and detached? With this novella, na ...more

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About Roberto Bolaño

Roberto Bolaño

3,436 followers

For 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.

H For 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. It has been suggested that he was at one time a heroin addict and that the cause of his death was a liver illness resulting from Hepatitis C, with which he was infected as a result of sharing needles during his "mainlining" days. However, the accuracy of this has been called into question. It is true that he suffered from liver failure and was close to the top of a transplant list at the time of his death.

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. ...more