Chilean Poet

by Alejandro Zambra

the world of Chilean poets is a little stupid but it’s still more genuine, less false than the ordinary lives of people who follow the rules and keep their heads down. Of course there is opportunism and cruelty, but also real passion and heroism and allegiance to dreams. She thinks that Chilean poets are stray dogs and stray dogs are Chilean poets and that she herself is a Chilean poet, poking her snout into the trash cans of an unknown city – she likes to think of herself as a Chilean poet, a Chilean poet who is neither poet nor Chilean, but whose journalistic pilgrimage in search of a break, her always frustrated dream of publishing in the big magazines or at least writing a noteworthy and resonant piece, somehow unites her with those men and especially those women who skulk in the alleyways of myth and desire. In retrospect, her life in New York seems frivolous, but it’s also true that she never wanted to do just anything; she always sought, and continues to seek, something, and though she is not sure what it is, she knows it is not entirely tied up with success or recognition. If you look at her right, she really is a pretty heroic figure.