"I've been cordially invited to join the visceral realists. I accepted, of course. There was no initiation ceremony. It was better that way."
- Roberto Bolaño, The Savage Detectives.
I'm 206 pages into this book (plane rides do wonders for your reading velocity) and while I can't say I truly get what's going on, it sure is entertaining. My only complaint is linked to my complete ignorance of the many, many poets that are all mentioned here; without knowing these writers, i'm letting the endless names wash over me, missing (i'm sure) something integral. Still, at the end of the day, this is a book about passion and poetry and how reality doesn't match up to either, and that's coming through loud and clear, in fascinating variety. It's written in the same style as Bolaño's incredible 2666, but without, so far, the variety of subject. To that end, it's a bit static so far - there are only so many conversations about poets you don't know you can read! - but i'm going to stick with it at least until the setting leaves Mexico City and see what happens.