Roberto Bolaño – a bibliography

(Updated bibliography at THIS LINK.)


Bolañophile that I am, I have made it a point to read all of the Chilean's works. I have come to anticipate the English translations that are slowly coming in trickles.


I have only ever read Roberto Bolaño (1953-2003) in English. Of the first 8 books I encountered (I have yet to receive my copy of The Skating Rink, the latest publication in English translation, it's on its way now), my favorites thus far are the large novels The Savage Detectives and 2666. As for the small ones, I loved Last Evenings on Earth, Nazi Literature in the Americas, and Amulet, as well as the poems in The Romantic Dogs (review).


Here then is a listing of the works of Bolaño (so far), in chronological order of book publication in Spanish language. The ones in English are highlighted. I took them from various sources available online. The years in which the English translations appeared are also indicated. Anthologies of poetry and stories edited by Bolaño are excluded.


(Updated bibliography at THIS LINK.)




More than 20 works were listed. Several were still unpublished as they were just discovered in the past year ("found" among the author's papers in Spain). What is so impressive about this list is that the bulk of Bolaño's outputs was practically written in the last decade of his life, from 1993 to 2003. To have written that quantity of books in such a short time, and to have sustained a high quality of writing in a variety of forms (novel, novella, poem, essay, book review – it seems the only thing lacking is dramatic play), he must have been a fast and furious writer. He must have hoarded a stockpile of imagination.


A purported last part of 2666 is included among the newly discovered materials. Surely Bolaño never intended this chapter for publication? Otherwise he would have included this in 2666's 'final draft'. He had specifically outlined the contents of the novel and given instructions on how it is to be published, as what the editor mentioned in the book's Afterword.


There also exists a book called Una novelita lumpen (2002). It's strange that no publication date for an English translation was scheduled for it, either from the publisher New Directions or Picador. Whatever the reason (copyright issues?), this book will surely be in the mainstream soon, not only because it is part of brand Bolaño, but because it also has an interesting premise. Here's how it is described in The Columbia Guide to the Latin American Novel Since 1945: "With Una novelita lumpen ... Bolaño changes the setting [of his book, from Chile in By Night in Chile,] to Rome, so his typically extreme characters are now engaged in new types of experiences, including the discovery of some of the best and worst aspects of sexuality."


Extreme characters. New experiences. The best and worst aspects of sexuality. That sounds like a Bolaño, alright.

Cross-posting with Facebook

We're now linked with Facebook too. It's done via an app called NetworkedBlogs.


All these hyperlinking and forking paths, did Borges really dream of these labyrinths?

Cross-posting with Multiply

This blog is now directly linked to my Multiply account. The linkage enables me to post simultaneously in Blogger and in Multiply. Neat. I was able to import in Multiply all my previous posts here. The comments to the posts however were not preserved.


Actually this is a test. Right now I'm typing this in Blogger. The moment I click "Publish Post" is the moment it will be cross-posted in Multiply? The only way to know is to check if the teleportation will indeed take place. How long before the radioactive material decay and trigger the release of poison gas? Now, should I write in Multiply too and check if the whole thing appears here?


Is that Shrödinger's cat meowing?


UPDATE: It's not working so far. I'll open the box again later.

2nd UPDATE: It worked!

3rd UPDATE: However it appears that whatever I edit here will not be reflected there. So much for astral projection.

Trese: Murder on Balete Drive (Budjette Tan and Kajo Baldisimo)

Note: This review may contain spoilers.


The reference code, according to the French thinker Roland Barthes, is that mode of writing characterized by a confident appeal to a universal (or consensual) truth, or a body of shared cultural (or scientific) knowledge. This appeal can be made on a text loaded with cultural references that are constantly being alluded to, elided, or inverted. The rich commonsensical and supernatural beliefs and belief systems can be the text's sources and materials—the references. The entities which the symbols fashioned after them refer to the writer's referents. The seamless integration of reference and referent constitutes an artist's repertoire of the reference code, also called the cultural code.


As an example, the reference code is the mode of analysis that the über-critic James Wood used (in his guide book How Fiction Works and in his other review essays) in interpreting the fictional works of Leo Tolstoy and José Saramago. The writings of these two novelists are grounded in naturalism that are floating in a sea of imaginative events. The repetitive appeal of these writers to everyday-life acts and situations, including their character's surprising responses to (actual) experiences, shapes a narrative that is reference-driven. The schema and structure of their novels themselves are designed in such a way as to capture the references.


So what gives, this painstaking introduction?


I see no reason why the reference code cannot be applied to the reading of graphic fiction. In comic books we see scenes boxed and captioned, progressing in their visual narrative through the accumulation of details. Comics is a medium most receptive to the omniscient point of view, a major requirement of the free indirect style of narrative progression. Visually at least, we are privy to the introspection of the hero, the frozen details captured in a swirl of action. The illustrations and texts strive to communicate verisimilitude and references. Taken as a whole, the graphic's universe is a frieze or a tableau, built up from its constituent references and can itself be an ultimate reference point.


The weird world of Trese, as written by Budjette Tan and illustrated by Kajo Baldisimo, is one such universe rife with mysterious happenings and references. The Philippine mythos and legends are the references. The referents are the unusual suspects—the white lady, the tikbalang, the nuno sa punso, the Santelmo (St. Elmo's fire), and the superhero. All these figments appear in a new light. Tan and Baldisimo have successfully reinvigorated the mythos with new meanings and they have provided new ways of looking at their indigenous source materials. It is a great credit to them that they have given a deep interpretation of Pinoy mythos in the modern setting. They have commanded deep respect to their material and sources.


Take the case of the "double dead" white lady, the first case in the first volume of the series (Murder on Balete Drive). The story starts simple enough but then suddenly the weird takes a turn for the weirder. Alexandra Trese, the "para-crimes" consultant, investigates a case where a white lady was found murdered. Clearly the logic of Trese operates within a dimension where the unwritten rules of the otherworldly are meant to be violated, that is to say, where everything is possible. The goal is perhaps not so much a quarrel with clichés but peacefully working around them. After all, there will always be white ladies in Balete Drive, so we might as well permit the killing of them once in a while.


The reference code here operates on the simple idea of the immortality (or rather, mortality) of ghosts. This unique variation, an inversion, is novel enough, but around this neat trick, the story is given perfectly fitting details, each of them also grounded in manipulated references—the consultation with a resettled nuno sa punso, the fine dust made from a truly exotic material, and the aswangs (ghouls).


The three other cases in Trese 1 demonstrate the skillful use of the reference code. The second case ("Rules of the Race"), that of an unbeatable drag racer, is another refurbished look at a supernatural being. In the race, as in the world of Trese, there are in fact no rules and whatever remains of the rules are to be bent. From tell-tale hoof prints found in the scene of a car accident, Alexandra Trese, aided by her opposable emoticon-masked twin sidekicks (charismatic characters, they are), begins her investigation and proceeds like a vampire, sniffing the elusive imprints of a delinquent underworld. In these cases, Ms. Trese's unearthly-like informers are "slightly" cooperative, and they hide where you least expect them: in a manhole, in a penthouse suite of a tall tower, in a spa.


The fourth case ("Our Secret Constellation") is something else. It is a masterful rendition of the story of fallen heroes. Sure enough, heroes and villains here are permanent fixtures of old Pinoy comics. But what else can be gleaned from them? The genius here is in the slow realization, in the slow recognition, of the identities of characters and their tragic situation. The genius here is in how it portrays a destructive force that is love, in how it can be the true weakness of a seasoned hero, yet with another referential twist to the superhero myth: a nod to the psychological repercussions of sibling love, love that is too much, too sensitive, too loving. For strangely enough, love is a recurring theme in the first Trese installment. The fragility of love is such that it can be misguided, misdirected, and distorted. The hero is out to save the world, her willpower and dedication will propel her to achieve her objective (fight evil), but she can, will, never control the force of feeling around her.


Love is a primary motive for perversion, in its varying permutations in the four cases handled by Ms. Trese. To save the world with just a swallow of a stone. How does one invert that innocent notion? That simple act, of swallowing a stone, can also turn innocence into monster. It is perhaps one of the greatest homages one can give to Philippine comics artists like Mars Ravelo: to produce a work that is not just sheer parody of one's creations but a recreation and inversion of meanings and possibilities. It is after all in the Philippine komiks that these references are popularized. The referent-creatures may be borne by folk fairy tales and oral traditions, but their appearance in Philippine komiks is the major instrument in the cultivation of our generation's consciousness of them, their aesthetic and their cultural value.


The first four cases told in the first volume of Trese herald a new appreciation of the tradition of Philippine comics. Their creators' handling of the reference code is done with glee and panache. The art work, black and white grit, illustrates a city that is full of seething passions and black motives. The landscapes of the supernatural and superheroes are confidently resurrected with a nudge to the impossible.


Trese is now at the forefront of a new interest in Pinoy comics. And it now inspires a well deserved cult following. In the byways and pathways of Trese, be it in Balete Drive or C-5, Paco or Malate, are creations and creatures which can be referred to their original templates but which, when viewed from the perspective of the reference code, will easily hold their own.


In re-mystifying rather than demystifying Pinoy mythos and urban legends, Tan and Baldisimo upended an old set of references, imbued the perception of meanings with extra-sensory recognition, and created an alternative framework from which to view supernatural realities, replacing old spectacles with a new set of contacts.


* * * * *


Hold on to your references. Trese continues with the second volume, Unreported Murders. And something I look forward to: The 3rd volume is out.



(The above photo is of the enchanted hundred year old Balete tree of Siquijor Island, which my friends and I visited on September this year.)

Rise’s Classic Reading Before He’s Dead List

Over at Brilliant Babes (And Dudes) Who Read Selectively, one of my online book groups, the skewering of flawed 100 best books lists is ongoing. It started with the much maligned listing of the Penguin Classics' compilation of 100 greatest books.

Another list, from the publisher Vintage, was published. Vintage asked several reading groups in the UK to name 15 “Modern Classics” – 15 of its books that will still be read in 100 years time. The full list of Vintage is here, with a link to the longlist of 100 classic reads. Most recently, the lit weblog The Millions came up with the twenty best fictional works of the current millennium to date.

Such lists are useful and informative. They give us an idea of what respected people (academics, writers, critics) deem to be books of great substance and literary import. They validate us when books we have read are reflected in them. Somehow, the x days that I expended in wrestling with Book A was worth it since this list said that Book A is a classic among classics. At the same time, lists can be controversial, not only by what were included but what were left out. There can never be a politically correct and balanced list, I think. There are too many contending schools of literature, schools of thought, and literary theories: feminism, structuralism, naturalism, magic realism, surrealism, 19th century literature, postwar literature, contemporary literature, Western literature, American literature, Russian literature.

Some lists have at least the semblance of a balance, but still we find something was overlooked: why of all her books was this book of Author B listed, surely her more challenging and innovative second book should have been the one listed, it even won the prestigious Prize C. If we keep on scrutinizing lists, we can certainly find something to needle at. How much more would we scoff at 1,001 books to read before the oxygen that pumped the living breath expired out of the palpitating heart. Yet surely 1,001 books would achieve the comprehensiveness that the 100 will certainly lack. I commend anyone who can successfully slog through the thousand books and one book, giving themselves an enviable arsenal of ideas and in the process maybe cheating death. For surely one who constantly reads (usually in the confines of home) is not prone to accidents on the road. The "before you die" is such a justified and justifiable phrase. Avid readers who can rise up to the 1,001 challenge will have a peaceful trip to Rivers Styx and Lethe.

Reasons to love and hate such lists are bountiful. I wouldn’t enumerate them here. For me though, the basic operating picture of a serious reader is freedom to choose what one wants to read. This freedom is curtailed if there are individuals or entities who want to shove you a list and tell you that this is it. You can’t die peacefully if you haven’t read the all of it. It's it or never. Suit yourself: it's it or you die without it.

As a “corrective” or one must say, a considered reaction, my online group decided to come up with an exercise for its members. To come up with our own personal reading lists of 100 classics. There will be no constraints as to the definition of “classic”. It will loosely refer to great books one has read (a favorites list) combined with books one wants to read (wish list), plus books that one feels should be on the list (for whatever reason).

The lists we came up with so far are very telling. They are all personal. And I think they all boil down to taste, preferences, and cultural/economic/educational/etc. factors and circumstances. There is no reason to think that, in the field of art and literature, genetics and biological determinism play a role in the drafting of such lists. Or do they? Listing is a pretty much straightforward exercise, subjective, very arbitrary, and by no means final.

I'm certain my reading will still evolve. There is no predefined direction (genre, author, geography) that my open mind will not yet absorb. But for now, these listed books are what my instinct tells me are worthwhile reads.

Making book lists is forward-looking, too. I’m interested to know what I will think of my own list three, five, ten years from now (by which time I’m sure to have dimmed my near-perfect vision by going down through the list).

So how did I make my list? To make a list, I consulted other lists. I filtered down books that I feel I must read. Just because. There is a mixture of certainty, gut feel, and uncertainty in this exercise. What are my criteria for selecting? Like other members in my group, I have certain favorite authors and favorite books which I feel must instantly populate my 100. I consulted the publicity pages of publishers that put out quality literary books in their shelves. Penguin, Vintage, NYRB Classics, and New Directions are the usual suspects. Indie presses like the latter two are known for their fantastic inventories of world lit authors. To fill the list, I researched on an author's works and raffled off the titles (nah). I trimmed down my personal wish list, my books-to-buy-now-or-in-the-immediate-future list, my save-for-later lists. I tried to imagine which are the books that I myself will be reading freely, gleefully, and unimpeded. Books that I will not hesitate to buy. I also consulted literary web blogs devoted to world lit and books in translation. Certainly, there are still books that will make us question our faith in what we have previously read? That will shake our reading foundations and bury under rubble the books that we thought are unassailable in our list. It's a gladiatorial battle among books. An endless tournament of books in which the classics in their firmament will always be on the edge of being unseated by an upstart enfant terrible.



For as long as books are being written, published, and read, there would be a trickle of classics. And there will be pitting of books against books, authors against authors. And there will be ranking and listing. Speculative, nonsensical, prophetic, quixotic, hedonic. The best one can do is to look at the title of the book and approximate one's past/present/future relationship with it. To look at a title of the book and relate it to the whole. For one is given a limit as to the quantity (100 books) and one is limited as to the quality (acknowledged classic or classic-to-be).

And so, here’s my list before the appointed hour, 100-ish, from which I’ve read only quite a very few. Most are already in my shelf (pretty convenient for me to select them), and about half of these books I have yet to hunt down, in BookMooch, in Amazon, in some innocent used book store. Half were read or owned, the majority known only by reputation. Some are already canonized, some were published very recently, and some are not even translated into English yet! I first came up with 200-odd titles before narrowing it down to around 150, and then down to 125, and then there's this list. Enjoy.

1. Inter Ice Age 4 – Abé Kobo

2. How German Is It – Walter Abish

3. Poems of Akhmatova – Anna Akhmatova

4. Rashōmon and Other Stories – Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

5. The Divine Comedy – Dante Alighieri

6. Mansfield Park – Jane Austen

7. Emma – Jane Austen

8. Persuasion – Jane Austen

9. Gathering Evidence – Thomas Bernhard

10. Old Masters – Thomas Bernhard

11. 2666 – Roberto Bolaño

12. The Savage Detectives – Roberto Bolaño

13. Labyrinths – Jorge Luis Borges

14. The Plague – Albert Camus

15. Crowds and Power – Elias Canetti

16. Oscar and Lucinda – Peter Carey

17. The Stories of Raymond Carver

18. Poems of Paul Celan

19. Red Earth and Pouring Rain – Vikram Chandra

20. The Three Sisters – Anton Chekhov

21. Peasants and Other Stories– Anton Chekhov

22. The Master of Petersburg – J. M. Coetzee

23. Nostromo – Joseph Conrad

24. Hopscotch – Julio Cortázar

25. No Longer Human – Dazai Osamu

26. The Brothers Karamazov– Fyodor Dostoevsky

27. Demons – Fyodor Dostoevsky

28. The Maias – Eça de Queirós

29. Invisible Man – Ralph Ellison

30. The Waiting Years – Enchi Fumiko

31. The Siege of Krishnapur – J. G. Farrell

32. The Sound and the Fury – William Faulkner

33. Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert

34. A Boy’s Will and North of Boston: Poems by Robert Frost

35. The Autumn of the Patriarch – Gabriel García Márquez

36. Dead Souls – Nikolai Gogol

37. Loving – Henry Green

38. Hangover Square – Patrick Hamilton

39. Hunger – Knut Hamsun

40. The Sun Also Rises – Ernest Hemingway

41. Les Misérables – Victor Hugo

42. Black Rain – Ibuse Masuji

43. The Unconsoled – Kazuo Ishiguro

44. The Ambassadors – Henry James

45. The American – Henry James

46. The Woman Who Had Two Navels – Nick Joaquín

47. The Unfortunates – B. S. Johnson

48. Ulysses – James Joyce

49. The Castle – Franz Kafka

50. The Old Capital – Kawabata Yasunari

51. Memed, My Hawk – Yashar Kemal

52. On the Road – Jack Kerouac

53. Romance of the Three Kingdoms – Lo Kuan-Chung

54. A Perfect Vacuum – Stanisław Lem

55. A Sand County Almanac – Aldo Leopold

56. Under the Volcano – Malcolm Lowry

57. The Executioner’s Song – Norman Mailer

58. Doctor Faustus – Thomas Mann

59. Joseph and His Brothers – Thomas Mann

60. The Magic Mountain – Thomas Mann

61. Your Face Tomorrow – Javier Marías

62. Blood Meridian – Cormac McCarthy

63. A Treatise on Poetry – Czesław Milosz
64. Senselessness – Horacio Castellanos Moya

65. The Discovery of Heaven – Harry Mulisch

66. 1Q84 – Murakami Haruki

67. Sixty-Nine – Murakami Ryū
68. Nineteen Eighty-Four – George Orwell

69. Metamorphoses - Ovid

70. Life: A User’s Manual – Georges Perec

71. The Book of Disquiet – Fernando Pessoa

72. The Republic – Plato

73. Morte D’Urban – J. F. Powers

74. In Search of Lost Time – Marcel Proust

75. Exercises in Style – Raymond Queneau

76. Tigers are Better-Looking – Jean Rhys

77. The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke

78. Grande Sertão: Veredas – João Guimarães Rosa

79. Call It Sleep – Henry Roth

80. The Radetzky March – Joseph Roth

81. Sabbath’s Theater – Philip Roth

82. Pedro Páramo – Juan Rulfo

83. Cain – José Saramago

84. The Stone Raft – José Saramago

85. The Emigrants – W. G. Sebald

86. Antony and Cleopatra – William Shakespeare

87. I Am a Cat – Natsume Sōseki

88. The Charterhouse of Parma – Stendhal

89. The Red and the Black – Stendhal

90. Zeno’s Conscience – Italo Svevo

91. View with a Grain of Sand – Wisława Szymborska

92. The Makioka Sisters – Tanizaki Jun’ichirō

93. A Woman of Means – Peter Taylor

94. Walden – Henry D. Thoreau

95. War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy

96. The Leopard – Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa

97. Virgin Soil – Ivan Turgenev

98. The Complete Henry Bech – John Updike

99. Selected Poems – César Vallejo

100. Bartleby & Co. – Enrique Vila-Matas

101. The Aeneid – Virgil

102. Jakob von Gunten – Robert Walser

103. To the Lighthouse – Virginia Woolf

104. The Story of the Stone – Cao Xueqin

105. The Post-Office Girl – Stefan Zweig