21 March 2010

2666, double mirrors, and Borges


Having reread the first two parts of 2666, I’m reviewing my notes on it so far. I reiterate the conjecture on Borges’s direct influence on Bolaño with regard to the role of nightmares and dreams in the book. It is certain that Bolaño was influenced by Borges’s ideas on dreams, derived from Groussac and Coleridge and other poets. In the lecture of Borges on "Nightmares" (from the book Seven Nights, and also collected in Everything and Nothing), Borges mentioned that, although we might wish otherwise, in dreams what is important is not the images but the impressions produced by them: "The images are minor; they are effects." And also two ideas: first, dreams are part of waking life; and the other idea, the splendid one, the belief of the poets: that all of waking is a dream. Borges then mentioned that there is no difference between these two ideas. He gave some brilliant examples from literature and if I recall it right, an example in real life. Borges ended this lecture, first delivered in Argentina, with a speculation about the particular horror of nightmares, which is beyond the horror of the waking life, and which can be expressed by any story, a horror that has something more to it (the flavor of the nightmare).

Borges’s theological/supernatural speculation at the end of his lecture is also scary: "What if nightmares were cries from hell? What if nightmares literally took place in hell? Why not? Everything is so strange that even this is possible."

I think that these hypotheses by Borges are what Bolaño borrowed as frameworks for the dreams and nightmares permeating 2666. Nightmares as a reflection of the waking life ("reality"). Nightmares impinging on real lives.

A proof of this was the conspicuous image of the two mirrors which was both present in Liz Norton's hotel room in Mexico (in reality) and in her dream. It was clearly a nod to Borges who included this image in his story "The Aleph" and also in the above-mentioned lecture on nightmares itself where Borges said that all it takes are two mirrors to construct a labyrinth.

In Norton's room there were two mirrors instead of one. The first mirror was by the door, as it was in the other rooms. The second was on the opposite wall, next to the window overlooking the street, hung in such a way that if one stood in a certain spot, the two mirrors reflected each other.

This was how the double mirrors were described (in reality) and their vivid reappearance in Norton's nightmare made them more significant. Later on she wrote about them in a letter to the other two critics Pelletier and Espinoza ("I remember I thought about the hotel. In my room at the hotel there were two very odd mirrors that frightened me the last few days. When I felt myself dropping off, I barely had the strength to reach out and turn off the light.")

In "The Aleph" Borges suggested a metaphysical meaning for the mirrors:

Each thing (the glass surface of a mirror, let us say) was infinite things, because I could clearly see it from every point in the cosmos. I saw the populous sea, saw dawn and dusk, saw the multitudes of the Americas, saw a silvery spiderweb at the center of a black pyramid, saw a broken labyrinth (it was London), saw endless eyes, all very close, studying themselves in me as though in a mirror, saw all the mirrors on the planet (and none of them reflecting me), … saw in a study in Alkmaar a globe of the terraqueous world placed between two mirrors that multiplied it endlessly ...

After seeing a lot of images aside from the mirrors, "The Aleph" ended the passage thus: "I wept, because my eyes had seen that secret, hypothetical object whose name has been usurped by men but which no man has ever truly looked upon: the inconceivable universe. Near the end of "The Part About the Crimes" the image of the two mirrors recurs. There was an indication that the labyrinth created by the two mirrors contains the evil reflected in reality. That the book was a dying man's attempt to articulate the inconceivable universe in nightmares which come alive in dreams and in waking life.

Reading literature is a dangerous occupation


I'm trying to get back on track with the 2666 Group Read that is unfolding over at Las Obras de Roberto Bolaño. I've been avidly following along for the first several weeks but has unfortunately fallen by the wayside. I don't know. I got sidetracked when I started with "The Part About Fate." The L'Etranger-like beginning of that part got to me. Coming on the heels of the dissembling Amalfitano, I just find it so sad. I may already have withdrawal symptoms. I'm pretty sure I will not be picking this book up again (cover to cover) in the future.

I've read 2666 the past year and was just consumed by it. This time around, the same species of horror (hardly more understandable) creeps into the page and it's hard to look at its writhing form.

Let me just say kudos to the theme trackers of the group read. Their thematic explorations are a big help to the floundering reader. Their tenacious readings and courage allow one to form ideas and impressions on the book and on what Roberto may be up to. I find this whole group read experience a meaningful exercise. I'm not giving up. I'll pick "Fate" up again and get back to the main blog site and the discussions. I know I will trudge through again some of the evil deeds of the twentieth and the present centuries. I know that at the same time I will be treated with the consolation of the raw power of writing. Literature is a dangerous occupation, says Roberto. So is reading it, maybe.

14 March 2010

"Ang Pangamba ng Makatang Nakapiit at Di-Makasulat ng Tula" (Axel Pinpin)


The Predicament of a Poet Incarcerated and Unable to Write a Poem

If the poetry-maker is dream,
his illusions are well-versed in that routine,
in half-sleep the dream is alive, resting
between freshness of memories
and nearness to truth of colors,
                 scurries,
                     scurrilous verses,
                         versed songs.
The colors of his hopes are singing.

But the poetry-maker is not dream,
the poet awakens in chains,
                                                   in haste
to escape the pull of hiss-hitch-heat
which dissects the pith of fury and hate,
the fitfulness to truth of techniques,
                 tactics,
                     counter-magic,
                         praxis and tricks.
The geometry of his experience is practical.

August 20, 2006



- translated from Filipino, from Axel Pinpin's Tugmaang Matatabil (Southern Voices Printing Press, 2008)

06 March 2010

"Ang Tula Ko Ay Hindi Ako" (Axel Pinpin)


I Am Not My Poetry
by Axel Pinpin

I am not my poetry.
My poetry is unlaurelled, ungroomed in Barong Tagalog.
My own voice is not my own poetry.
My poetry is not a canvas of color, odor, shape or music.

My poetry neither fits into figures of speech
nor rhymes with the passages of mysteries.
It’s neither as free as fantasies in flight
nor as wild as lovely illusions.

My poetry lacks for love and love-making.
It is tone deaf and is ignorant of creative writing.
My poetry is lacking in playful wordplay.
Indifferent to the terror and tingle of meaning.

I am a poet with no self-made lines.
I am a poet who gatecrashes, impoverished.
I am a poet starkly starving, broken and destitute.
I am a poet begging for your alms of true lives.
I am a poet forgotten in the muck of poetics.

I am the poetry of the poet they can never recite.
I am the poet of poetry that they will never recite.
I am the poet, beginning and ending in poetry.

September 5, 2007


translated from Filipino
from Tugmaang Matatabil (Southern Voices Printing Press, 2008)

02 March 2010

The last infrarrealista

While searching for "infrarrealismo" in Google, I happened upon a cool sketch of Roberto Bolaño in deviantart. I was looking for the text of his manifesto of the infrarealist poetry movement. Excerpts of the manifesto in English were quoted in many reviews of RB’s books. The only complete English translations that I found online were in two sites.


Photobucket


I liked the doble cara representation of Roberto as a mythological cult figure and as a serious writer. The decadent poet and the dying novelist, so to speak. I’ve adopted it as the group avatar for our Bolaño group in Shelfari.

As for the poetry movement that inspired vicerealism, I found it odd that the main page has gone extinct? Surely it was not just because the "last infrarrealista" no longer walked the jungles of this Earth?

In any case, I just relish Roberto's excerpted poem (in English translation by Erica Mena) in Words Without Borders. I'm just a bit disappointed that the whole poem was not posted online. I can't wait to read the entire sequence, and the entire "Three" collection.