Roberto Bolaño and 'The Savage Detectives': A lament for lost youth

When The Savage Detectives was recommended to me, I'd never heard of it. I'd never heard of Roberto Bolaño either. When I was told that he was a Chilean author, and the book began in Mexico City 1975, I didn't believe that I would enjoy it. I've read some translated literature before- the short stories of Guy De Maupassant, Anton Chekhov, and poetry by Rimbaud, Neruda (my only previous encounter with Latin-American writing) and Frenaud. Whilst I've found great inspiration from a lot of this work (especially Maupassant, whose 19th century work could have been written last week), reading nearly 600 pages of fiction translated from Spanish seemed a daunting experience. With Neruda's poetry in particular, I've found some words and lines to jar slightly, that is, they are obviously literal translations of a Spanish phrase. It can make reading work like this less enjoyable, less spontaneous, and maybe a little more distant. Aside from this, mid 1970's Mexico was not a setting that I wanted to visit, or rather I felt that I didn't need to go there. So, perhaps slightly stubbornly, I didn't immediately set out to read The Savage Detectives.
     Last month, I came across a collection of Bolaño's short stories titled Last Evenings On Earth in a charity shop. What I read had me instantly hooked to Bolaño's unique and uncompromising way of writing.
     After that, I finally bought The Savage Detectives, acclaimed as 'the novel Borges might have written' and 'part road movie, part joyful, nostalgic confession'.
     Now, three hundred and twenty one pages in, I cannot recommend the book and Bolaño highly enough. The novel begins with a section called 'Mexicans Lost in Mexico' (where I got the blog name from, see?) and is written as a series of diary entries by aspiring 17 year old Mexican poet Garcia Madero. We are shown very early on is that he has been looking for sense of belonging in a place where 'literature is bread and water, sex and death'. He joins a group of fellow young poets who call themselves the 'visceral realists', and who set out to change Latin American poetry and politics. He meets two particularly important characters- Arturo Belano, who is possibly the author himself (a common trait of Bolaño's work), and Ulises Lima. Without revealing too much of the story, the narrative leaves Garcia Madero after 124 pages and becomes 'The Savage Detectives', a series of 'memoirs' from many different perspectives, including characters from the first section. The narrative crosses continents and so far has moved ten years on from the events of Garcia Madero's diary entries.
     What stands out here as one of Bolaño's greatest skills is the fleshed-out realism of his characters. Set in a world so far from my own, I still feel a connection to them. It might be pity for some, admiration or envy (even jealousy) of others whose lives revolve around literature. Bolaño's writing can be gritty and hard-hitting at times, but it is all presented in a very matter-of-fact way that is reminiscent of Hemingway. Characters often seem at odds with themselves, struggling to show their feelings. The same was true for the short stories of Last Evenings on Earth, which I now see as a blueprint or draft of The Savage Detectives.
     Further along the timline, there is a genuine feeling of nostalgia, and as more and more of these characters lives are shown to us, there is a growing sense that the youth, happiness and blissful ignorance that was abundant in 'Mexicans Lost in Mexico' is never recaptured. Accounts from one era are juxtaposed with  another from say 15 years before. There is also no mention so far of a character introduced in the first section, so I am now holding my own kind of 'where's Wally' hunt along the way, looking for clues that might show me where they are.
     I should also point out that the English translation, by Natasha Wimmer, is the best and most precise example of translated fiction I've ever read. I felt so close to the streets and laguage of mid-70's Mexico, yet I was never confused by their slang or insults. Creadit has to be given to Wimmer for taking on such a mammoth challenge and pulling it off brilliantly.
     Although I'm just over half way through the book and still have so much to discover, I feel like I have travelled back in time to places I've never been before. The Savage Detectives is so evocative, affecting and just bloody brilliant that I do not want to put it down. What may be viewed as Bolaño's masterpiece takes on love, sorrow, loss, joy, memory and passion. The result is a tragic and thought provoking insight into the politics and aspirations of a generation that was looking for it's place in the world. Maybe Mexico 1975 isn't so different from our own world.