Buika sings "Ciudades" in a way that pays tribute to a famous song yet delivers it as if it had never been sung before. It's impossible to describe the fire with which she sings "Y mi alma completa/se me cubrio de hielo" ("And my whole soul was covered in ice").In "Vámonos" ("Let's Go"), the last, perfect close of El Ultimo Trago, the lyrics speak of love defiant in the midst of difference, redolent with the clash of class, race, and passion:
from John Timpane: The Philadelphia Inquirer: Buika's unifying mix of the muses
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New Directions is pumping out the shorter Bolaño. Of the titles considered here, Monsieur Pain (first published in Spanish in 1982) and Antwerp (1980, published in Spanish in 2002) are novels (sort of), the other two collections of tales.
I remember when the story "The Insufferable Gaucho" appeared in the New Yorker. Within days, three friends weighed in. One loved it, something about "the whole world it creates" and "how much you sort of like the main character" but "how nothing really gets figured out." The next person said something like, "The New Yorker is printing anything these days--that was just terrible, a waste of my time." The third: "Please tell me what is going on and why I should like this."
I can't do the last two things, but I can speak of why I like this story.
from John Timpane: The Philadelphia Inquirer: Tales by Chilean master of malaise
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