A few weeks (months?) ago, I had the good fortune to be asked to join Claire from Kiss A Cloud, Claire from Paperback Reader, and Nymeth from Things Mean A Lot in a little group read-along of Love by Toni Morrison. I was thrilled for the opportunity because Toni Morrison is an author whom I feel I can always stand to read more of, but rarely feel confident enough to do so on my own prodding. Still, I’ve dutifully gone out and procured as many copies of her various books that I can find (my only requirement being that they are not horrifically ugly, because there are some less than covet-worthy editions of her books floating about out there) during my frequent bookstore visits. I then proceed to stockpile these books, happy in the knowledge that I have more Toni Morrison ahead of me. But of course, books are meant to be read, and it’s always good when others remind me of this, so this was the push I needed to get back on the Morrison love train (no pun intended, as I didn’t capitalize the “L” in “love”).

I’m not sure that if given my own druthers that Love would have been the next Morrison I would have attempted, simply because I still haven’t read Beloved, which is Morrison’s masterpiece and I know I need to read it. So I always say it will be my next read, and then, well, as you can see, it isn’t! That said, I’m really glad that I did read Love because it was a really interesting and compelling novel, and it certainly broadened my notion of who Toni Morrison is as an author in several ways.

I’m sure there are people out there who read Toni Morrison novels for plot, but I don’t think I’m really one of them. Don’t get me wrong – she writes a mean story with all the requisite parts, but for me, reading Morrison has always been all about the writing and the ideas. Still, I suppose if you’re going to talk about the actual story, Love might be your best bet, since it’s certainly the most conventional (or perhaps traditional is a better word?) of the three Morrison novels I’ve read to date. Love is, of course, first and foremost, a love story. It takes place in one of those little seaside towns where everybody knows each other’s business and family’s go generations back. One of the things that gave this town its prominence during its heyday was Bill Cosey’s hotel, which was one of the most prosperous and popular holiday spots, regardless of the color of the owner’s (or his clienteles’) skin. Cosey’s long dead, but the women who gravitated around him during his life still haunt his home, all of them but hollow husks of their former selves. At the center of this axis of obsession spin Christine, Cosey’s granddaughter, and Heed, Cosey’s second widow, locked in a seemingly tireless feud as to who will ultimately wield the power of Cosey’s estate. The years have not been kind to either woman, as a bond once pure has curdled into something hard and sour. Both are fixated on one upping the other and being named victorious, but it’s clear time is running out for both. It won’t be long before they are each reunited with Cosey…

The first thing that struck me about Love was how straightforward (more or less) the plot seemed. Yes, there was some initial confusion as narrators switch and the backstory behind Heed and Christine’s feud is doled out slowly and not necessarily in chronological order, so there is some piecing together of parts, turning them about in your mind so you can figure out how they all fit together. Such is the joy of reading a Morrison novel. But for me, I felt that this jigsaw puzzle was less complicated than previous novels like A Mercy and Song of Solomon, in part because the central conceit of a love story seemed to simplify things. I suppose I don’t really equate Morrison novels with notions of lover spats and jealous rages, so to find that was the distilled essence of this novel (regardless of the title) was surprising. I just thought the story was largely rather simple, though by this I do not mean it was not complicated.

I think the thing that is most surprising about this book is that for a novel entitled Love, it is a book that feels quite cold at times and often seems to be poking and the dark bits of human beings that seem the polar opposite of love. Initially there is so much mistrust and anger coursing through the book, that you would be hard pressed to find the love story in it. But then again, there is Toni Morrison for you, because as much as love can restore and nourish, it can clearly take on a destructive power that is not always positive. Certainly that is the reading one would take if one focused on the relationship between Heed and Christine in relation to Cosey. But I think the central love relationship is the one between those two women with each other, how their relationship morphed over time and the roles between the two slowly reversed. How all their rage stemmed from the worry they had lost one another to Cosey and he had supplanted each woman in the other’s heart. I can’t say why, but I just think it was infinitely more interesting for Morrison to have the story pivot around these two women, rather than have it be a more straightforward love story between a man and a woman. As much as I believe Morrison can write with beauty and grace, it felt more rewarding to have her plunge into murkier depths and provide us with a dark and sad story with love at its core.

Reading Love was kind of like reading a Margaret Atwood novel and reminded me at times of Richard Russo’s Empire Falls. It was like no Toni Morrison novel I’ve ever read before, both in terms of its construction and as well as the writing. While still lyrical and poetic, the prose felt much more accessible and far less hazy than other bits of Morrison’s writing I’ve encountered in the past. For that reason, I’d say people who are generally intimidated by Morrison might be well-advised to start here, but then again, I’m not sure that I feel it’s completely representative of the what you’re likely to experience when reading any of her other books. That said, ever book by Morrison that I’ve encountered has had it’s own unique signature to it, and I’d be hard pressed to confuse any of the books by her that I’ve read. Perhaps she’s one of those insanely gifted writers who is able to morph her style with every piece she writes, her own canon an ever-evolving testament to her prowess. That actually sounds about right to me. If writing were a professional sport, I’d always put my money on Morrison being the one to beat. Every time I read something by her, she challenges me to reconsider my own notions of what the limitations on fiction can be. I love the way I feel when I’m reading a Toni Morrison novel; it always feels like reading in its purest form, where language is unadulterated and unfettered.

This is probably the first novel I’ve read by Morrison where I felt like I largely grasped its important concepts the first time through, but even with that in mind, I’m sure I’d still benefit from re-reading it again in the future. But for now, I’ll go see what my fellow readers took away from this volume and look forward to my next encounter with Morrison, now with a lighter heart. Also, special thanks to my co-readers, Claire, Claire & Nymeth for having me along for the ride!

Rating: 4 out of 5

First, I need to start off by apologizing for being so late to the party with this section. July was an incredibly hectic month for us over here at Steph & Tony Investigate in real life, what with getting married, so I kind of let my reading slide for a while… and then when I knew I should be picking up 2666 and tackling Part Three, I kind of just didn’t have it in me. I know, I know, I’ve been a terrible co-hostess, but thank you so much to Claire for taking one for the team and rounding up all of your thoughtful and insightful reflections on “The Part About Fate”. I think as we’re about to see, you all came up with a lot more than I did with respect to this section…

So, what to say about this section? Well, as I mentioned above, I was really dragging my heels when it came to getting around to actually reading this part, and I attribute this largely to Section Two. If you recall, I found Section Two really aimless and I didn’t get a lot out of it, and I really felt like it sapped my momentum and eagerness to keep reading 2666. If it were not for the read-along, I probably would have stopped reading after Section Two, so little was my interest in continuing this massive tomb, especially if it were more in the vein of Section Two, which really felt was impenetrable.

As for Part Three, I did find it more accessible than its predecessor. I found the story about Oscar Fate pretty engaging and interesting (I would have read more about him!), and it was gratifying to finally feel some connections between the parts (since everyone is being drawn to Santa Teresa, and Amalfitano & his daughter have now made appearances in multiple parts)… but that being said, I still have to say that I didn’t get much out of this section. I’m sorry, but it’s true! Upon finishing Part Three, I think I am more confused than ever about what the purpose of 2666 is as a work. By this I mean that I don’t know if Bolaño was just writing a romping tale involving grisly murders, or whether he meant it to be more philosophical and esoteric in nature? I’m sure many of you consider it to be a combination of the two, and maybe that is the case, I just feel like I’m not getting as much as I would like from either of these elements. If it is meant to be largely plot-driven, I am having issues because I feel like I read a lot about things that happen or how things are, but I don’t see why any of these details are important. Like for instance, as much as I thought Oscar Fate was an interesting character, I don’t know what I was supposed to get out of his story at all, and apart from the two things I mentioned above, I don’t see how his story really builds on the previous 300 pages we’ve read thus far. I do to a small degree, since we hear about the murders so much, and Amalfitano ominously tells us that everyone is wrapped up in them, but… did I really read that entire section just for that revelation, which may not in fact come to anything? And as for the themes and ideas, well, I just really didn’t see what thematically seemed to be an extension of ideas presented in earlier parts. Pretty much, my experience when I read this book is that I finish a section and I go, “Aaaaannnd?” I feel like I’ve had a whole platter of events thrown at me, but I don’t know what to make of any of them. I feel like I haven’t received a complete story, or at the very least, the one I have is very disjointed.

While at times I have found reading 2666 to be a bit of a chore, there were elements of Part Three that I did like. I was interested in the Oscar character, and found the description of the boxing culture to be pretty engaging. But I was left wanting more and feeling dissatisfied. I am not confident that everything will coalesce and make sense come Part 5, since I know that the next part is just a laundry list of all the women murdered (and how)… I keep feeling like this really wasn’t a book that was finished before it was published. That parts are still quite rough around the edges and Bolaño would have been well-served with just a little more time to perhaps trim bits here and there, perhaps polish up some parts. I think the writing is fine, but I haven’t found it breathtaking or arresting if I’m completely honest. It is evocative, I felt I had a clear picture of what was occurring as I read, I got the feel of Mexico, but I haven’t flagged any passages for re-reading or anything like that.

Ultimately, while I found Part Three an improvement over Part Two, I still feel like I didn’t get much out of it, both in terms of elucidation and enjoyment; I am glad that we are giving ourselves a month to read each section, as the breaks are definitely helpful, as I think if I were to try to read the entire book in one go, I would certainly experience major burn out. I am glad to read that I’m in the minority here, since most people seem to have really enjoyed Part Three, but alas so far 2666 seems to be a book that I don’t really get. I will continue on and hope that eventually things begin to make more sense for me!  And as always, thanks to all of my co-readers whose thoughtful reflections on each part have given me much to consider (as well as lament, since I don’t see half of what everyone else does! ).

P.S. Why didn’t anyone else mention the graphic sex video described to us in this section? Or did someone and I just blocked it out (as if I could! I’ve tried!)?

Other (Much More Insightful) Thoughts:

• Claire @ Kiss a Cloud (my co-host!)
• Richard @ Caravan de Recuerdos
• Frances @ Nonsuch Book
• Emily @ Evening All Afternoon
• Jackie @ Farm Lane Books
• Gavin @ Page 247
• Lu @ Regular Rumination
• E.L. Fay @ This Book & I Could Be Friends

Meh.  This part of the ubernovel, 2666, may have been the shortest, but I also felt it was far less rewarding and rich compared to Part One.  We delve into the world of Amalfitano, a Chilean whom the scholars in the last part met briefly, first chronicling his relationship with his wife (and her obsession with a poet who has been committed to an asylum), and then focusing on Amalfitano’s own mounting obsession with a mysterious geometry textbook (yes, you read that correctly).  At 60 some odd pages, this section lent itself to a quick read, but I didn’t feel I got much out of it.

First, I didn’t feel like this second part was a natural extension or progression of part one.  It didn’t seem to further any of the plot points that occurred in The Part About the Critics, but moreover, it didn’t appear to deal with any of the same themes either.  Well, that’s not strictly true – I suppose we see the notion of pursuit highlighted once more, as Lola sets out to find the mad poet and ingratiate herself into his life, but that was about the only part that felt like an echo of earlier parts of 2666.  But even if we consider that perhaps Bolaño meant these parts to stand more on their own, I still felt this wasn’t all that successful, because it seemed to be divided into the Lola section and the Geometry Book section, and these two sections felt disparate from one another as well.  Not sure how the two reflect upon one another, but then again, I’m not entirely sure what the section regarding the geometry book was supposed to be about at all.  I admit, I like the quirky idea of hanging a book outside oneself to withstand the elements as best it can, but did I have any idea what it was meant to symbolize?  No.  I mentioned in my last wrap-up that I wasn’t confident that Part One could truly stand on its own, that it told a complete story, and that is definitely even more true for this section.

In the end, I’m glad this section was short because I didn’t really get much out of it.  I don’t know if the gap between finishing Part One and taking up Part Two caused me to sort of lose my 2666 rhythm, but the charm wasn’t there for me when reading this part.  Even if I only found the moments of wit and humor intermittent with Part One, I found those elements mostly absent here.  I wouldn’t say Part Two was boring so much as it was befuddling.  I’m not sure what Bolaño was trying to achieve here, but in my eyes, all the elements didn’t coalesce very well in this section.  Maybe if given the chance, Bolaño would have gone back and smoothed some of the rough edges?  I think this section could definitely have befitted from some serious authorial massaging.  Hopefully the next part picks back up!

Other thoughts on Part Two:

• Claire @ Kiss A Cloud
• Jackie @ Farm Lane Books
• Gavin @ Page247
• J.S. Peyton @ BiblioAddict
• Richard @ Caravana de Recuerdos
• Emily @ Evening All Afternoon
• E.L. Fay @ This Book & I Could Be Friends
• Lu @ Regular Rumination
• More to come…

Also, if you need more incentive, check out some of the insightful posts other members of the read-along posted last month on Part One.  Everyone seemed to pick up on something slightly different, and it was really edifying to apply their ideas to my own reading of the text.  This is definitely a book best shared and discussed with others!

• My fellow co-host, Claire, @ kiss a cloud
• Emily @ Evening All Afternoon
• Jackie @ Farm Lane Books
• Lu @ Regular Rumination
• E.L. Fay @ This Book And I Could Be Friends
• Gavin @ Page 247
• Richard @ Caravan De Recuerdos

Let the criticism begin!

Full Disclosure: I finished reading this section a few weeks ago so that I could mull over questions and thoughts to pose to fellow readers… only I didn’t really write anything down, so my impressions of this section are not as sharp and clear as they might have been a few weeks ago, when I probably should have written this post.  Oh well, if I seem tentative or like I’m futzing about, we’ll consider it an exercise in style and homage to Bolaño himself.  At least I’ll have 4 more attempts to get this right! Also, I want to emphasize that Claire and I are using this opportunity to make 2666 a more communal reading experience, but people are free to read at their own pace.  We’re reading one section per month, and ask that you try to post your thoughts on each section within each month… But of course if you fall behind, that’s completely fine and we still want to hear what you thought!  If you haven’t started but would like to join along, please feel free!  Just post a comment at the bottom of this post linking to your review of Part One, and I’ll be sure to link to it.  And for people who already said they were going to read along, if I haven’t included your review but it’s been posted (or you post after I’ve published this), please do the same and I’ll be sure to add you to this round-up!

When I think back on this first part of 2666, the thing that sticks out to me was how much I didn’t hate it!  That sounds strange, I know, given that I elected to host this read-along with Claire, but I really feared going into the belly of the beast (or at this point, the maw… the belly is yet to come, I think!).  I worried that I would really dislike the book.  From what I had read about the book during the 2009 Tournament of Books, it did not at all sound like a book I would enjoy, since the two commentators over at The Morning News found the book bloated, boring, sexist, homophobic, and generally a mess.  I worried the book would be pretentious and unapproachable, but seeing that I already had a copy of it in my apartment, I knew I had to at least give it a shot before excising it from my life; it was only fair.  Enter Claire whose enthusiasm to read the book was almost infectious, and I decided that maybe if I had a buddy going into this read, maybe if I didn’t commit myself to exclusively reading the book non-stop until it or I was done, that would be the best way to tackle it.  And thus, a read-along was born.

I found “The Part About The Critics” to be a pretty engaging and enjoyable section.  I loved that it focused on books and scholars, and that there was an undercurrent of a mystery story gradually pulling it along.  At first I couldn’t keep the characters straight, but I kept with it, and eventually sheer repetition of their names and nationalities allowed me to differentiate them.  Much has already been said by my fellow readers about Bolaño’s writing and attention to detail (sometime the mundane), but one thing I thought I would mention is that sometimes I felt this attention was misplaced.  That is, he goes into the details of how many times someone’s name was said in a conversation or what floors everyone was staying on, and yet I felt his characterization and development of his characters was lacking.  I felt we were dealing more with caricatures than actual people, and many of their motivations were either very shallow or opaque to me.  I felt the two younger male scholars were essentially interchangeable (what made the Frenchman any different from the Spaniard, save for his lengthier sexual stamina?), the older Italian scholar a simple father/teacher figure – sick and lonely, and the female figure was mostly indecisive and promiscuous, a vessel for the male trio’s sexual urges.  I suppose I simply didn’t feel like I knew or understood these characters very well, and while leaving certain things hidden in shadows and unaddressed can allow your readers to build their own stories, to spin their own hypotheses and theories, this shift in emphasis away from the people in the story was a bit strange to me.  Perhaps it is just a sign that 2666 is more a book of ideas than it is of people?

Despite minimal characterization, I did enjoy Bolaño’s writing and prose in this section.  A few parts were completely mystifying to me (Claire was enamored with the dreams that peppered Part One, but I didn’t know what to make of them!), and sometimes I felt portions dragged, but by and large I found this part to be interesting and, unexpected to me, very playful.  I hadn’t expected Bolaño to display such wit and humor – sometimes I found myself smirking as I read a passage where Bolaño was being quite cheeky or poking fun at one of his characters.  I thought the humor added important levity to the part, which could get quite dark and ponderous at times.  I also think there were times where the characters behave cluelessly or in a frustrating way, and it was always gratifying when Bolaño seemed to be nudging and winking at the reader, letting them know that we weren’t meant to take everything with the utmost solemnity.  I also liked that he seemed to call scholarly obsession into question, pointing out how absurd some of these conferences can become – the debates and discussions that arise, how obscure people’s theses can become, how these questions only ignite the passions of a select few, how obsession can take people out into the deserts of Mexico and leave them stranded, all in the pursuit of something that may not even exist.

I do think that there is a lot in this first part that could be explored in more depth, and I also feel like this section could withstand multiple re-readings.  I think certain themes may have begun to arise, but it will be hard to say without reading on.  I think we see that this section deals with the notion of pursuit – the scholars pursue Archimboldi, the men pursue Liz, people are traveling back and forth almost nonstop from one country to the next.  There is also the issue of the severed hand made art, which I have a hard time understanding… does it represent an intermingling of the grotesque and the divine (from something ugly, art is made?) – certainly other readers have remarked on the potential comingling of violence and sexuality in Bolaño’s work.  Or might it represent sacrifice in the face of passion – the artist literally gives himself over to his work?  I’ve heard that later parts of the book make elements of this first part clearer, so perhaps it is best to withhold speculation until I’ve learned a bit more!  To that end, I’m not sure that I feel this section could successfully stand on its own.  Finishing it, I wanted to immediately start reading the next section so I could get shed a little more light on what was going on!

One thing that did strike me about this section, though no one else has touched on it yet, was Bolaño’s approach to sexuality.  I have to admit that there were elements that did feel misogynistic and homophobic, and they made me uneasy.  I do think certain elements are meant to be tongue in cheek, but of course this means the author relies on the reader being sufficiently enlightened to catch the irony in his statements rather than innocently embracing them all.  Also, I struggle with how I feel about an author that has elements of misogyny and homophobia in his writing, even if there is a joking vibe about some of it.  Does that make it ok, if you mask you controversial/distasteful material as though it’s not meant to be taken seriously? There is an undeniable machismo running through this section, as evidenced by all the discussion of the libidinal prowess of the two young male scholars (“he could have fucked all night…”) and also in their attack on the London cabbie.  Many have wondered at that scene, but I really saw it as yet another manifestation of these primal, male, dark urges… their sexual desires have thus for been subverted by Liz, and thus they assert their masculinity by destroying another man.  I’d really like to know how other readers felt about the issues of sexuality, and the way Bolaño represents women in his novel.

So, for me this wasn’t a perfect read as there were things that made me uncomfortable and that I think could become problematic in later books, BUT I’m really eager to read Book Two, and I hope all of my fellow readers are too!  I think there was more good than bad here, and I found Part One to be a surprisingly good read.   A few questions and then I’ll direct you to my fellow 2666 readers!

•    Did you feel this section could stand alone as its own published work?
•    What did you like best about this section?  What did you like least?
•    Any surprises for you as a reader thus far?
•    Hazard a guess and tell me what you think Bolaño’s getting at in Part One. (not really a question… oh well)
•    How have you responded to Bolaño’s take on sexuality and violence?  Do you feel the cab scene was an isolated incident or does it foreshadow things to come?
•    Can anyone make sense of the numerous dream sequences for me?

Other thoughts on Part One:

• My fellow co-host, Claire, @ kiss a cloud
• Emily @ Evening All Afternoon
• Jackie @ Farm Lane Books
• Lu @ Regular Rumination
• E.L. Fay @ This Book And I Could Be Friends
• Gavin @ Page 247
• Richard @ Caravan De Recuerdos
• More to come…

So far, here are the people joining us:

• Christina @ Jackets & Covers
• Jackie @ Farm Lane Books
• Emily A
• nateG @ Confounded Racket
• Gavin @ Page247
• Vasilly @ 1330v
• Frances @ Nonsuch Book
• Chris @ Stuff As Dreams Are Made On…
• Emily @ Evening All Afternoon
• Richard @ Caravana de Recuerdos
• E.L. Fay @ This Book And I Could Be Friends
• and maybe Rebecca @ Rebecca Reads

So come on and join us!  You want to be one of the cool kids, right?

In other news, sorry for the dearth of updates recently.  I was away at an academic conference (where we discovered the answer to “how many vision scientists with iPhones does it take to select a restaurant for dinner?” is in fact “3″) and enjoying some serious beach time in Naples, Florida.  But I’m back in drizzly Nashville once more, and will attempt to get my reading (and updating) back on track.  I lugged along A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth for my trip – all 1400 pages of it! – but have yet to break 500 pages.  I know many of you out there have read this beast before – would you say the latter half of the book moves more swiftly than the first half?  I enjoy the parts that deal with the interpersonal relationships between the characters, specifically the bollywood-style scandals and romantic intrigues, but I must confess I’m totally bored when I wind up in sections dealing with civil uprisings, shoemaking, and Hindu/Muslim conflicts.  I generally don’t tackle books that are so long, so my interest is beginning to wane; is it worth sticking with this one?

If you’re interested in participating, leave a comment below.  We’re still ironing out how to do the wrap-up at the end of the month.  In part, I think it iwll depend on how many people are participating.  Feel free to start the book anytime during the month of May.  This is really a ” do as you please” read-along!