This picture was taken – as more and more of them will be – by my five year old daughter, as we grocery shopped. She’s pretty sly with the candid shots. I can tell you exactly what I was thinking when she took this one: what were we thinking coming to the grocery store at this time of day we’re never getting out of here; and 2666? 2666. 2666 2666 2666 (or something to that effect, with the accompanying outreaching thoughts about the writing, the story, etc.)
Not a lot of particularly insightful thoughts to share thus far; reading along, enjoying it, and suddenly realized I was in the middle of the 5-page sentence written about (and shared) elsewhere. I found myself compelled to read it nonstop, like I was competing against Bolaño, or maybe against the world and my own attention span, to read it straight through. I was successful, but probably only because my kids weren’t around and we weren’t at the overcrowded grocery store. Do you get those people who push their cart out into the middle of the aisle, blocking it entirely, and then stare vacantly off into space, as though hypnotized or completely confused? Probably not, because they’re all at my grocery store, every time we go there. Gridlock.
On a related note, The New Yorker‘s got a Bolaño short story as of today.