Books like By Night in Chile

Sordel, Sordello, which Sordello?‘Literature is like phosphorus,’ wrote Roland Barthes, ‘it shines with its maximum brilliance at the moment when it attempts to die.’ This view of literature existing at the precipice of the posthumous comes alive through Roberto Bolaño's Father Sebastian Urrutia and his deathbed confessions that make up the long night of By Night in Chile. Told in a single continuous paragraph—a style that hints with the flavor of Thomas Bernhard—Bolaño keeps the pressure and tension of his politically charged satire to a controlled maximum as if it were a horror novel while Urrutia takes us room by room through his haunted house of Chilean history. From his early days as a fledgling literary critic and poet spending time along with Pablo Neruda at the estate of Chile’s foremost critic, to travels in Europe and teaching Marxism in secret classes to the new regime, Urrutia attempts to rationalize his life and battles with his shame before the judgement of the shadowy ‘wizened youth’ that haunts him and his memories. Behind every curtain may wait a new horror, in every basement a sinister torture scene, yet these unspeakable terrors lurk just outside the candle-light of narrative, making them all the more sinister as we step along in the warm and surprisingly comical blaze. A perfect blend of all things Bolaño, By Night in Chile is a dazzling display of narrative that culminates upon the association and juxtaposition of seemingly separate elements to plunge a sharp dagger deep into the heart of Chile’s political climate. ‘That is how literature is made in Chile.’By Night in Chile is the blessed union of Bolaño’s prose and poetry. Each sentence coils and crawls smoothly and effortlessly like a satirical snake through gardens abloom in allegory and metaphor. The novel in a method similar to how a poem serves as a near-hallucinogenic impression of reality, residing in the Garden of comical and bizarre events that function like a translucent veil both masking and giving glimpses into the Fall and damnation lying just beyond our grasp. The episode of falcons being used to murder pigeons before they can cover the cathedrals in excrement is a masterpiece of situational comedy, but also a startling metaphor for the Pinochet regime hunting down and snuffing out any opposition to their own structure¹ Bolaño is an expert at embodying the essence of a place or person, often stacking details together that build towards an impression that takes the reader off-guard and instills a sense of bewilderment and wonder at the image being presented. Perhaps the most impressive aspect of Night, however, is the spirit of the short story—a form in which I find Bolaño to be at his best—and the episodic nature of the novel. Like walking through a nightmare, Urrutia recounts his life through swirling episodic reflections that blend into one the way a fever-dream seamlessly morphs from one notion to the next by riding a wave of emotion and produce a work greater than the parts of the whole through the way the episodes communicate and comment upon one another.‘My silences are immaculate.’While Urrutia, a member of a conservative priesthood Opus Dei which served fascist uprisings, has much to feel guilt over in his actions, it is his inactions that are most unbearable to him and the ‘wizened youth’. \ One has a moral obligation to take responsibilty for one’s actions, and that includes one’s words and silences, yes, one’s silences, because silences rise to heaven too, and God hears them, and only God understands and judges them, so one must be very careful with one’s silences. I am responsible in every way.\ The novel is much like jazz where the notes you don’t play are equally important to the ones that are played. Urrutia did his part, played his role and was never chastised for it. Even when he feared for his reputation after teaching the private lessons to Pinochet and his generals (a humorous sidenote is that the generals are far more concerned with the personal life of one attractive female theorist than her actual ideas), nobody seemed to care. However, it was his inability to stop it, to say no, to do anything to dam up the onslaught of history even for a moment that will serve as his everlasting personal tombstone. Similar to Urrutia is the young novelist Maria Canales² who wishes to be a integral part of the literary scene, hosting salons and mingling with all the poets and politicians. Like Urrutia who was able to turn a blind eye to the horrors around him, Canales ignored the political interrogations and tortures going on in her very own basement during her salons. ‘I would have been able to speak out but I didn't see anything,’ Maria tells him, ‘I didn't know until it was too late.’ Willfully neglecting reality, we will all wind up bemoaning our fates, dismissing our responsibility, and realizing it is too late for all of us. By remaining silent, we are essentially condoning the horrors.By Night in Chile is sure to haunt any reader who dare cross the threshold. A perfect elixer of all Bolaño's finest elements, this is a novel that dances and sways with the ethereal beauty of his poetry but punches with the raw intensity and eloquently abrasive power of his novels. History is making itself before our very eyes, and what are we doing to control the tides? Will we be a voice of reason, or simply march to the beat of whatever drum imposes itself. Will we get out alive, or will it be too late by the time we realize where we are. A frequent refrain echoing across the novel is critic Farewell’s line ‘Sordel, Sordello, which Sordello?’, dredging up Dante’s Sordello who was cast into purgatory for being unable to confess his sins before death. By Night in Chile is Urrutia’s feverish, disjointed confession, one that brings about the flames of hellfire in an attempt to avoid them. Bolaño's novel is full of pure rage and humor that never blinks or stands down. 4.5/5And then the storm of shit begins.¹It is interesting to note the names of the two gentlemen that recruit Urrutia for this mission are Mr. Raef and Mr. Etah. A simple reversal of the letters reveals the truth hiding within their power.² Maria Canales and her husband’s story finds inspiration in that of Michael Townley and Mariana Callejas, which bears a near resemlance to the version found in this book.I am highly indebted to a good friend for the full novel experience.****UPDATE 3/30/19***** On a recent re-read this book hit even harder than before. Particularly given our current political context, America aiding a fascist take-over of Chile (which, yes, actually happened) by using anti-socialist propaganda to embolden a militant nationalist base towards violence is quite chilling. What sticks most is that literature was always political, and that the aspects of being a critic that occurs in the novel is a sort of rhetoric control that helps shape a political landscape. What is essential to consider is that Urrutia is not a self-declared political activist in any way, but merely riding whatever wave will help him personally (financially, or for any form of power) and that his compliance is his damnation. Urrutia watches the political violence unfold as if he were a bystander, shrugging off responsibility without recognizing that his reluctance to take a stand is complicity. The wizened youth haunts him because deep down he knows that he has a share of the blame, that his lack of a voice against the violence is his Pontius Pilate moment of attempting to wash his hands. He literally educates Pinochet and his men with propaganda yet acts as if it were just a job and none of the fascist overthrow was his doing despite playing a key role in it all. Just following orders is never an excuse. The scenes with Canales, where Urrutia tries to differentiate himself from her own ignorance to complicity, is comical irony when we know that his condemnation of her is merely projection of his own guilt. Both were attempting to look out for themselves and let the undercurrents of political violence go on as long as it didn't interfere with their own lives, and Bolaño--through his hellish imagery and chocking atmosphere of horror--reminds us that this is as damnable as the actual violent perpetrators. History has its eye on us all, and we cannot enable evil by just being another doorway allowing it's progress.