I put this down on a birthday list after reading 2666 last year.  It’s a strange, and strangely haunting, book.  I didn’t enjoy it as much as 2666 but I still found myself spellbound by Bolano’s weaving solid stories from gossamer.  The Savage Detectives basically tells the story of a couple of wandering poets, aimlessly criss-crossing the globe, as told by the people that they meet and leave behind.  But Bolano tells the stories of these people, about their lives, about what happens to them, and very little of that is influenced by either of the poets.  What happens to the poets themselves appears unimportant, even though they are the main focus of the book.  It’s a magical performance, but I suspect it wouldn’t be to everybody’s taste.
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