Upon hearing the news (from me, multiple times) that I had completed Roberto Bolano’s massive postmodern novel, 2666, including the brutal Book 4, my friend Cory suggested that those who successfully finish such novels be conferred some sort of accolade. Specifically, he suggested a t-shirt. I think it’s a brilliant idea, and here’s why: I live in DC, a land of endless competition. People compete in school and professionally simply to have the opportunity to live and work here. Once they arrive, they compete against each other for promotions and new jobs as well as in less conventional competitive arenas, such as daycare waiting lists, membership in the best farm shares, and, most frequently, for restaurant reservations. Social groups in the District and environs are often organized around one’s alma mater; those who studied together now celebrate/mourn the achievements of their school’s football and/or basketball teams together (openly and notoriously and often during work hours).
By far, the most notorious manifestation of this competitive culture, however, is in the multiplicity of running events: the Marine Corps Marathon, the Army 10-Miler, etc., as well as a vast litany of lesser races, including 5K’s and various charity runs. Easily the most shocking visual cue to arise from all of this, and one with which any DC-area resident is familiar, is the sight of a stumbling marathoner post-race, wrapped in one of those shimmering, space-age blankets (because of their supposed salubrious benefits…), in clear need of electrolytes, rest, and several thousand calories. The post-race feeling of completion and fulfillment must be incredibly rewarding, one supposes, and well-deserved. I feel no sympathy for these doleful veterans, of course, as they’ve done this to themselves. Those who complete lesser, more humane races receive t-shirts for their efforts.
For those of us who have no interest in running a 5K, let alone a marathon, yet have masochistic tendencies, there must be some activity for which we can be similarly acknowledged. Reading postmodern novels is hard work requiring many hours of one’s time, much akin to the hours of training required to run a race. Sure, they are generally idle hours for the body, but hyper-active hours for the mind, though 2666 arguably provokes certain negative corporeal reactions. 2666 is the Bataan Death March of contemporary literature. There is a huge cast of characters, 95% of whom have no bearing on the exposition of the overarching plot (in short: find the brilliant, elusive novelist Benno von Arcomboldi, solve the serial killings of women in Santa Theresa, in Sonora state, northern Mexico), yet whose individual stories and those of related characters even further removed from the central plot are presented as though they will, hopefully, answer lingering questions about the central plot. It is a joke Bolano plays on his readers, cruelly and with abandon, at each and every turn. True, this desultory congeries of digressive narratives, in often beautiful and strikingly analytical prose, is rewarding in other ways, but sometimes, as a reader, one just wants to move it along already. No stronger is this impatience felt than in the polarizing Book 4, which describes at least half of the roughly 200 murders that have beset Santa Theresa in detail, like an adaptation of Homer’s Iliad with a contemporary understanding of anatomy. It is easily the most harrowing reading experience I’ve ever had. On balance, there are roughly as many rewards as there are frustrating digressions and scenes of horrific violence…but, oh, the digressions.
So, I, like a triumphant if sickly-looking marathoner, emerge from this experience, bedraggled and yet victorious, and I search around for some sort of acknowledgement of my distinctive achievement. I think the t-shirt above is a good start. Of course, this applies to other, similar novels, modernist, post-modernist, realist, romantic, etc. They must be of appreciable length (700-page minimum). The t-shirt reward kicks in as soon as you declare your achievement. There will be no tests - we are on the honor system. Oh, and this isn’t exclusive to individual achievement. I could, perhaps, make Bloom’s Day t-shirts for a group reading of Ulysses next summer.
I start 1Q84 as soon as I get back to DC.
