>I don’t think I’m a slouch in reading books that can drag, lesser Joseph Heller novels, Murakamis 1Q84 are books that I have deeply enjoyed, but every time I pick up 2666 my brain begs me to put it back down. Clocking in at 1000 pages the book is purportedly about a mysterious serial killer in Mexico and a meditation on the nature of evil but if in my 300 pages of reading I’ve come across that I’d be hard pressed to tell you how.

Well the dryness may actually be the translation. I found him detached but not dry, not as if I were reading a history book, more almost hmmm, like a legend or something, glimpsed from old newspaper lines, a clouded view into something that leaves out as much as it takes in.

I think this perspective is most obvious when you get to the part with the Hungarian Fascist guy. To me, this was the lynchpin of the book. That despite the debonair and suave exterior that someone like your professors have, there is a rage and brutality that lurks within them, that makes them not unlike the very suave Hungarian fascist, who also has his own concealed rage. They have that thirst in them, even when they hide it. It is this kind of person who is somehow coddled and nurtured by the world, until he or she can come forth and make that rage bloom in some kind of act.