Bolaño, Roberto
By Night In Chile
Well, I may have fooled myself. There's still a bookmark in this book and it is only about halfway through. I may not have read the whole thing. In fact, I think I stopped reading it. Looking at it again, I remember having started reading. I remember some of the story. I remember that the whole book is a single, 130-page paragraph. I will read it. Really, I will.
It begins:
I am dying now, but I still have many things to say. I used to be at peace with myself. Quiet and at peace. But it all blew up unexpectedly. That wizened youth is to blame. I was at peace. I am no longer at peace.
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