Anyway, these ideas or feelings or ramblings had their own satisfactions. They turned the pain of others into memories of one's own. They turned pain, which is natural, enduring, and eternally triumphant, into personal memory, which is human, brief and eternally elusive. They turned a brutal story of injustice and abuse, an incoherent howl with no beginning or end, into a neatly structured story in which suicide was always held out as a possibility. They turned flight into freedom, even if freedom meant no more than the perpetuation of flight. They turned chaos into order, even if it was at the cost of what is commonly known as sanity.
- Roberto Bolano, 2666
Reading Bolano is a bit like swigging 15-year old scotch straight from the bottle. It's perverse and exhilarating and you come away from it with your head buzzing, your mouth taut and a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. In other words, an experience not to be missed.