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61 pages 2 hours read

Roberto Bolano

2666

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2004

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Themes

Hidden Evil Within Society

2666 explores a hidden evil that lurks within society at the end of the 20th century in the form of femicide in Santa Teresa, Mexico. The novel is divided into five parts, each focusing on a different set of characters at different points in time. There is an overlap between the characters and their interests, but they are unified through their draw to the city of Santa Teresa, Mexico, which is swept up in a spree of murders. Hundreds of women are killed by men, and their bodies are found in the desert. There is no real explanation for Santa Teresa’s femicide epidemic. The different parts of the novel interact and engage with these murders and the hidden evil they represent, but they do not explain, diagnose, or halt the violence. For most people in Santa Teresa, the murders have become a part of life. The murders cannot be understood in any meaningful sense, so people have accepted their existence as a fundamental aspect of their lived reality. The hidden evil manifests as murder against women and, since this evil is obfuscated and impossible to understand, the murders are seemingly unstoppable, creating an atmosphere of menace.

Santa Teresa is a notable example of the hidden evil in societies in the late 20th century, but it is not unique. Hans Reiter, or Archimboldi, grows up as the Nazis ascend to power in Germany. He fights in World War II and is vaguely aware of the persecution of Jewish people, even if the word “Holocaust” is never used in the novel. Hans, and Germans like him, know about the violence against and mass murder of Jewish people. Hans even has nightmares about killing individual Jews. He can only understand the Holocaust from a limited perspective, however, as he is unwilling to engage with the broader evil at the heart of Nazi Germany. Hans fights for the Nazis and is awarded the Iron Cross for bravery. Even though he fights for Germany, he is unable to discern the truth about what is happening in Germany beyond his own experience. The evil of the Holocaust is obfuscated, even as society collapses around him. In the one instance of Hans being explicitly aware of the persecution of Jews, he strangles the man who speaks to it: He quiets the one man who tried to peel back the veil and reveal the hidden evil of society. Hans then vanishes into obscurity, hiding himself amid the alienated smear of the late-20th century to forget his complicity in the Nazi war machine.

By the 1990s, the novel suggests, society is rotting from the inside out. The hidden evil—the violence, the prejudice, and the alienation—have been allowed to fester for so long that everything is falling apart. After the war, Hans lives in a building that is in a state of constant collapse, symbolizing the physical and metaphorical deterioration of society. Ingeborg’s body similarly degenerates. From Amalfitano’s marriage to Fate’s continued experiences of racism in the US, everyone experiences a sense of constant degradation and erosion. The institutions are no longer able to protect the people; the police fail to make any meaningful progress in stopping the murders. The hidden evil endures at the heart of society, eating away at the well-being and morality of humanity. 2666 alludes to these hidden evils without offering any form of cure for social alienation, suggesting that humanity is perhaps past the point of return, permeated so fully with hidden evil.

Hunger for Meaning in Life

While 2666 explores the social degeneration caused by the Hidden Evil Within Society, the characters in the novel possess a constant Hunger for Meaning in Life. They may feel alienated or melancholy, but they strive to find some sort of purpose for their existence. With society in such a degraded state, however, there is no consistent sense of how and where meaning can be found. The result is that each part of the novel—and even the various characters within each part—seeks meaning differently. For the critics in Part 1, meaning comes from literary analysis and research, which create a path to follow in uncovering the mysteries surrounding the author Archimboldi. The irony of the critics’ hunger for meaning is that their investigation is predicated on rejecting the desire of the figure they claim to adore: They are fans of Archimboldi, yet they derive meaning from ignoring his obvious desire to remain anonymous. Archimboldi has chosen to occlude himself from the public eye, yet his biggest fans are those who dedicate their entire lives to dragging him into the spotlight. Part 1 of 2666 demonstrates how the hunger for meaning can, for some people, cause friction in the lives of others. Archimboldi wishes to remain anonymous, yet his adoring fans derive meaning from finding and revealing his true identity to the world.

The critics launch an investigation into Archimboldi’s identity, which spans many years and continents. They spend vast sums of money tracking down leads, desperate for any piece of biographical understanding of Archimboldi. By knowing Archimboldi better, they believe that they will understand the world and themselves better. Their investigation becomes symbolic in this sense; success in their investigation will demonstrate that the hidden meanings of life can be uncovered and understood. They fail in this investigation, but they are not alone. The novel illustrates how Hunger for Meaning in Life often manifests in the form of investigations. Just like the critics searching for Archimboldi, the police and the journalists conduct investigations of their own. These more formalized investigations have both broad and narrow goals: The police investigate individual murders, while journalists like Sergio and Fate seek to understand the broader mystery behind the murders. Like the critics, however, they fail in their investigations, symbolizing a greater failure to satiate their Hunger for Meaning in Life, suggesting that such meaning cannot be tracked down through a straightforward, sterile investigation.  

Nevertheless, the hunger for meaning endures and motivates the lives of the characters. Even as society degrades and deteriorates around them, this hunger shapes their lives. Hans Reiter emerges from the collapse of his country to become a writer; when Ingeborg dies, he vanishes into obscurity but continues to find meaning through his writing. Mrs. Bubis and Lotte both take over the businesses of their dead husbands, finding unexpected meaning in administration. Later, Lotte learns Spanish to help her son, who is locked up in a Mexican prison. Through unexpected adversity and an investment in human relations rather than literal investigations that seek meaning, these characters satisfy their Hunger for Meaning in Life. Amalfitano, meanwhile, finds more meaning in helping his daughter in difficult times than in any of his academic pursuits. He crosses the ocean only to realize that Rosa is what gives his life the most meaning. Human relationships, amid their unpredictability and their chaos, satisfy the hunger for meaning more than anything else. As the fabric of social cohesion tears apart, these human relationships endure and shape the lives of the characters.

Literary Criticism as a Mode of Understanding Interpersonal Relationships

Archimboldi as an author is the most unifying thread throughout the five distinct parts of the narrative. As such, Literary Criticism as a Mode of Understanding Interpersonal Relationships emerges as a major theme. The critics in the opening section of the novel bond over their shared love of Archimboldi. By analyzing his work and sharing their analyses, they create a community and forge interpersonal relationships. The existence of this community—and its centrality to the lives of so many characters—reveals an inherent tension in literary criticism between the critic and subject. The critics seek to uncover the true identity of their favorite writer; they dedicate their lives to criticism and analysis of every word, sentence, and paragraph of his published work. Archimboldi, conversely, does not want to be understood. He is deliberately private and anonymous. Literary criticism is, in effect, a threat to his well-being. Furthermore, as explored in later parts of the novel, Archimboldi actively rejects participation in literary circles and movements. His work and his person are rejected by his peers, making him a cult fascination among the university students who eventually become the critics. Archimboldi is actively dismissive of literary criticism, yet he is the subject of so much of it. Ironically, the critics’ desire to understand Archimboldi (and, by extension, their world) through literary criticism is a betrayal of everything that Archimboldi believes in.

Amalfitano is a philosophy professor and, due to his being stationed at an unremarkable university, the critics cast aspersions on his academic talents. He does not impress them, as they judge everybody according to their talents as a literary critic. Unbeknownst to the critics, however, Amalfitano is practicing new, more radical forms of literary criticism to bring meaning to his life. Since the departure of his wife, Lola, Amalfitano has struggled to find his place in the world. His background in philosophy gives him no comfort as he grows increasingly alienated. He rejects traditional methods of reading texts; he hangs a geometry book from a clothesline so that nature can read the book. Then, he will read nature through the disintegration of the book by the wind, the rain, and the sun. Amalfitano’s bizarre methods are a radical new method of literary criticism. He is broadening the scope of criticism, observing how the forces of nature might interpret or affect a book. Like so many investigations in 2666, Amalfitano’s efforts do not lead him anywhere. His attempts, however, suggest that he still believes in literary criticism, though perhaps not in its traditional form.

Throughout his life, Archimboldi, or Hans Reiter, rejects any involvement in literary movements or scenes. On the few occasions when he is introduced to fellow artists, he quietly excuses himself. He feels no connection to such scenes, which feel to him like artificial constructs, and attempts to create a community from meager resources. He begins to write in earnest after World War II, beginning his literary career in the ruined, desolate remains of the state for which he risked his life and, as he later discovered, was responsible for so much suffering. Archimboldi’s rejection of literary criticism is a product of his experiences, as well as a demonstration of the inherent absurdity of investing meaning in literary criticism when there is so much violence and tragedy in the world. Whether this violence is World War II or the murders in Santa Teresa, the contrast makes literary criticism seem frivolous and insubstantial in terms of extracting actual meaning in life. Feeling so unable to do anything else, however, the significance of literary criticism in so many lives—through endorsement or rejection—suggests that there is a fundamental human desire to understand the world, even if it cannot be repaired.

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