seems the time has come, and after several books probing the risk, Vila-Matas has decided to take the suicide leap and the English. In this process have been burning stages and time has passed, because a few years ago the author Barcelona ill El mal de Montano, and then disappear morphed into the Doctor Pasavento , and walk to the edge of their Explorers abyss before making the final leap, the leap into the void that is Dublinesca .
Dublinesca Because, with its millimeter resonant structure and character games, metafictional references and buildings, using the history of literature, and especially Joyce Ulysses, in a way that goes beyond postmodernism as well Vila-Matas has been used on other occasions, this time, the essence of Ulysses infiltrates the fictional reality of giving body, so that you can see at the funeral of Mr Macintosh alter ego of the own funeral Vila-Matas. Mr. Macintosh was in Ulises, a mysterious character who first appears in Chapter 6 of the novel, leaving always see a halo of mystery in subsequent chapters. As stated in the very Dublinesca as Nabokov's theory, that mysterious person correspond with the author, Joyce himself, creator of protagonist Leopold Bloom, who watch from a distance. Thus, this mysterious man, who may wear a Nehru jacket or look like a young Samuel Beckett, Nabokov himself would by Vila-Matas, and so the novel would end with his funeral. What is the funeral of an author in her own but suicide? (Something like a few decades ago raised Philip Roth on one of his novels). In addition, Mr. Macintosh suicide when the birth of the digital age and the death of the Gutenberg Galaxy is another great irony of the text, another great Joycean pun of many who live (in fact, living, as living entities) the novel, but do not know what kind of Vila-Matas computer has.
But in that case, if the author is that an outside observer who is always, looks and goes unnoticed, as these authors of our own lives, who rarely repair, who is the strange narrator? Who's that inner voice of the protagonist, Samuel Riba? Accustomed to the first person and absolutely subjective voice of the books of Vila-Matas, may cause surprise in first meet with a false omniscient narrator, because that voice is no objective reality rather than an external view of the inner self. As if the protagonist had decided to go himself to tell his story. And on this track may seem a mention in the book appears to The man who sleeps by Georges Perec, in which an external voice, such as PLC, is dictating to the player what their actions. There is some precise mechanical Dublinesca this narrator, a perfect fusion between the objective and subjective, the third person and first. And something happened to the protagonist of The sleeping man, the narrator provokes the same wonder, though in this case it is clear the difference with the normal of an omniscient narrator. Vila-Matas is hidden, non-stop playing with the masks of equivocation and ambiguity.
But probably the most important idea (transformed into cosmogony structural) of the work is in the transition that has that playful, playful, complex and arrogant James Joyce, to the feeling of meaninglessness, existential angst and moral density of the other great twentieth-century Irish writer, Samuel Beckett, who, as stated in the novel, marks a shock of loss, twilight and thirst that is matched to that species collective sentiment that was born twenty-first century, the twentieth coda vacuum prologue. Because Samuel Riba often feels like shouting into the void in the capsule without air from a bad dream, and this Beckettian angst permeates a work that, in contrast, is charged with a breath of poetic sadness rooted with the other great artist of descent twentieth century Irish John Ford.
Ford is reminiscent of other times throughout the novel, either by itself, through other (Yeats, Innisfree ...), or by invoking the lyrics of the natural landscape he could take form as well in his films. And we see the solid framework narrative of Vila-Matas's novel (which perhaps become his most classic novel from The vertical travel or, rather, allowing a second look on it more classical, parallel to the alleged and structural experimentation and formal) hides a deep and poetic melancholy flavor in a way analogous to how the films of Ford. Inevitably evoke How Green Was My Valley , The Informer or The Quiet Man, but in spirit is very near a movie that lives in the antipodes Contextual The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance . For an embrace of despair on a rainy sidewalk in front of a bar of doom is able to evoke feelings similar to those of a cactus flower on a wooden coffin. In fact, Vila-Matas look that goes about Ireland, like John Ford, purely emotional, unrealistic, and aims through their references and feelings evoked to grasp its true nature. Because that's the only way to understand the essence of a place, a city (as it did in the past with the mythical and difficultly Paris, for example).
Thus, the autumnal aroma radiating from the Irish landscape permeates the novel, and so the continent turns its essences on the content, modifying the feeling and emotions in a way that in other contexts have attracted artists such as Michelangelo Antonioni and David Cronenberg, not coincidentally present in Dublinesca. For the author, with his likes and obsessions are more present than ever in this novel, and the reality-fiction game reached one of its most unexpected heights, twisted, funny, incorporating stories, features and details the author's own figure a literary editor. As if everything were a dream of Vila-Matas transfigured into a parallel life to share the obsession with hikkikomoris, the strange hotel stays abroad or visiting New Yorkers known writers, and as if all veer through a series of nightmares that inhabit a fine and constant humor, parody, joke around, but nothing, able to explore the most remote corners of the human soul in a warm, through irony nothing offensive . I have always held the view that this way of modulating the irony is one of the great virtues of the literature of Vila-Matas, derived from their ability to understand the human being and equal respect for their deeper weaknesses, thoughts lighter and the contrast between loneliness and the need for communication.
But it is surprising how melancholy look Vila-Matas is able to create an endearing character and absolutely twinned with the reader from some ingredients that could indicate the opposite. Does anyone want to share a bit of time with Samuel Riba alone knew his portrait robot? The look of the author humanizes him closer and makes her look beyond ironic about everything and making us all share in a compassion that we also feel constantly, though we try to deny ourselves.
Although the suggestion of the work is not completed, because every detail, every idea gets to bend over itself finding a new twist. The analysis would infinite, but one of the most visible and striking unknowns would find out who the mystery writer Vilem Vok that is fascinating in the novel, and ask if they are only characters that are real and if it is true that we have all dreamed night Rita Malú, although skin move from one novel to another. "Everyone is Vila-Matas? Are all of us Vila-Matas?
What is the great wealth of Dublinesca ? You can not answer, but one possibility would be something that, despite starting BECOME topic can be one of the most important current paradigms of literature: the richness lies in diversity reading, the possibility of each player to endorse the novel, set at ground personnel and establish related theories himself. The multiplicity of readings, performances and concepts revived. The validity of this. The same wealth that turns Joyce's Ulysses and all the great classics of twentieth-century books essential to understanding the kaleidoscopic world. Thus, this theory, this interpretation of Dublinesca , it's just another of the infinite range combinations. As a work of Perec, as a mathematical game, like rain and the sea.
Now is the day of the weekend was Gutenberg, but that is no cause for shame for those who have loved the glorious era of human thought. On the contrary, we can boast the success of this phase (of fiction, like all stages) and the wealth that comes with the next, which should not serve, and will not be used to losing things, lost theories, losing countries, but to gain new insights, new ways and new formulations of our reality. Our reality, fiction of all.
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