Another Bolano book about two eccentric poets — one Chilean, as always — literally wandering around Mexico City, and their aesthetic obsessions with sex, poetry and politics. Also like The Savage Detectives, it’s got a smattering of epistolary and interview-style chapters throughout, and features a Pynchon-esque trail of clues about an obscure literary obsession. Somehow I was still intrigued… there’s a wild magic to Bolanos writing that makes even his confused, almost identical characters and circuitous storylines strangely compelling. Despite myself, I’ll probably return to him again.