Tag Archives: Borges

Maybe I haven’t put my whole heart and soul into my commentary on these stories that make up Ficciones, and I apologize to the spectre of Borges for this seeming lack of proper respect.  Believe me, I love the guy.  … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Here the story seems to need careful perusal and thought above the rather simple narrative plot.  A man whose family is both Argentinian and German, plans to leave his job in Buenos Aires eventually to live at his homestead, a … Continue reading → Continue reading →

The End is an oddity in this anthology, and yet I suppose it fits in the manner of a return in time and a meeting of adversaries.  A shopkeeper lies paralyzed on his cot listening to the guitar-playing of a … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Despite a lack of commentary on Bellow’s Henderson the Rain King, I have gotten a couple of chapters into it, enjoyed it, and will continue reading and initiate postings on it shortly. In the meantime, Borges has claimed my mind. Continue reading →

This is unreal.  Not what I thought at all, but a path that Borges rolls out to ponder at each step.  It is impossible to comment on this story before reading it much, much deeper, except to perhaps cover some … Continue reading → Continue reading →

How could I have possibly been so naive, so egotistical, so smug? One thing that Borges has not mentioned, and yet I considered in my reading, was the theory of Jesus having arranged with Judas for his betrayal and crucifixion.  … Continue reading → Continue reading →

The story: An author is arrested and sentenced to be executed on March 29th at 9:00 a.m.  He is scared and dreadful of the mechanics of death, and starts to think of what he has left behind in his writings.  … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Not as impressive, this detective story, with murder contrived within numerical calculations left in clues for Detective Lonnrot to plot out to its sequential conclusion.   Beginning with indications of alphabetical hints and messages left at the scene of the crime, … Continue reading → Continue reading →

While I’m likely to do a Finale on this anthology, a thought struck me after writing up that last post. Borges is what I had considered a "namedropper" in these stories and there are so many mentioned, as well as … Continue reading → Continue reading →

I’m going to go about commenting on this one a bit differently; Borges once again enters the realm of time warps and questions, but it is an intriguing premise that follows the axiom of art imitating life, and its reverse, … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Another great opening: His face was crossed with a rancorous scar: a nearly perfect ashen arc which sank into his temple on one side and his cheek on the other.  His real name is of no importance: in Tacuarembo everyone … Continue reading → Continue reading →

The opening line intrigues: I remember him (I scarcely have the right to use this ghostly verb; only one man on earth deserved the right, and he is dead), I remember him with a dark passionflower in his hand, looking … Continue reading → Continue reading →

As I’ve noted before, reading the story a few years later and with whatever experience I’ve managed to retain and utilize since, and in view of the previous stories in this collection, I enjoyed the adventure of the story as … Continue reading → Continue reading →

This is one of my favorites–likely because my comprehension of it changed with each new branch of information brought in a paragraph, and because I should have written all those ideas down for what I’m left with at the end … Continue reading → Continue reading →

In this piece, Borges as first person narrator plays reviewer, critiquing the work of the dead Herbert Quain. I’m not sure that even after a couple readings that I can give an intelligent commentary on this one.  Quain appears to … Continue reading → Continue reading →