¡Update!

Sandwiched between a towering, snow capped volcano and a shimmering green lake, the town of Pucón, Chile is famous in these parts for it´s landscape, it´s hustle-and-bustle, and it´s wealth of outdoor activities. Rafting, zip lines, summiting the volcanic peak, trekking, cycling... todo es possible aquí. Since my arrival the other night, I have been checking out the town and making a couple of friends at the campground. In fact, I am going to head up to the National Park Villarrica tomorrow morning with a botanist friend I met from Florida to go backpacking for a couple of days, with a hot springs as the destination. Not too bad, eh? Promptly following the excursion, I will be catching an overnight bus from Pucón to Santiago to go see Radiohead on Thursday. It´s a busy schedule, but that´s how I likes it! Besides that, there´s not too much to report.

As promised, though, I would like to give you my feedback on my most recent conquest on my Tur de Libros, Mario Vargas Llosa´s ¨Aunt Julia and the Scripwriter¨. Enjoy!

From the beginning, this book took off like a Saturn 5. I was turning pages like a madman, laughing out loud regularly, and loving every bit of it. The characters leaped from the pages, the action moved in unanticipated ways, the plot abounded with insights into Peruvian culture, and Vargas Llosa developed a (I think unique) way of interjecting wildly entertaining non-sequitor story lines into the book by devoting chapters to exhibiting the title ¨scriptwriter´s¨ work. By incorporating these short stories into the book, the author accomplished two things, I think: providing fitting examples of a germane plot component (i .e. the character´s dramatic work), and creating an outlet for the author´s ridiculous and hilarious dramatic energy. It worked on a couple of levels.

Also, oddly enough, Vargas Llosa chose the ¨writer´s experience¨ as a theme. This is strange only because this (not terribly common) topic has been a crucial device in the other 3 books I have read by South American authors on my trip. Weird. It´s possible that writing about writing is a common concept in literature from this continent, but that will take further investigation to confirm.

Lastly, I have to say the ending to this book was a major let down. Nothing happened. The story just went limp. I´ve been struggling to unearth a literary reason why Vargas Llosa chose this particular ending, but nothing I come up with really strikes me. I think he just lost it in the end, unfortunately. In any event, the book as a whole was witty, colorful, fun, and worthwhile. With a more clever ending, it could have been great.

You stay classy, San Diego.