What’s in a name? While a rose by any other name may well smell as sweet, the title of a book is most frequently inextricably linked to the nature and quality of the story contained within. Not necessary so with 2666. As the final novel written by one time poetic enfant terrible and literary supremo Roberto Bolano, 2666 has received a great deal of commentary, investigation and well-deserved praise but there has been no consensus among readers or critics as to the origin nor the importance of the title. Since the number fails to crop up in the novel itself, the nearest available reference for it from Bolano himself comes from his earlier novel Amulet where a road in Mexico City is said to look like ‘a cemetery in the year 2666’. That doesn’t really clear things up much. An alternative suggestion has it that the origins of 2666 are found in the Biblical exodus of the Jews from Egypt, an event which apparently occurred 2,666 years after the creation. That might be stretching things a bit too. Maybe Bolano just liked to keep people guessing? Nevertheless, whatever the reasoning behind its title, the delightful story that is spread across its 898 pages ensures that 2666 is truly a beautiful behemoth of a book.

2666 is comprised of five parts, Bolano having intended to have them published as five separate novellas although his literary executors took the wise decision to publish a single mammoth novel, that weave together to convey the invisibility of the poor and to emphasise their lack of representation and recognition as well as their enhanced likelihood of experiences violence and victimisation. The stories and voices of a multitude of characters, both living and dead, are drawn together in a vibrant yet brutal fashion to convey the magnitude to the terror that can hold a community in its grip and rip apart any individual unfortunate enough to cross its path. 2666 is not always an easy novel to read.

The opening of 2666, “The Part about the Critics”, follows four European literary critics as they travel the globe attending obscure conferences and following up leads in a search for their hero, the elusive German author Benno von Archimboldi. Although the four seem almost more interested in each other than in the mysterious Archimboldi, their search does seem to bear fruit when a supposedly sighting of the ghostly author leads them to the Mexican border town of Santa Teresa. While they remain one step behind Archimboldi, the critics are entertained in Santa Teresa by a host of local academics, including the peculiar Professor Amalfitano, and learn than hundreds of women have been murdered in the town during recent years. Bolano’s Santa Teresa is based on the real Mexican town of Ciudad Juarez which has experienced a similarly shocking level of homicide that the authorities seem unable or even unwilling to tackle properly.

“The Part about Amalfitano”, the second section of 2666, leaves the critics behind to concentrate on Professor Amalfitano as he seemingly experiences a nervous breakdown. This is the shortest section of the novel and occasionally feels rather disjointed although it does flesh out the character of Amalfitano, his relationship with his daughter and the specter of his runaway wife.

“The Part about Fate” continues to involve Amalfitano but predominantly depicts African-American journalist and former Black Panther Oscar Fate who is in Santa Teresa to report on a boxing bout. As Fate becomes mixed up with the local gangs and drug dealers and meets with Amalfitano’s daughter, Rosa, the horrific shadow of the ever increasing numbers of women who have been raped and murdered then dumped in the ravines, junkyards and abandoned buildings of Santa Teresa begins to intrude more and more into the tone of 2666.

The fourth and longest section of 2666, “The Part about the Crime”, is the toughest by far as Bolano masterfully succeeds in bludgeoning the horror of the death of each woman home to the reader. Almost like CSI on crack, Bolano offers a forensic report on the death of every single victim, detailing their suffering and the ultimate condition of the corpse. There are a lot of reports to read. This section truly brings out the desolation and brutality of life in Santa Teresa, chronicling the investigations of the uneducated, violent and corrupt police department, the drug and sex fuelled parties of local crime lords, and the imprisonment of the only suspect in the case, a German businessman who has remained in jail as the killings continue.

“The Part about Archimboldi” returns neatly to the beginning of 2666 as Bolano finally introduced the German author long sought by the critics. Archimboldi’s life story is told, his wartime exploits uncovered and the reason why, late in life, he found himself in Santa Teresa is discovered.

2666 is the best book I’ve read this year. The sense of menace on its pages is palpable and chilling while the novel as a whole brilliantly evokes the corruption of society and the individual and eloquently questions just what being human really means. While the scale of 2666 is truly immense, Bolano still manages to capture the creeping darkness that walks the streets of Santa Teresa and observes the ticks and almost trivial details that make each character compelling. 2666 is also something of a literary experiment as Bolano eschews standard plot development and grammar in the telling of his elephantine tale. One sentence found early in the first section lasts for four and a half pages. It’s a darkly, distressingly delightful and thrilling read and I really can’t recommend 2666 enough.

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