This was quite an unusual book and I enjoyed many aspects of it, such as the warmth and tenderness of the relationship between Gonzalo and Vicente, the poetry and the writing style. There were too many graphic and completely unnecessary sex scenes though, especially at the beginning, which almost made me stop reading. This was a pity as I can tell that Zambra is a talented author.
With grateful thanks to Netgalley for my copy in exchange for an honest review.

4.5/5

Having read only [Multiple Choice by Alejandro Zambra, an ingenious experimental work, I didn’t expect that he would write a conventional novel as Chilean Poet turned out to be. Its brilliance is not so much in its form or style, as these are fairly straightforward with the air of lightness, but in the moving warmth of the main story between a stepfather Gonzalo and his stepson Vicente, and Zambra’s wonderful novelistic homage to the poetic tradition of his country (“I am a Chilean novelist, and we Chilean novelists write novels about Chilean poets”). Not that one would learn about Chilean poetry, except for a long list of poets mentioned throughout the novel, but how much the sense of poetry infuses all kinds of relationships, above all the bonds between Gonzalo (I prefer his nickname Gonzo, he’s such a beautiful character) and his stepson, a relationship rarely written about elsewhere. The novel progresses through four larger segments that follow the growth of Vicente as a young man and aspiring poet, formed and influenced through his relationship with his (ex-)step-father (and, I have to mention, the cat Darkness whose photo was even inserted later in the novel). And their life together and apart goes into one of the most brilliant endings of any novel (this is not a spoiler): “… this ends here, this ends well, the way so many books we love would end if we tore out their final pages.”

As for the poets that are mentioned throughout the book with some of their poems quoted, they range from the long-established names known well outside of Chile to the new crop of poets and pseudo-poets for which Zambra doesn’t seem to have as much sympathy as for those from the recent and distant past. As if he agrees with one of the passing characters (“the anonymous poet” as it were) that “after the coup, [poetry] is no longer possible. It’s like what Adorno said about the Holocaust.” Nicanor Parra is Zambra’s favorite poet (see his tribute in The New Yorker upon Parra’s death at the age of 103 in 2018) and he couldn’t resist carving out a small fictional cameo for him in one of the novel’s episodes. But the most beautiful poems quoted in the book were, at least for me, written by the protagonists themselves, one by Gonzalo (“Garfield”) and another by Vicente (“In my mother tongue the word for earthquake is masculine…”), which is to say, ironically (or not), both written by the novelist Zambra.

A brief footnote: It was a nice surprise to see the name of Gabriel Boric mentioned among the new hopeful generation of activists in the book, which was written before Boric’s recent election as the new president of Chile. His election was one of the happier news from around the world these days. Lo and behold, I’ve just read that Boric himself included Chilean Poet in his list of favorite books. Well, there is, after all, I hope a bright future for the literature and politics of at least one country…

My thanks to the publisher Granta for an ARC via NetGalley.

there is something about latin american literature that I really love. I think part of it is the eclectic mix between beautiful, lyrical writing and the backdrop of cosmopolitan chile. this book was no different and I am so happy I requested this on NetGalley, because wow !! just like the title, the book was centred around two Chilean poets; Gonzalo and his sort of-step-son, Vincente. If you enjoy plot driven novels, I would probably say this one isn’t for you. its more about the complexities of family relationships, poetry and self contemplation.

some of my favourite poets were mentioned in this book which is always fun. commentary about writing and fine literature by writers just hits different. it’s equal parts satirically funny and sarcastic. but also, lots of respect goes into these moments within the book, and that is important.

zambra is clearly incredibly talented and I’m excited to read more of his work soon !! highly recommend this book to anyone with an interest in character driven, poetic, complex relationships, sometimes nothing really happens books.

Tourism sites frequently refer to Chile as the land of poets, although the only actual poet they tend to mention’s Neruda. Alejandro Zambra’s novel builds on this association between Chile and poetry, a country in which poetry’s a heroic practice, central to its mythology and a rich source of national pride. His book features two poets Gonzalo, who grew up during the dictatorship, and his stepson Vicente. In the early years of Chile’s democracy in the 1990s, teenager Gonzalo who, like Zambra, hails from Maipu has an intense relationship with Carla, after a few break-ups and some disastrous sex they finally part. Inspired by his feelings for Carla, Gonzalo now writes not-so-great poetry but that work has become crucial to his sense of self and his hopes for the future. Time passes, Carla and Gonzalo rekindle their relationship but Carla now has a son Vicente, and Gonzalo has to learn to how to be a parent as well as a partner. But his alternative family falls apart, Gonzalo leaves for New York and Zambra flashes forward to 2013 and Vicente’s life at 18, now an aspiring poet too, also inspired by his girlfriend leaving him.

Zambra’s exploration of parenting and the relationship between different generations of male writers seems to be a way of representing two versions of Chile itself. Both Vicente and Gonzalo attempt to craft their lives through crafting poetry. For Gonzalo, poetry’s essentially a solitary practice, predominantly masculine, romanticised, apolitical and individualistic, characteristics that make sense in the context of a person who grew up in authoritarian times. His attempts at parenting are similarly individualistic, there’s no sense of working with Carla as a partner in building their family. And, despite voicing regrets, he's easily able to abandon this family when other opportunities arise. For Vicente poetry’s more complex, rooted in community, passion, dissent and discussion, something that encompasses and embraces diverse voices. Although he’s also part of, what Zambra calls, a “generation of medicated children,” a comment on the consequences of being parented by adults shaped by traumatic historical events.

Zambra wrote Chilean Poet during recent political shifts in Chile, including the rise of Gabriel Boric to President. Boric’s earlier role as a radical, left-wing, student leader’s briefly alluded to here via Vicente’s engagement with the student protest movement. Zambra’s discussed Boric and his peers in terms of their potential for rewriting Chile’s past, overcoming trauma and opening up a space that allows Chileans to finally move forward. That hope for renewal and reconciliation emerges through Vicente’s character arc, underlined by the nature of his chance encounter with Gonzalo who’s finally returned to Chile.

This is an intriguing take on contemporary Chile but as a novel it sometimes felt closer to an academic exercise than a fully-realised narrative. It’s written in a detached, self-consciously ironic style; despite the interrupted timelines and abrupt shifts between the main characters’ perspectives the structure’s fairly straightforward, although there are occasional metafictional flashes. But as a story it’s slightly unbalanced, part of the plot’s unexpectedly dominated by Pru, an American journalist who meets Vicente while she’s on holiday in Santiago. At Vicente’s urging, Pru sets up a series of interviews with a cross-section of Chilean poets in order to document the Chilean literary scene. As a character, I found Pru less than convincing, she often felt more like a vehicle for a potted history of Chilean poetry, and her backstory including her identity as a lesbian, seemed a tacked-on, unnecessary digression, although Zambra’s nods to queer communities had a definite tokenistic feel throughout.

My overwhelming impression of the novel is that it’s rooted in an exploration of heterosexual masculinity, that’s particularly overt in Gonzalo’s episodes, and key to his identity – and presumably on some level Zambra’s, since Gonzalo often seems to operate as the author’s stand-in. Zambra is attempting a critique of his generation of men but doesn’t always communicate it that effectively. It may be this intense emphasis on straight masculinity, and its less-than-subtle handling, that has contributed to some reviewers’ sense that aspects of the text skew towards the homophobic. Pru is, however, quite an effective means of satirising the ways in which Chilean culture has been stereotyped by outsiders– the only Chilean writers Pru’s heard of are Neruda and Bolano. She also signals a possible shift from Chile as a place dominated by the output of other cultures – in Gonzalo’s Santiago the city’s soundtrack is almost exclusively American - to one that’s more invested in cultivating its own cultural landscape. I found a lot to engage me here, I enjoyed the moments of unexpected dry humour, and the inclusion of near-surreal scenes mostly involving Vicente’s cat. But I was uncertain about the portrayal of various figures and I also thought a number of sections - Pru’s descriptions of her interviews with Chilean poets, real and imagined for instance - had a laundry-list quality, while others felt unnecessarily stretched out, overly detailed, and awkwardly referential. So, overall, although I thought the central themes were worth exploring, this wasn’t always an entirely satisfying experience. Translated here by Megan McDowell.

Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Granta Publications for an ARC

"It's better to write than not to write. Poetry is subversive because it exposes you, tears you apart. You dare to distrust yourself. You dare to disobey. That’s the idea, to disobey everyone. Disobey yourself, that’s the most important thing. That’s crucial. I don’t know if I like my poems, but I know that if I hadn’t written them I’d be dumber, more useless, more individualistic. I publish them because they’re alive. I don’t know if they’re good, but they deserve to live.”

Zambra's writing style and plot structure is absolutely mesmerizing.

This is a book that I thoroughly enjoyed reading with all its tones and warmth. The author weaves the story very beautifully and leaves some kind of imprint on your mind, could also be your heart. Glad that I read this book.

When we think back about books we read a year or longer ago usually what we remember most is not the plot, but the atmosphere. I absolutely loved the warm atmosphere of Chilean Poet, especially the first and the last part. It is about the relationship between Gonzalo, a Chilean poet, and Carla and her son Vicente (Gonzalo's stepson).

It explores the theme of “step parenthood”, but casts it in a positive light rather than the negative way in which stepfathers are usually portrayed, and so what we get is a very warm story. But also a sad story because what happens to the step father-step son relationship when the relationship between the mother and the stepfather ends?

The third section (of four) slightly I found less engaging because it is about Chilean poets (and I do not know any Chilean poets apart from Pablo Neruda), but I still flew through it every time I picked the book back up.

It is not an innovative novel in form, but it is very original - in tone, narration and subject matter - and most of all heart-warming.

There are elements of this novel that I felt were really strong, including the language. There was definitely some food for thought on the role of poetry within our society. For me, the heart of the story was the relationship between Vicente and Gonzalo. The characterization of Vicente as a child was so endearing and naturalistically done, particularly the moment with Darkness' teeth. The ending chapters where they reunite were amongst the strongest.

Beyond that, I felt that there was gratuitous misogyny - I don't need a play by play of the characters having sex. The chapters with Pru again repeatedly came back to her body and the perception of her body. I get that the author was trying to critique the masculinity of the poets in Chile, but in so doing he was recreating the same thing in his writing. The interviews with the poets often melded together and the middle portion was a slog to get through.

Ultimately it was a lot of work to read for not a lot of pay off.

<i>"What kinds of poems do you want to write?"
"True poems. Honest poems, poems that make me change, that transform me. You know?"

"If you publish a book, you're a poet. Maybe you end up regretting it, but once you publish a book of poems you're screwed, you'll always be a poet."</i>

Well, I thought this book was just wonderful. It’s about Chilean poets—two specifically, a stepfather and his stepson. But there are other poets, too—a country of them.

I thought it was quite ambitious and impressive how much time this novel covers. I am glad I read the blurb for it halfway through, because it prepared me for the return of one of the main characters (otherwise I think I might have gotten antsy about him going offstage at the 50% mark, but his absence is definitely essential).

We begin with the story about two high school sweethearts (“sweetheart” is actually a bit of a stretch…), Gonzalo and Carla, and their early days of courtship. Years later, Gonzalo becomes part of Carla’s life yet again, as well as the life of her young son Vicente, who will emerge as the novel’s second most important character. We meet Pru, a U.S. writer heartbroken over the end of the relationship with her female best friend and roommate, who travels to Chile on a commission to write about Chilean poets. “You guys are like Bolaño characters,” she tells Vicente and his friend. For Vicente has become a Chilean poet, just like his stepfather Gonzalo was before him. It’s an important connection between the two characters, especially during the section of the book where they’re not in direct touch anymore.

I would describe the tone of this book as highly affectionate. Is Zambra making fun of the self-professed importance of these Chilean poets? Their hyper-masculine world, their pretentiousness, their inability to grow up? Yes, but I think he’s also praising their passion, their commitment. You could definitely read this book alongside <i>The Savage Detectives.</i> I loved the scene of the poet party, and of the montage of all the poets that Pru interviews. For a character who doesn’t appear until quite late in the book (nearly the 50% mark) she emerges as quite key for the book’s main themes. The poets argue, write, and listen to Los Prisioneros. But the main thread of the story definitely deals with the relationship between Gonzalo and Vicente—their friendship, their love for each other, their affection. I thought Gonzalo using Vicente’s name as a password was a really beautiful way to show this. I also loved all the sequences involving Darkness the cat, and Vicente’s fundraising efforts for his tooth operation. A lot of this book is so sweet and funny!

This is ultimately a very human story about people who love and are utterly committed to literature, no matter how useless and pointless it is. Yes, Gonzalo is arguably a bit of a failure—will Vicente fare any better? Who cares? What matters is that they share that passion, that drive, and the world will always be better off with people like that living in it.

I just loved this book.

<i>"He remembers when he thought he could affect other people with his poems: he thought he could be loved, be accepted, be included. It would have been easier to be disillusioned by poetry, to forget about poetry, than to accept, as Gonzalo did, that he'd failed. It would have been better to blame poetry, but it would have been a lie, because there are those poems he has just read, poems that prove poetry is good for something, that words can wound, throb, cure, console, resonate, remain."

"Am I good or am I bad, did I change or did I not change, did I ruin everything or did I not ruin everything."

"The overwhelming joy of being important to somebody."

"Books were sacred to him, even bad books were sacred."

"She always sought, and continues to seek, <i>something</i>, and though she is not sure what it is, she knows it is not entirely tied up with success or recognition."

"The world of Chilean poets is a little stupid but it's still more genuine, less false than the ordinary lives of people who follow the rules and keep their heads down. Of course there is opportunism and cruelty, but also real passion and heroism and allegiance to dreams. She thinks that Chilean poets are stray dogs and stray dogs are Chilean poets and that she herself is a Chilean poet, poking her snout into the trash cans of an unknown city."

"That's why they write poems, because they don't know how to talk."

"You can't write poetry in this fucking country anymore. But I still keep writing, I can't help it. It's my weakness. I'm like an addict and it's my drug. I don't even realize it and I go and write and poem, or two, or three, or twenty."

"It's better to write than not to write. Poetry is subversive because it exposes you, tears you apart. You dare to distrust yourself. You dare to disobey. That’s the idea, to disobey everyone. Disobey yourself, that’s the most important thing. That’s crucial. I don’t know if I like my poems, but I know that if I hadn’t written them I’d be dumber, more useless, more individualistic. I publish them because they’re alive. I don’t know if they’re good, but they deserve to live.”</i>

I'm afraid the tone of Zambra's storytelling is kind of too crude for me. His female characters bear all the signs of his being a male author.

Alejandro Zambra is one of my favorite authors and I had the pleasure to meet him once. This is indeed very charming, sometimes funny. I was excited to read and glad to say I was not dissapointed. Cannot wait to read it again and take notes on the physical book itself.