Wow, I just read the Bolaño story in the most recent New Yorker–it’s here, and it’s called “William Burns”–and I loved it.  First anything by Bolaño that I’ve loved.  I had very mixed feelings about 2666.  But this was great.  It kind of reminded me of a Ligotti story, with the degrees of distance from the narrator, the surreal dread, the shifting perceptions of the source of danger, and the dreamlike progression.  It feels like transcribed dream, which is of particular interest to me at the moment.

Similarly, I’m loving I. Fontana’s “UB” at Spork, just as I loved the Jean Harlow story from a while back.  I’m interested in anything Fontana writes these days; he knows what he’s doing.

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