Creo que es una de las mejores antologías (si no la mejor) que haya leído jamás... y yo amo leer antologías. Sólo me gustaría saber por qué espere tantos, pero tantos años para leerla. ( )

The great Argentinian literary artists Jorge Luis Borges and Adolfo Bioy Casares have compiled over ninety tales of the fantastic, strange, imaginative, and, yes, the extraordinary - tales from around the world, from all times and places, ancient and modern, East and West. Some of the tales are as short as one or two or three lines, most one page and a few others two, three or four pages.. Highly recommended for your reading pleasure. Here are several of the shorter tales I particularly enjoyed, including the last tale by Adolfo Bioy Casares where I have also included my brief commentary:

THE WORK AND THE POET by R. F. Burton (1887)
The Hindu poet Tulsi Das composed the “Geste” of Hanuman and his army of monkeys. Years later, he was imprisoned in a stone tower by a king. In his cell he put himself to meditating, and from out of his meditation emerged Hanuman and his army of monkeys, and they conquered the city, burst into the tower, and freed Tulsi Das.

EUGENICS by Drummond (1618)
A lady of quality fell so deliriously in love with a certain Mr. Dodd, a Puritan preacher, that she begged her husband to allow her to use the marital bed for purposes of procreating an angel or a saint, but, permission having been granted, the birth was normal.

THE CASTLE by Diderot (1773)
Thus he arrived before a great castle on which façade were carved the words: I BELONG TO NO ONE AND TO ALL. BEFORE ENTERING YOU WERE ALREADY HERE. WHEN YOU LEAVE YOU WILL REMAIN.

THE DREAM OF CHUANG TZU noted by Herbert Allen Giles (1889)
Chuang Tzu dreamt he was a butterfly, and when he awoke, did not know if he was a man who had dreamt he was a butterfly or a butterfly who was dreaming he was a man.

THE MIRACLE noted by W. Somerset Maugham (1949-1951)
A Yogi wanted to cross a river and had not the penny to pay the ferryman, so he walked across the river on his feet. Another Yogi hearing of this said the miracle was only worth the penny it would have cost to cross by ferry.

SALVATION by Adolfo Bioy Casares (about 1955)
This is a story out of past times and kingdoms. A sculptor was walking in the garden of the palace in the company of a tyrant. Beyond and behind the Labyrinth for Illustrious Foreigners, at the far edge of the Grove dedicated for Decapitated Philosophers, the sculptor presented the tyrant with his latest work: a water-nymph as fountain. While the sculptor grew prolix with technical explanations and expanded in the intoxication of triumph, he began to notice a menacing shadow crossing the handsome face of his protector. He fathomed the cause, “How can a person of such indifferent quality,” the tyrant was surely thinking, “do what I, master of nations, cannot do?” At that moment a bird, which had settled to drink at the fountain, flew off with a flutter of wings in the air, and the sculptor thought of the idea which would save him. “No matter how insignificant they may be,” he said aloud, indicating the bird, “we must recognize that they fly better than we.”

Here are a number of features of this wonderful tale I particularly enjoy:
• Although this might be a direct slap at the current political dictatorship in Argentina of the time, Bioy Casares states directly the tale is of a far distant past, giving it a remote, universal, mythical quality;
• Labyrinth for illustrious foreigners and a grove dedicated to decapitated philosophers sounds ominous. In a modern dictatorship that is exactly the truth: keeping foreigners in the dark about what is really happening in the country and assassinating any free-thinking citizen who dares to disagree;
• The sculptor’s nymph fountain could be seen as a stand in for a fiction writer’s fantastic tale, the kind written by the author himself, his friend Jorge Luis Borges or his wife Silvina Ocampo.
• The artist is proud of his creation and loves to speak at length about the creative process, but such talk makes a powerful politician angry since, compared to an artist or creative writer, the politician is an unimaginative, no-talent power player.
• There could be trouble, but since the artist is especially perceptive and intuitive, he senses danger and, like a hunted wild animal, becomes keenly aware of surroundings - thus catching the flutter of a bird’s wing prompting him to speak the words that save his neck. I can imagine many artists and writers in Argentina and elsewhere on the globe at the time of dictatorship likewise becoming highly intuitive and thereby escaping prison, torture or death.
( )

The great Argentinian literary artists Jorge Luis Borges and Adolfo Bioy Casares have compiled over ninety tales of the fantastic, strange, imaginative, and, yes, the extraordinary - tales from around the world, from all times and places, ancient and modern, East and West. Some of the tales are as short as one or two or three lines, most one page and a few others two, three or four pages.. Highly recommended for your reading pleasure. Here are several of the shorter tales I particularly enjoyed, including the last tale by Adolfo Bioy Casares where I have also included my brief commentary:

THE WORK AND THE POET by R. F. Burton (1887)
The Hindu poet Tulsi Das composed the “Geste” of Hanuman and his army of monkeys. Years later, he was imprisoned in a stone tower by a king. In his cell he put himself to meditating, and from out of his meditation emerged Hanuman and his army of monkeys, and they conquered the city, burst into the tower, and freed Tulsi Das.

EUGENICS by Drummond (1618)
A lady of quality fell so deliriously in love with a certain Mr. Dodd, a Puritan preacher, that she begged her husband to allow her to use the marital bed for purposes of procreating an angel or a saint, but, permission having been granted, the birth was normal.

THE CASTLE by Diderot (1773)
Thus he arrived before a great castle on which façade were carved the words: I BELONG TO NO ONE AND TO ALL. BEFORE ENTERING YOU WERE ALREADY HERE. WHEN YOU LEAVE YOU WILL REMAIN.

THE DREAM OF CHUANG TZU noted by Herbert Allen Giles (1889)
Chuang Tzu dreamt he was a butterfly, and when he awoke, did not know if he was a man who had dreamt he was a butterfly or a butterfly who was dreaming he was a man.

THE MIRACLE noted by W. Somerset Maugham (1949-1951)
A Yogi wanted to cross a river and had not the penny to pay the ferryman, so he walked across the river on his feet. Another Yogi hearing of this said the miracle was only worth the penny it would have cost to cross by ferry.

SALVATION by Adolfo Bioy Casares (about 1955)
This is a story out of past times and kingdoms. A sculptor was walking in the garden of the palace in the company of a tyrant. Beyond and behind the Labyrinth for Illustrious Foreigners, at the far edge of the Grove dedicated for Decapitated Philosophers, the sculptor presented the tyrant with his latest work: a water-nymph as fountain. While the sculptor grew prolix with technical explanations and expanded in the intoxication of triumph, he began to notice a menacing shadow crossing the handsome face of his protector. He fathomed the cause, “How can a person of such indifferent quality,” the tyrant was surely thinking, “do what I, master of nations, cannot do?” At that moment a bird, which had settled to drink at the fountain, flew off with a flutter of wings in the air, and the sculptor thought of the idea which would save him. “No matter how insignificant they may be,” he said aloud, indicating the bird, “we must recognize that they fly better than we.”

Here are a number of features of this wonderful tale I particularly enjoy:
• Although this might be a direct slap at the current political dictatorship in Argentina of the time, Bioy Casares states directly the tale is of a far distant past, giving it a remote, universal, mythical quality;
• Labyrinth for illustrious foreigners and a grove dedicated to decapitated philosophers sounds ominous. In a modern dictatorship that is exactly the truth: keeping foreigners in the dark about what is really happening in the country and assassinating any free-thinking citizen who dares to disagree;
• The sculptor’s nymph fountain could be seen as a stand in for a fiction writer’s fantastic tale, the kind written by the author himself, his friend Jorge Luis Borges or his wife Silvina Ocampo.
• The artist is proud of his creation and loves to speak at length about the creative process, but such talk makes a powerful politician angry since, compared to an artist or creative writer, the politician is an unimaginative, no-talent power player.
• There could be trouble, but since the artist is especially perceptive and intuitive, he senses danger and, like a hunted wild animal, becomes keenly aware of surroundings - thus catching the flutter of a bird’s wing prompting him to speak the words that save his neck. I can imagine many artists and writers in Argentina and elsewhere on the globe at the time of dictatorship likewise becoming highly intuitive and thereby escaping prison, torture or death.
( )

This was an absolutely gripping read. It seems to be an anthology of short excerpts and "narratives" that have been selected, translated and edited by the two authors. In a foreword the two authors write that in some cases the translations are translations of translations, and while they have tried to go to the original sources, they were not always successful in doing so - for example they could not find in the original a short passage by Richard Burton which was in the Spanish edition!

Anyway, on to the work itself. The short narratives have many of the themes, motifs and imagery common to Borges' other works: dreams, labyrinths, mirrors, books, dopplegangers, prophecy and epiphany. They come from varied times and places - China, Arabia, Persia, Scandanavia, Europe, South America and so on. Some are, in the best Borgesian traditions synopses of other stories or books or narrated second hand. They seem to have been selected and arranged one after the other with some care, through the connections are not always obvious. I like to feel that the key to reading the book is provided by one particular piece which is 'The Pattern on the Carpet' which is an outtake from 'The London Adventure' by Arthur Machen in which he ruminates on a story by Henry James called 'The Pattern on the Carpet' which is about an author who has written many books which were all variations on one theme and that a common pattern, like the pattern of an Eastern carpet ran through them all. The story ends with the death of the author before he can reveal the nature of the pattern and one of his readers going through a whole shelf of his books trying to discern the pattern.

The stories from so many different and varied sources, I feel, are for Borges and Casares, variations on a similar theme. And it is entirely fitting that the narrative that alludes to this is a piece by an author writing about an author who has written about an author who has written countless variations on the same theme. Or, another way to look at it, The authors of this work are sharing with their readers a piece they read about another reader who read about a story about a reader who is trying to piece together the pattern that appears in a series of entirely imaginary books!

In such a way the short narratives flow from one to another, taking us backwards and forwards in time and in place, with the authorial voice changing constantly as well. There is a dreamlike quality to the reading experience, and I don't mind admitting that I did have some rather odd dreams last night, no doubt brought on by reading this before going to bed.

Perhaps my favourite narrative is the one that takes the common Borgesian motif of a labyrinth and turns it inside out: a Babylonian king has his architects design and construct a labyrinth so subtle that even the wisest men would lose themselves in it. He then tricked a visiting Arabian king into entering it, who wandered lost and confused for an entire day. In return the Arabian King vows to take the Babylonian king to a labyrinth that is even more impossible to escape from and takes and dumps him in the middle of the desert, "where there are no stairs to climb, nor doors to force, nor weary galleries to wander, nor walls to block your way." But the Babylonian King wanders lost and confused in the bare desert for the rest of his days, unable to escape this anti-labyrinth.

I loved this book and think I'll be dipping back into it again for days to come. Its a must for fans of Borges. ( )

la prosa es exquisita y el humor siempre fino. las premisas son ingeniosas, la intriga bien construida y las primeras 3/4 partes de cada cuento son un placer. las resoluciones de los cuentos son siempre apuradas y a la verdad son siempre decepcionantes. una lastima por que la voz del autor es muy amena, muy buena compañia. ( )