Francisco Coloane (1910–2002)

This is a collection of nine exquisite stories by revered Chilean author Francisco Coloane. Coloane spins tales in spare, expressive prose about life in the lonely pampas, mountains and rugged islands and coastlines of Chile's southernmost country. For the most part, the characters are men, in small groups or in pairs, interacting for good or ill with the hazzards of land and sea and with their own frailties, both spiritual and physical, and, of course, with each other. In one of my favorite show more stories in the collection, "The Empty Bottle," two men, unknown to each other, meet at random as they ride their horses across the pampas. Their journeys are taking them in the same direction, so they ride along together for a while, lost in their own thoughts. The younger of the two thinks of his fiance, waiting in a far off town, and his desire to return to her. The older thinks of a murder he has committed years back in almost identical circumstances.

One of the blurbs on the book's cover refers to Coloane as "the Jack London of our times." I suppose in terms of subject matter, this might be apt. Stylistically to me it seems less so, though admittedly it's been a long time since I read much London. This is going to be a fairly obscure reference, but Coloane's writing brought to mind for me that of Finnish author Väinö Linna's "Under the North Star" trilogy. Another of my favorites, here, "How the Chilote Otey Died," about a group of survivors of a failed uprising on the run from pursuers intent on deadly retribution, particularly reminded me of Linna.

Here is Pablo Neruda's quote as offered on the back cover of my Europa Edition copy of this collection:

"Long arms, arms like rivers, are necessary to fully embrace Francisco Coloane. Or perhaps it's necessary to be a squall of wind, gusting over him beard and all. Otherwise, take a seat across the table from him and analyze the question, study him deeply; you will surely end by drinking a bottle of wine with Francisco and happily postponing the matter to some later date."

I had never heard of Coloane until my wife and I traveled in Argentina and southern Chile this past November. We spent almost a week on the large Chilean island of Chiloe, and happened to visit the town of Quemchi, where Coloane was born, and where there is a statue of him in the town square. In fact, the square is basically dedicated to him. My curiosity piqued, upon returning home I immediately went online and ordered two collections of his stories in translation, this one, and [Cape Horn and other Stories from the End of the World]. I will immediately be putting Cape Horn into my "between book" reading rotation. show less

Here is the magic of libraries again, those fathomless oceans of story that cast up rare marvels and monstrosities, and unimagined jewels lost to time in their obscuring depths, for us beachcombers to find. Coloane was a much beloved writer in his native Chile, and is only just now reaching America with this and one other collection of tales. I think there are some other things in English, and hopefully much more to follow. A jacket blurb compares him to Jack London, which is apt in a number show more of ways. The world of his stories is the furthest verge of South America, a stark landscape of rocks and sea, windswept pampas and cliffs. And gold. Gold that appears in traces among the dark ferrous sands, beneath the bleached bones of a whale. Gold that drives men mad. Men who struggle and strive in the vertiginous chasm between great riches and starvation, while migratory sea birds cast a cold eye on it all from above. Most of the men just get by, clinging to their ships and rocks like crabs, clinging to their superstitions and beliefs, including a childish faith in the myth of the self-made man. Here too, Coloane and London meet in their unsparing view of society – a hard and mostly indifferent world where men are not masters, but subjects, all. Coloane was a communist while London was a socialist; both have the skeptical sympathy of men who have lived hard and seen a great deal. One story about a strange, hidden valley and the strange ones who dwell there even recalls London’s fantastic side. And finally – and this may be all you need to know – there is the great sense of adventure, which was heightened by the fact that Patagonia and the Straits of Magellan are so strange and unfamiliar to me. It reminded me of reading London as a child, my wondering soul harkening to those mythic lands far to the North. I will definitely be looking out for more Coloane. show less

Wonderfully descriptive short stories set in the brutally beautiful landscapes of Tierra del Fuego. Harsh descriptions of how this desolate landscape, sat between two hammers, the sea and the Andes, crushes all humanity before the west wind comes through to blow away the dust. I would have to believe that these stories have strongly influenced the writing of Cormac McCarthy.

A beautiful read, and I really, really want to go to Tierra del Fuego now.

Please read blurb first. Any book both Alvaro Mutis and Pablo Neruda love is aces. For starters.

Coloane has the initial great gift of a vast and terrifying beautiful landscape on which human beings stand as if on the moon. And he does it justice, mostly, in his tales of human beings living their lives out, scratching small marks in this country. Many lives-and-deaths he depicts as single events-- it's a scale issue. This is instinctively brilliant, and limns the true size of his real show more character, the land and sea at the very end of the Americas, marked with names like Port Eden and Last Hope Sound. show less