genius or attention deficit disorder?
Befitting of a genius with an active and wide-ranging mind, Bruce Chatwin has a charm and intensity that might lead you to believe he has attention deficit disorder. Drifting from one narrative thread to the next between chapters (each just a few pages long), he delves deep into the story of each person he meets, and substantiates these stories with literary and/or historical references. Though a few themes recur (e.g., the search for the lost mylodon and the story of Butch Cassidy's escape to Argentina), this is a book that is easy to put down between fragmented sections. And yet, it is still overall an enjoyable work.

Travelers are far more likely to go to Patagonia to avoid people than to learn about them, but Chatwin gracefully pulls of this challenge. Selflessly, he leaves himself out of the story- though Nicholas Shakespeare's introduction notes that Chatwin had a noteable love affair and was arrested in Chile. Unfortunately, Chatwin's narrative is short on dialogue and his description of people is typically terse and short on details, which prevents characters from coming to life. However, Chatwin shows traces of poetic brilliance ("music ghosted from the piano as leaves over a headstone"), an eye for metaphor (noting that in the obscure Yaghan language the word for depression is the same as the word for a crab's vulnerable phase after sloughing off a shell), persistence (evidenced by his uncovering of the origin of the name Patagonia), and bits of dry humor ("The Indian settlements were strung out along the railway line on the principle that a drunk could always get home.").

not what I expected
For a long time, I wanted to get familiar with Bruce Chatwin's work. I managed to get "In Patagonia" as the first of his books I could read.

The beginning was very promising. The narrator (writing in author's voice, in the first person), as a child, finds in his grandmother's dining-room cabinet a strange piece of leather covered with thick, reddish hair. His mother tells him it is a piece of brontosaurus brought by his grandmother's cousin, Charley Milward, from Patagonia. This piece of information fed his young imagination and led him to go and explore the South American wild land on his own.

In many short chapters, written in eloquent prose, Chatwin describes his encounters with Patagonian people, interchanging his quasi-travelogue with historical notes and anecdotes, and the tracing of Charley's footsteps. The impressions and anecdotes are freely mixed and he comes back to subject he abandoned before. This results in a strange read. I could not connect with this book at all and it took some effort to persevere with reading. I liked the historical oddities he found, the story of the self-proclaimed king, Orelie-Antoine, the notes on Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and their adventures in South America, or Thomas Bridges and his dictionary of Yaghan. Chatwin's impressions from his journey and his observations did not move me at all.

I have still two more of Chatwin's books, "What I am doing here" and "Songlines" and I intend to read them, but I hope I will like them more than "In Patagonia".

An old favorite.

This is a re-read for me. I actually gave my copy to my partner years and years ago when we were in that relationship stage where you try to prove your meant-to-be-ness to each other by sharing books and music. I figured that since we both loved travel writing and we both had a dream of visiting Argentina, then Bruce Chatwin was a safe bet. (He's been a favorite writer of mine since falling in love with his work through the film version of Utz.)

I couldn't have been more off-base. He read it all right, but he really didn't like it. I think that I wouldn't be exaggerating to say that it actively irritated him. Since then he's tried a couple more times to read Chatwin, each one a failure. That remains the Dividing Line of Travel Writers for us-- I like eccentric people who talk about characters and odd history. B. wants to read about the beauty of the landscape and the things that a person can do while visiting. We have an awful lot of Meant-To-Be-Ness in other ways, but not travel writing, apparently.

Anyhow. I loved it. As I loved it the first time. I like the character of Chatwin as he meanders across the scene. I enjoy the way that he meditates on the people and on the history that affects their and his lives. I find that the loose way that he ties everything together works very well for me. I love and share his love of walking, and what that teaches you about where you are.

We have not yet made it to Argentina as a couple, but when we go, I'll be clutching this book under my arm. Recommended.

In Patagonia gets better with time
I am enjoying every single one of the short, sometimes very short, ninety seven stories of Bruce's In Patagonia. I do not miss at all the lack of a threading narrative giving unnecessary details of how he got from one town to the next. Perhaps in this era of short attention span and infinite linking our minds have morphed into absorbers of high density language only, and In Patagonia is all wheat and no chaff.

I must admit that Bruce's credibility was enhanced by the mention of some names like Teófilo Breide: I went to school with another member of that arab family with expansive land possessions near Epuyén. But beyond the actual names, Bruce's description of places, character, circumstances and attitudes is so accurate, so masterly perceived and conveyed that his prose invariably conjures up the scene in my mind, and I re-read to savour every sentence, at times a single word, as if sipping expensive wine.

If you have never been to Patagonia, reading this book is next to knowing Patagonia well. I am fortunate enough to enjoy both privileges.

"go to Patagonia for me" she said
In Chatwin's uncollected writings, posthumously titled "Anatomy of Restlessness", he recounts how he went to Patagonia on the suggestion of a ninety three year old friend of his. He went and returned six months later with the makings of a book. "While stringing its sentences together, I thought that telling stories was the only conceivable occupation for a superflous person such as myself".

"In Patagonia" is part travelogue, part history, and part anecdotal tour. This book has a discursive nature about it that stands on its own terms; it is composed of vignettes, loosely related, yet glued together with Chatwin's compelling narrations. He bounces around, describing the evocative landscapes of the Patagonian wilds; the legends of Butch Cassidy and his sidekick are teased out; there is his take on Darwin's theory as it applies to the unique fauna; he tells us of a self-proclaimed King of Patagonia and all his french connections; and he detours through discussions of half a dozen literary lights, none of which are even remotely connected with Patagonia. But . . .

It is Chatwin's imagination that is the guide, even if you're left wondering what happened to the trail. It is a non-linear journey and thus, a book full of twists and turns. He lived out his nomadic proclivities as he walked and hitchhiked around this vast region. The book that emerged from this ramble shows Chatwin's tremendous metaphoric powers; the magnetism of these narratives is undeniable. This is truly one fascinating read.

Most highly recommended.

Parataxis

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