Hopscotch/La Rayuela

I should have broken my cardinal rule a few weeks ago: thou shalt not purchase a copy of a book when you have a library copy of that same book with you in your bag. And alas, this is how it ends that I returned Cortazar’s Hopscotch to the library, intending to buy a copy of it later that day, and came up empty. Should have bought it when I saw it, lesson learned.
Learned about the magical Cortazar from Bolano’s translator, and love it so far. I’m somewhere in the middle of the book, but the way he encourages you to read it, jumping from one section to the next via guideposts at the bottom of each chapter, I have no idea how far along I actually am. Storyline so far is an Argentinian writer (Oliveira) in Paris having an affair with La Maga (from Uruguay), getting drunk in Parisian lofts with other intellectuals. I need to own a copy of this book to continue reading– it is an intimate experience, jumping from one to the next, and I begin to feel weary with a library book’s closeness.