The New Yorker has a story everyone should read who wants to better understand what the hell is going on in 2666.

More on that in a second. But first some necessary background: one of the most enigmatic characters in 2666 is Lalo Cura, a young man whose name roughly translates as Themad Ness (i.e. The Madness). This enigmatic character pops up during the awfulness of “The Part About the Crimes,” and he seems to be a sort of ray of hope amidst the soul-crushing carnage of Bolano’s fictionalized Ciudad Juarez.

Bolano loved to link his works, and buried in “The Part About the Crimes” is a little story that suggests that Lalo Cura is the son of either Ulises or Arturo from The Savage Detectives. As I wrote in a footnote to my review of 2666:

Those obsessed with how Bolaño’s novels and stories interconnect should note that Arturo Belano and Ulises Lima briefly appear in section 4: “In 1976, the young Maria Exposito met two students from Mexico City in the desert who said they were lost but appeared to be fleeing something and who, after a dizzying week, she never saw again.” This comes at the end of a rather long section narrating the lineage of five generations of Maria Expositos (a reasonable English translation of the name would be “Jane Doe”), and Ulises and Arturo stick around long enough to father Lalo Cura.

Although, hang on, they might not be the fathers. But first, Javier Moreno also takes note of Lalo Cura in his essay on how Bolano’s works intersect:

The importance of these critical points when exploring the Bolañian universe shouldn’t make us overlook the rest of his work. Each book, in my opinion, has a role within the structure. Some are channels for communication between milestones; some suggest intimate links between fictional nodes. For instance, Amuleto, which tells the story of an Uruguayan poet that claims herself to be the mother of all Mexican writers, may be seen both as an extra chapter to Los Detectives or as a short introduction to 2666—or both at the same time. The story is there, it cannot be avoided. Some other books are detailed elaborations of incidents mentioned before or to be mentioned later on. Estrella Distante, for instance, is an expansion of the last chapter of La literatura nazi. One possible beginning of Lalo Cura (Ness Themad could be a good translation, I imagine), a character from 2666, is explored in one of the short stories of Putas Asesinas. And guess who could be the long lost father of Lalo Cura? Guess, just guess . . .

And now you can read that story in The New Yorker: Prefiguration of Lalo Cura.

And as to Lalo’s father:

I’ll tell you everything, naturally. My father was a renegade priest. I don’t know if he was Colombian or from some other country. But he was Latin American. He turned up one night in Medellín, stone broke, preaching sermons in bars and whorehouses.

Good God, I never would have guessed Lacroix from By Night in Chile. That suggests a whole new reading for “the wizened youth.”