If Locos is, or was, my fatal type, what I fell in love with, all unknowing, was the modernist novel as detective story. There is detective work, surely, supplied by Nabokov for the reader of Pale Fire. I mentioned Calvino, too, but there is another, quite recent example, which I nearly overlooked. The Name of the Rose, of course. It is not only a detective story in itself but it also contains an allusion to Sherlock Holmes and The Hound of the Baskervilles. But in Locos Sherlock Holmes is already present: while in England Pepe Bejarano pretends to have studied under him, which explains his uncanny ability to recover his uncle, the Prefect’s, wallet. The grateful police officer, who does not know whether Conan Doyle’s creation is a real person or not, wants to express his thanks. “ ‘Yes, Pepe, yes. I should like to write an official letter to that gentleman, to that great man — Cherlomsky, is that the name?’ “
Yes, there is a family resemblance to Nabokov, to Calvino, to Eco. And perhaps, though I cannot vouch for it, to Borges, too.
Mary McCarthy
Notes
[1] I must confess that when I heard the narrative of his dream by El Cogote, which I transcribe freely, I realized that Dr. de los Rios was right in saying that this man was an extraordinary person.
[2] Garcia had other plans for this story, but by substituting one coin for the other and creating an unexpected situation for him, I have him at my mercy. He has now no time to formulate a new plan of battle and I can make him do as I please and have the story follow along the lines I choose.
[3] That is what Garcia felt, but although he does not know it, I am the one who is forcing his actions. Since I had the inspiration of substituting the coins I have had him in my power and now can confidently leave him in the expert hands of the reliable veteran Don Laureano Baez.
[4] The reader may disregard this interruption of two characters whom I had not intended for this story, but who are endeavoring to complicate matters on the stage by making noise in the wings.
[5] For the second time these two characters are forcing themselves into this narrative against my orders. I had purposely placed them away in another room from that in which this scene is taking place, but since they cannot be seen, they are making themselves heard, and I am afraid we can no longer disregard them, as the other characters have already heard them and taken notice.
[6] The Dance of the Flea, a depraved performance usually given in second-rate theaters and cafés cantantes, in which a lady appears in a transparent nightgown with a candle in her hand and proceeds to look for an insidious flea which hides most cleverly, until it is found where every intelligent flea would hide.
[7] As a matter of fact, I lighted the match to illuminate the scene momentarily and get my bearings. When I began this story I did not foresee the inconvenience of such complete darkness and that it would be extremely difficult to make my characters move property without being able to see even the paper in front of me. However, my match went out too soon for me to ascertain much, but not for Pepe Bejarano to take action, and now everything is dark again and the characters will have to be left to their own resources, meanwhile waiting until tomorrow brings the consequences to light.
[8] To tell the truth, the character in the other room did not know how to play this composition and insisted on playing an inadequate popular dance throughout this scene, but this is one time I am determined to have my way and we shall have the more appropriate Rondeau instead.
[9] Several persons have objected to this passage which they find distasteful to say the least, among others my friend Dr. José de los Rios, and such characters as Madame Chinelato and the baby in question. I also objected to it, but Chinelato insisted upon being very evil at this point in the story. It is not my fault if, although personally preferring to have actual roast pork, Chinelato should prove unyielding in his culinary prerogatives. Besides like all stage dinners this is a make-believe one and the platter really held a cardboard dummy.