And in the end, there is little closure, little resolution. In book five, we read:
In one of his last notes he mentions the chaos of the universe and says that only in chaos are we conceivable. In another, he wonders what will be left when the universe dies and time and space die with it. Zero, nothing. But the idea makes him laugh. Behind every answer lies a question…Behind every indisputable answer lies an even more complex question. (736)
Another of my favorite passages is this:
What a sad paradox, thought Amalfitano. Now even bookish pharmacists are afraid to take on the great, imperfect, torrential works, books that blaze paths into the unknown. They choose the perfect exercises of the great masters. Or what amounts to the same thing: they want to watch the great masters spar, but they have no interest in real combat, when the great masters struggle against that something, that something that terrifies us all, that something that cows us and spurs us on, amid blood and mortal wounds and stench. (896)
Lastly, my favorite passage:
Life is demand and supply, or supply and demand, that's what it all boils down to, but that's no way to live. A third leg is needed to keep the table from collapsing into the garbage pit of history, which in turn is permanently collapsing into the garbage pit of the void. So take note. This is the equation: supply + demand + magic. And what is magic? Magic is epic and it's also sex and Dionysian mists and play.
In conclusion, this is a book for lit lovers: people who like to sink their teeth into a work and unpack its literary elements and devices. 2666 is certainly unnerving in parts; at times it’s voyeuristic. It’s violent, erotic. Filled with mysticism. A whirlwind. And highly metaphoric. At times the language is excessive: it rambles on for lines and lines with little punctuation. It’s packed with figurative language. At other times it’s crisp, succinct, and void of emotion. It’s messy but simultaneously absorbing.