That's one of the more compelling moments in the book, all right. But Bolano had a habit of setting things up for reckless abandon and then letting all the excitement seep out in lengthy digression. The falcon/pigeon thing recounted, it just goes away unless you want to do the work of wondering what it all might mean on your own time. You just have to sign on for that.
Oh, and there's the New Yorker article on him, too:
Julio Cortazar's Hopschotch is one of the best novels I ever read, but the first eighty pages or so are a horrible morass of young intellectuals lazing around talking about jazz. I can't believe I got through it, but when I did, there was all sorts of nifty stuff.
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