This will not be an easy review to write. Labyrinths by Jorge Louis Borges is absolutely the greatest short story collection I’ve ever read, though I was full of loathing for all of the first story until I caught on. Our man Borges is, above all, just a celestial writer. You get the sense, after rereading a line for the sixth time, that no other word fits as well as each of these to convey the subtle meaning behind each sentence. Sometimes it strikes awe. The first story is about the discovery of a made up planet contained entirely in fictitious works littered throughout the ages. Its own set of words, prose, history, life, etc. I was horrified trying to figure out what it meant. The next story is about a man trying to escape from a fate he knows he will face, while running from war into his own personal possibilities. I regret that I can in no way accurately describe ANY of these pieces, for to do so would be insulting. The meaning and writing is so intricate and astoundingly forged that it becomes flawless. Borges happens also to be dark-matter in terms of writing density, and not easy to get through in the least.
I promise “labyrinth” will not appear in the next book review.
I have never in my life found a book so correctly titled. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that each of the stories is actually a labyrinth in itself, and the mind of the reader is bent trying to make sense of each. There are immortals, a lottery, a giant library, and lots of Don Quixote. You read through each story, seeing one dimension as the plot rolls along, loving the lexicon of this fucking genius, only to realize you’ve been upside down the whole time. I was shocked by each and every story, despite knowing how alarming the previous piece was. As well, Borges throws in some of his essays on (get this) time. I was tripping out. This guy is Argentina’s best writer, and a hell of a philosopher, and he just decides to make you think about time as a labyrinth. You know, to go along with all of his unparalleled short works of fiction, also throwing you into maze-walls you had thought were not there.
It is hard to recommend this book, but harder not to. It’s dense. Dense as hell. But if you give yourself to it, and aren’t afraid to reread what you don’t understand, I am so certain you’ll get something out of this book that you cannot find elsewhere.
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~Sam Scrimger
Widdershins Lit 