A posthumous Bolano novel that touches on many of his lifelong themes

Readers of the late Roberto Bolano will find a lot of familiar ground in his new-in-English 200-page novel The Spirit of Science Fiction (first published in Spanish in 2016). Essentially, RB gives is three narratives running side-by-side in alternating chapters: A young author of experimental fiction who has just won a prestigious prize submits to an interview with a woman reporter - OK, but keep in short, she says - joke! - as the interview covers the whole span of the novel - in which for the most part he tells her the plot of his award-winning novel; a young man (Remo) and his best friend (Jan) leave their native Chile and settle into an attic apartment in Mexico City, the cultural center of Spanish-language writing at that time, and for the most part we follow Remo's narration as he links up with a several writers' circles and publications, forms a friendship with a charismatic poet and motorcyclist, Juan, and meets several women writers with various consequences; and Jan, a bit of an agoraphobe, pretty much stays in the attic apartment and writes letters to well-known scifi writers, seeking advice and support. To me the best segments by far are about the literary scene in Mexico City - these are brimming w/ life and observation and really give us the sense, as do many of RB's other works, of what it's like for a young writer trying to break in and find his voice and his readership, however minute, and to get by living on fumes and minute payments for brief essays and reviews - most of them in magazines that nobody reads (supermarket handouts) and that must keep above water through donations of a sponsor or angel. It's a culture in some ways unique to its time and place (late 20th C.), but in other ways familiar to all who are or were aspiring young writers with a dream (and no $). I don't expect any great resolution in this novel - as RB continued to work the same material over and over in his short lifetime, but scene b scene there are some fine moments, in particular walking the streets of Mexico City at night seeking an open cafe, drinking and talking till dawn in the attic loft. I have to give a thumb-down to Penguin Press, the publisher, for giving us no information at all about this provenance of this novel; it's well known that RB, who died about 10 years ago, left behind many manuscripts, presumably including this one. Why was it never published in his lifetime? Did he complete it, or abandon it? When did he compose it? At the very least, this edition should have a preface answering those questions and providing some context.