The dog, a tiger-striped mastiff was far as I could tell, unlike the usual mail carriers who month after month leave the magazines I anxiously await in the next door neighbours entrance-way, knew what he was doing. After giving me the envelope he looked at me with determination and, I now believe, with hope. He ran to the door, stood up on his hind legs, leaned on the latch, tried to open it. He couldnt. I suppose that what then occurred was a conflict between his intelligence, extraordinary for an animal, and the reflexes of his species. The reflexes won over, the dog howled. The howls guided the hurried footsteps of a ragamuffin with very bushy eyebrows who works at the dog school on Estomba Street. When the dog saw him, he rapidly attempted a counter-attack and escape. He was restrained without difficulty.I really have no idea why this book fascinates me but it does. Admittedly, it is not as good as The Invention of Morel but still its incredibly zany, satirical and in parts is absolutely insane. In fact at times I began to wonder what on earth possessed me to continue reading the book.The novel begins simply enough but gradually plunges into utter confusion. The self-effacing Lucio Bordenave has recently lost his job at the bank and is living on the proceeds that he makes from making/repairing clocks. His wife (annoyingly referred to as the missus throughout the book) Diana is always complaining but Lucio puts up with it because after all shes so very beautiful. But then gradually he becomes extremely frustrated with Dianas rather odd behaviour which begins when she goes to a dog handler/teacher, Professor Standle, as shes decided on a whim that she wants a dog.As Diana progressively spends more and more time at his dog school, without choosing one of the dogs, Professor Standle suggests to Lucio that she should be taken to the nearby Mental Institute to be treated. Lucio agrees and so shes taken away just like that. Can you imagine deciding to do that on more or less a whim?Lucio becomes more and more distressed at what he has done and has to bring her home. Upon her return, Diana is different. Ceferina, a relative who has stayed with Lucio since his mother died, is convinced that there is something wrong with the missus. She makes such snide digs that they add to the beauty of the story. Even Lucio is disturbed.Well dogs, surprisingly one also called Diana, become involved, as does the sister-in-law Adriana María, who is practically identical in looks to her sister Diana. Experiments are taking place in the mental institute on souls and various other extraordinary things. Soon one cannot tell the difference between the dogs and the humans.The plot, yes, does sound bizarre but this book is so skillfully written, tantalizing, has a carnival flavour to it and is also ludic, that I can truly understand why Jorge Luis Borges, who was to become Bioys mentor, friend and collaborator, thought so highly of his writing prowess. The novel is divided into two parts: the first where Lucio is writing about the bizarre events and the second by Félix Ramos, an outsider observing these odd times.I have never been to the Argentine but I would love to see Buenos Aires and this book has certainly been an encouraging factor.The word that most intrigued me in the book was maté as many individuals appeared to enjoy drinking it. After hunting around it transpires that it is the national drink of the Argentine and comes under different names:Yerba Mate or hierba mate or erva mate, in Portuguese (Ilex paraguariensis), or sometimes called simply maté, is a species of holly (family Aquifoliaceae) native to subtropical South America in Northern Argentina, Paraguay, Uruguay and Southern Brazil and Bolivia. It is used as a herbal tea.Imagine a species of holly!Well if you want to have some fun, do read this book. I highly recommend it. Believe me!

Casares is a powerful storyteller, as seen in the esteem in which Borges held him, and novels like The Invention of Morel and Diary of the War of the Pig. But this one, a tale of the loves of humans and dogs, and the dubious aids of science, falls a little flat. To be sure, it's a quick read and page-turner by the finish, as Casares plotting never fails him. However, the path into that exciting story is a little jumbled and irritating. For one, though our narrator is a watch-maker, Casares, here, is not. I get the feeling that his gear-wheels don't exactly match up and he's wedging in improper parts to get the watch faced closed on all the elements his design demands. As a result, the construction doesn't really tick, neither with mechanical precision, nor with the warmth of the human heart that his non-watchmaking side demands. Which is in part due to the second problem, that he's written all of our key female characters as unsympathetically irrational, nagging, and annoying. Or protagonist loves his wife, but we can't entirely tell why, and even he admits maybe its just for her body. Not strong emotional clockwork here. Of course, our watchmaker isn't much better -- he's slow, easily manipulated, and puts the aforementioned wife in an asylum before anyone, reader or character, establish that anything is wrong with her. Of course, he regrets it immediately, and my sympathy for her was awakened, but by then it was too late for that. By the time the plot picked up, I was fully on board just to see what was happening, but I'd been shoved at a distance from nearly everyone involved. Sheer narrative thrill might have eventually taken over, but here the book was somewhat defeated by bad-blurbing. The Goodreads-supplied blurb is so wholly inaccurate as to seem to have been written by someone who had only barely heard about the book, while the blurb on my issue gave away secrets not revealed until the last 10 pages, which is a pretty horrifying blunder that really killed the narrative pleasures. My suggestion: go in totally totally blind, with fresh expectations, and then come and tell me if it's better that way.

Just finished Asleep in the Sun by Adolfo Bioy Casares. Haven't spent a lot of time pondering it yet, but I'm not really sure if I liked it or not. I do like that it is South American surrealism (to a small extent), has resemblances to Kafka, and ponders the meaning of identity -- the body or the soul? Of course, in pondering these things, you can also enter some sinister & disturbing territory too; I love the challenge & thinking, while the horror gives me pause. Definitely one that would not be to everyone's liking, but a somewhat unique read for those who like (somewhat disturbing) philosophical pondering. Maybe not a pool or beach read though, lol.