René de Costa’s insight lines this biography (somewhat separately, it was his call for a reappraisal of venture of the infinite man that catalyzed me to propose the project to City Lights). A coda to our Nerudian relationship occurred recently during a long afternoon spent with him in Barcelona, where he is now retired, just after I delivered this book to Ecco from its Catalan shores. The richness of the conversation we sustained recalled the time I first visited him at the University of Chicago in 2004. We had been participants together in events celebrating Neruda’s centennial that year. At the same time, René was preparing his office for that move to Spain. And at one point he reached up and plucked a woodprint from where it hung on the wall above his desk. It was the artwork from the cover of his seminal book The Poetry of Pablo Neruda. He handed it to me, saying something along the lines that I should have it. It’s a gesture that still humbles me, one that has fortified me through the fight to finish this book.
Along with what I have gained from these kindred scholars, my research is built upon the monumental work of some truly fastidious, impassioned erudites. Many of their names are signaled in the bibliography, but some merit extra recognition: the endnotes should testify to how important Dr. David Schidlowsky’s incredibly relentless research effort has been. The emotion we shared in our correspondence made all that information even more significant. I so appreciate the blessing he has given my venture. This book owes so much to him, as it does to Hernán Loyola and his tremendous, noble Nerudian work across the decades, from the many manifestations of his analysis to his scrupulous compilation of the Obras completas. Edmundo Olivares’s trilogy on Neruda’s experience abroad was broadening. Besides the value of his writings, Peter Wilson took the time to answer my doubts via email. Ever since our first café next to Chile’s Biblioteca Nacional, Raymond Craib has awed me with his insight. Fortunately his scholarship on the Chilean student movement is available for all to read through his writings. I met Federico Leal at a Nicanor Parra talk, where he turned me on to his exclusive look at Neruda’s relationship with opium and other facets of his time in the Far East. I appreciate his spirit and his willingness to share early drafts of his work with me. Roanne Kantor’s intuitiveness brought up groundbreaking questions about the Far East periods as well, most significantly around Josie Bliss. I am moved to laughter again recalling our conversations and the dynamism of Roanne’s genius. It was Megan Coxe who introduced me to Roanne; the two studied at Austin together. While Megan’s contribution to the seemingly ceaseless translation of original material was valuable, her friendship and grounding concern, particularly about this project, has been a warmth and a comfort.
Throughout the years, through his books and emails, the so cariñoso Bernardo Reyes, grandson of Neruda’s half brother, Rodolfo, provided many answers for me, especially with regard to his great-uncle’s childhood. He also generously allowed me to use photos from his precious collection. I also had the great fortune to have the help of the brilliant Patricio Mason, great-great-grandson of Charles Mason, head of the Temuco Mason clan.
I received invaluable research assistance in Santiago from a trio of young freshly graduated literary students. It started with Jimena Cruz’s diligent help, particularly obtaining articles from the National Library when little was digitalized yet. Later, Francisca Torres and Tania Urrutia provided consistently ingenious assistance. And on the other side of the Andes, Natalie Prieto was essential in educating me and aiding my research concerning Neruda’s time in Argentina. Above all, the friendship, the laughs, the learning.
Isabel Allende’s writing brought me to Chile before I set foot there. Upon my return, she doubled her influential effect, providing her time and thoughtfulness as she shared her personal connection to both poet and country with me directly.
So many have opened their doors to me throughout this journey, and a humble gracias to all those who invited me into their homes and their personal Nerudian worlds (or gave me time on the street): there are too many to list here without leaving some equally deserved mention out, but all their names, whether or not they appear on a page, are imprinted within. In memoriam, though: José Miguel Varas, Sergio Insunza, Sara Vial, Francisco Velasco, Marie Mariner. Lily Gálvez, who embodies humanitarian warmth, helped introduce me to many of Neruda’s friends in Santiago.
In 2015 I was invited into the home of Rosa Ermilla León Muller, the niece of Teresa León Bettiens, Neruda’s Temuco muse. The enchantment Teresa realized continues down the generations. Rosa, her children and grandchildren, and the laugher that afternoon just filled up my tank. Our continued long-distance communication has sustained the life-affirming fulfillment their spirit provides.
In Puerto Saavedra, where Pablo and Teresa’s romance played out along the shore, I was welcomed by the lively Eugenia Vivanca, head of the town’s library, which is a continuation of Augusto Winter’s, in which Neruda spent so many afternoons. She took me to the lost red poppy gardens and the specific hills sloping to the sea on which Neruda’s poetry and personality developed across so many crucial summers.
To the east of Puerto Saavedra and
