¿Quién es Klingsor? Detrás de este nombre en clave se oculta un personaje siniestro, o quizá sólo una leyenda. Los datos disponibles indican que es un científico para quien son familiares la mecánica cuántica, la teoría de la relatividad, las partículas subatómicas, la fisión, pero, ante todo, que es consejero de Hitler y responsable de las estrategias científico-bélicas del Reich, entre ellas, desarrollar la bomba atómica. Su búsqueda le es encomendada a Francis Bacon, físico teórico al que la guerra hará dejar de perseguir resultados científicos para perseguir seres humanos. Lo asiste en sus pesquisas Gustav Links, matemático que participó en un atentado fallido contra el Führer.

A fascinating tale. A whodunit (or rather a whoishe). The novel centres on the world of academic physics before and during the second world war and the hunt for the mysterious "Klingsor" of the title. This character, if he exists, was responsible for making all the scientific decisions under Hitler. A great story with a potted history of the development of Quantum Physics (in an easily understandable manner) on the way. Also tales of love and lust and very tangled relationships. Can you trust anybody? I highly recommend! ( )

On the flyleaf of my edition, it says that this has been compared to The Name of the Rose. Either the person who wrote this has never read The Name of the Rose or they had in mind that they’re both books. The comparison stops right there.

Badly written, badly translated, badly edited, this should never in a million years have made it onto the 1001 Books list. Writing in the 2008 edition of 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die, Oscar Rickett says the novel “moves on at a pace that allows for the development of the mystery.” Garbage. The mystery is about as hidden as a blancmange in a boxing ring. Mind you, I doubt Oscar Rickett’s view is too worthy of consideration. His bio in 1001 Books describes him as a “freelance writer and amateur clarinetist.”

You need look no further than the table of contents to find issues with this book. The page numbers bear no relation to the subsequent chapters. Further issues crop up regularly. For example, on page 43, a guy starts eating mushroom “vol au vents” before continuing to eat “mushroom sandwiches.”

But while the editor and translator bear some responsibility for this wreck, the bulk of the blame lies squarely with Volpi. The first hint that he might struggle with creative writing comes right off the bat with the choice of the name Francis Bacon for his protagonist. At this point, you’re holding hope that this is somehow symbolic. Will there be allusions to art, to philosophy? Er… no.

After Bacon inevitably gets involved with an obvious honeytrap, there’s a ludicrous piece of writing that literally goes like this

“Tell me what you do together”, Irene said as she took Bacon’s member into her hands, “What are you investigating?”

After he’s spilled the beans (no euphemism), the wordcraft continues

“I think it’s fascinating,” she whispered and, in place of her hands, her head travelled down along her lover’s body until her lips found themselves hovering upon Frank’s impatient penis.

Volpi wants to write a mystery. He’s ended up writing Mills & Boon.

Bacon sets out to discover the identity of Klingsor, a pseudonym for the scientist who controlled the Nazi nuclear programme. Along the way, he tracks down and interviews scientist after scientist with each interview demonstrating a wild array of questions many of which have no relevance to anything I could think of.

The book (or maybe the writer) suffers from schizophrenia. On the one hand Volpi wants to incorporate historical events such as (inexplicably) the 1944 attempt on Hitler’s life and every 1930s-40s nuclear scientist you can think of while on the other he attempts (and fails) to weave into this mess some kind of mystery.

In the end, you just don’t care who the eponymous Klingsor is. The novel drags so much that if you hitched it to the back of Hamilton’s Formula 1 car he wouldn’t finish a lap.

What Volpi has done here is utterly embarrassing. If you are at all interested in the historical events he touches on, do yourself a favour, avoid this and pick up a book from the wide array of relevant non-fiction by authors who can actually write. ( )

Sappiamo tutti che la bomba atomica l'hanno creata gli americani; molti di noi sanno anche che anche i tedeschi avevano un progetto corrispondente, che però non è mai riuscito a raggiungere lo stadio della fissione nucleare. Come mai? In questo libro il messicano Jorge Volpi racconta a modo suo, in una caccia al fantomatico consigliere scientifico "Klingsor", cosa pensavano i grandi fisici tra le due guerre, da Einstein a Bohr a Heisenberg. Già che c'era, ci ha infilato anche von Neumann e Gödel, e per non farsi mancare nulla ha anche aggiunto riferimenti al fallito attentato di Von Stauffenberg contro Hitler e condendo il tutto con una storia di spionaggio. Come romanzo storico, l'ambientazione e la presentazione dei personaggi è perfetta: eppure il libro mi ha lasciato piuttosto freddo, come se fosse più un esercizio di stile che altro. Il protagonista - un matematico - che si sdoppia, le tre parti del libro che iniziano tutte quasi fossero un saggio scientifico... il tutto resta troppo costruito, a mio parere. La traduzione è generalmente scorrevole, anche se Età Media mi suona troppo sospettosamente come Medioevo per non immaginare un lapsus. ( )

Dice Pennac que uno de los derechos del lector es dejar de leer un libro cuando quiera, pero también lo es llegar hasta el final aunque no se sepa muy bien el porqué.

"En busca de Klingsor" no acabo de leérmela ahora, pero como el Rincón del lector me lo permite voy a hacer en este momento mi apunte. He vuelto a la novela de Jorge Volpi al verla reseñada en la Guía 10 (año 2004, pág. 41) de la Fnac, es decir, de los 10 años de la Fnac ellos la han seleccionado como una de las mejores 100 de ese periodo. Yo, sin embargo, me la leí al poco de salir y conservo un recuerdo ambiguo: no la abandoné, pero tampoco llegó a entusiasmarme. Creo que la leí esperando constantemente que algo me despertara, me sedujera, pero no llegó a pasar, por eso me sorprende que haya sido elegida. También que Alberto Ruiz-Gallardón la elija como libro preferido en el “Magazine” 190 de “El Mundo” del 18 de mayo de 2003. Igualmente que aparezca en la “Revista de Física” (n.º 27, 2.º semestre 2004), a pesar de que en el “Ciberpaís” (22 de febrero de 2001) se le acuse del poco rigor científico. Quizá algo se me pasó por alto.

¿De qué trata? Lo copio del propio libro: “El joven teniente Francis P. Bacon recibe la orden de capturar al científico que controló las investigaciones atómicas del III Reich. Como Mefistófeles de Hitler, Klingsor, su nombre clave, supervisaba la organización secreta de físicos y místicos de la SS dedicada a resolver la construcción de la bomba atómica. Mientras persigue las huellas de Klingsor, y con ellas el rastro de complicidad de la elite alemana en los protocolos del horror, el teniente Bacon descubre a su vez los escurridizos dilemas del amor y el sexo, los disfraces de la personalidad, la infinita sutileza de la mentira, cayendo de bruces en la desgarradora encrucijada de la incertidumbre moral que preside nuestra época”. Bueno, la época de hace ya algunos años y la relación entre la ciencia y el mal. No recuerdo que fuera una novela fácil. ( )