The Review of Contemporary Fiction
62: A Model Kit by Julio CortázarT.J. Gerlach
Julio Cortázar. 62: A Model Kit. Trans. Gregory Rabassa. New Directions, 2000. 281 pp. Paper: $14.00.
The love triangle at the heart of Cortázar’s Hopscotch gave rise to prose in which desire was poured out in long, breath-taking passages of unrestrained lyricism. 62: A Model Kit, which takes its cue from chapter 62 of Hopscotch, is shorter and more subdued than its predecessor. The atmosphere is less orgasmic, more postcoital, shrouded in gray and grounded in what the novel calls depressence—“A depression is like something that makes you go lower and lower. . . . On the other hand, a depressence keeps raising up everything around you. You fight against it but it’s useless, and finally you are left on the ground like a leaf.” Rather than Hopscotch’s triangle, 62: A Model Kit is structured around overlapping pairs and parallels. As with most of Cortázar’s work there is a loose, dreamy quality to the prose, which is played up by a point of view which can drop from third into first person midsentence. The prose is still gorgeous, but gains its power not through overflowing exuberance, but through saturation and condensation. The novel opens with the main character, Juan, overhearing an innocent enough phrase spoken by a customer in a restaurant. But for Juan, who is an interpreter by trade, it immediately becomes anything but innocent. The phrase takes on a double meaning which continues doubling and expanding in Juan’s mind. What is important in the novel that ensues is not plot in the traditional sense, but the unpacking of the resonances and associations embedded in that simple moment of eavesdropping. While much of the attention given 62: A Model Kit stems from its connection to Hopscotch, the novel is important in its own right. New Directions’ reissue repairs what was a regrettable gap in the available works of Cortázar. [T. J. Gerlach]