The gods are not playing with us. Indeed, the gods are almost absent -- though the beat of theology and philosophy play on, an ever-present reminder of the possibility of something just out of reach, something we are not quite meant to know, yet cannot help but ponder. And ponder it we do, in all seriousness, at times (as in La escritura de dios). And with that strange humor unique to Borges at others (as in El Aleph).
Of course, El Aleph gives us much to ponder: the nature of infinity, how a god might see the universe (or a universe). And, then, Borges seems to get his sense of humor back. For the bombastic poet the fictional Borges despises, the little-known librarian who wins second prize in a literary contest, is all too similar in life experience to the real-life Borges himself.
But there is always a place in literature for bloody revolution, inexorable fate, cold-blooded revenge, Medieval Spanish philosophers, references to Spengler's cyclicalism and to Cantor's set theory, and just a touch of snobbery and humor. And Borges has it all.
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