Came back to the Cottage... except it was burnt to the ground

Hello all, and welcome back to the cottage. 

The journey back to the cottage after last week's adventures (featuring Calvino) has not been without its bumps and mishaps--I nearly wrote about the wrong book because I misread the schedule, and was a good chunk into The Soldiers of Salamis before I checked the lectures and realized I was a whole week off. Thank goodness I caught that in time, but it also means I have yet to finish Money to Burn at the time I am writing this very post.

Returning to the topic of the novel itself, I am rather refreshed by the new genre that Money to Burn presents. Despite the fact that the stories we have encountered thus far do vary in their styles and themes, this one seems a bit more pronounced (for lack of a better word). There was a sense of urgency created by all the heist jargon in the very beginning, which felt like a much faster introduction than the ones that came before--I say faster to mean that I was quicker to become immersed in the story--and set up the premise in quite the efficient manner. Even without revealing it outright, I could immediately tell that we were witnessing preparations for some illegal activity (ignoring the fact that I read the CYOA blurb and watched the lecture videos beforehand to prime myself). 

Speaking of the lecture videos, I rather liked the question for this book about Piglia's choice to take liberties with the truth, especially considering that this story is based on true events. What was particularly fascinating to me as well was the fact that the second lawsuit pressed on Piglia had failed due to the fact that Money to Burn was a work of fiction--even though it was heavily based on real events and the fictitiousness in question really had more to do with the characterization of Dorda. 

I may have overlooked this detail had the novel been a work of fiction, not rooted in history and not based on a true event of which many were well informed of. But a writer is responsible for writing with veracity--and though this is flexible where style and fiction are concerned, I find it difficult to overlook in this particular case. I'd like to get people's thoughts: do you think Piglia owes us (the readers) the truth? Is it irresponsible for him to go to such lengths--for example, revising the novel and obtaining the facts--to find the truth only to have the novel be a dramatized version of the event?

I'll leave you with that, and I will take responsibility of my own to finish the novel for our discussions this week. 

This has been a true story.

Your Local Woodland Witch,

June

Comments

  1. Daniel OrizagaMarch 15, 2026 at 11:06 PM

    The novel also presents other striking elements related to the "problem of truth" you mention. For example, the way in which testimonies are mediated, biased, if you will. This occurs, in part, through the press, police reports, medical reports, and so on. That is a decidedly literary device.

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