An intuitive reader might notice that some of this book verges on a kind of mysticism. That surrealistic superimposition of the mythic over the literal is clear from the scenes where Bobby tries to save Rafaela without really understanding that he is serving in that role, and that her son is named after Sol after the sun. This mythic detail adds a dual nature to the text, so that one must consider the meaning from two simultaneous perspectives. Also, the scene where a literal Arcangel brings a fruit to America as the installation of the real life Tropic of Cancer. That scene is also clearly mythic in nature.
Look at the strangely mythic scene in which a man named Murakami, perhaps after the world-famous master of literature by that name, Haruki Murakami, directs traffic that is permanently jammed. This scene is self aware in a way, because it obviously plays on the severity of another moment in life that often brings out the worst in people—regular traffic jams. Perhaps this is a surrealistic picture of some very accessible advice: "When you're stuck in traffic, don't resort to doom. Just listen to Murakami in your car and try to enjoy his symphonic mastery." What else is the reader supposed to conclude in light of Murakami's role as the conductor of traffic?
These little jokes are cleverly hidden behind the veil of the literal meaning of the words. But, the passages where mythic things happen unsuspectedly, the reader can take those as a kind of license to interpret all the stories of the book in the same mythic light. In terms of its mythic value, the traffic jam apocalypse serves two functions, not just one—it is inconvenient for those who own cars and commute, but for the chronically homeless in LA, it quickly becomes a dwelling place for a community. Perhaps it was for the best, the novel seems to suggest.
