taste. that really is the thing with bruce chatwin.
any work of art, indeed, any work of artistic endeavour, must answer to certain generic and cultural pressures and expectations. that which makes of the work of art an achievement in aesthetic terms is a function of the cultural complex in/from which that work is born. all recognition, all appreciation, to come right down to the oft-repeated, therefore, is culturally influenced. one would not/could not judge by the same parameters, a renaissance painting and a north american totem pole, say.
so how does chatwin do it? he cannot be consciously culturally aware about all the art he encounters/has ever encountered. so how does he do it? how does he know? and if it is something of an instinct with him (and what other explanation have we), well... what an instinct! what a gift! he somehow knows, somehow gets it.
that is what i here call taste.
chatwin had an impeccable eye.

for the technically correct. all of the above should have been written in the past tense. an enormous pity, really.

but then, he did say that he had contracted a rare virus, 'so rare it was known only to have attacked a few Chinamen and a beached whale, all of whom died.' (kerry ross boren might have to be taken cum grano salis, but it is an interesting read nevertheless.)
quite a piece of work, chatwin.

chatwin's notebooks and photographs are strongly recommended. and it is encouraging that penguin classics has in patagonia and that google beta has this penguin classic.