Memoria de Mis Putas Tristes

ISBN: 1400095808
ISBN 13: 9781400095803
By: Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez

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About this book

Cuenta la vida de este anciano solitario, un apasionado de la música clásica, nada aficionado de las mascotas y lleno de manías. Por él sabremos cómo en todas sus aventuras sexuales (que no fueron pocas) siempre dio a cambio algo de dinero, pero nunca imaginó que de ese modo encontraría el verdadero amor.

Reader's Thoughts

1da

Memoria de mis putas tristes...I LOVE Gabriel García Marquez. He weaves his magical realism right into your brain and it's like I was peeking in through a window rather than reading. I've read a few not so good reviews of this novella and they cannot be more wrong. Yes, Gabo's intricate magical realism is not as pronounced as it is say in Cien años de soledad (100 Years of Solitude), but it's definitely there. If you missed it, I suggest you go back and reread because it is there. This was a short and bittersweet read. I felt like I was starving waiting for a 3 course meal and got only the appetizer. This book let me read it so quickly that it left me with a hungry, hollow empty feeling. So, I read it again as soon as I finished it and I found many new tidbits to fill me up.Nostalgia and melancholy...blueberries, raspberries, rhubarb and star fruit topped with smooth fluffy cream...all that sweet and tart that just kinda explodes into your mouth. So bitter inside my mouth that I felt tears welling in my throat then suddenly the sweetness of the cream and everything seemed like pure bliss. Yellows, reds, greens, blues and pure pure white. Something about the way GGM writes that he evokes colors and flavors vs just words on the page. Don't miss the point, this novella, as I've seen commented, is not just about a lonely old man who never found true love nor do I think it's Gabo's farewell to his readers. Don't let brevity lead you to think this is a shallow little story. This novella delves into some deep themes like love, sexuality, prostitution, pedophilia, aging, soul searching and, one of my favorite themes, the lover and the beloved. Oh and it has a moral.I highly recommend you read this...twice even. On and if you can, read it in Spanish. The translation is great, but some things just don't translate.

Rubi

¿Criticada y prohibida en algunos países por hacer apología de la prostitución infantil? ¿En serio?La última novela publicada por Gabo me ha parecido espectacular. No sólo me ha hecho plantearme muchas cosas acerca de la edad, del amor y del paso del tiempo, sino que además ha logrado sacarme alguna que otra lagrimita. Nunca es tarde para enamorarse; lo sabe muy bien el protagonista, un hombre de 90 años que cae preso del amor. Una historia fabulosa, muy bien hilada y que no defrauda.Da gusto leer las obras de este pedazo de ser humano.

Bonnie

My rating: 3.5 of 5 stars ‘Age isn’t how old you are but how old you feel.’ Memories of My Melancholy Whores opens with a most surprising statement from our unnamed narrator: “The year I turned 90, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin.” While this might not inspire any sort of positive feelings towards this man, the truth is he has lived long enough to not really care because his lasciviousness is simply who this man is and has always been. Introduced to love-making at an early age in a local brothel, he boastfully states that he has never gone to bed with a woman that he didn’t pay to do so. After a statement like that it comes as no surprise that he was also the twice crowned client of the year. He stopped keeping track of his sexual escapades at age 50 when he had reached 514 tallies.Memories of My Melancholy Whores may not feature your typical grandfatherly figure but our narrator still manages to charm us in his liveliness even at such an advanced age. While sleeping with virgins won’t likely be on my bucket list when I reach 90, being in a healthy position to do so regardless is definitely something to aim for. Our unnamed narrators story stirs up comparisons to another older fellow who was fond of a young girl, one Humbert Humbert. ‘Seeing and touching her in the flesh, she seemed less real to me than in my memory.’ The way this story was written is also similar to Lolita in that it almost feels like an attempt to explain and defend his feelings for what happened between him and the 14 year old girl he names Delgadina. Instead, his actions would indicate that he has no reason to not be truthful and that his decision to call upon Rosa Cabarcas and ask for the girl was the first step towards doing what he should have done all along: look for love. Not unexpectedly, this is not your typical love story. Our unnamed narrator is smitten with the young girl, yet even he can see the ridiculousness of the situation he has found himself in, especially when his meets with the girl are always while she’s asleep. He reads her stories and strokes her body and while away from her he fantasizes of a life spent together with her. ‘...that was the beginning of a new life at an age when most mortals have already died.’ Memories of My Melancholy Whores is more than just an unlikely story of love. It is also about when reaching the point in your life and being able to look back on how you’ve spent yours causes you to change and transform into the person you had always intended to be. For one that spent his life never truly knowing love, it finally came to him when least expected.

Robert

The review I wrote for amazon.A curious and lovely bookIn the US, we understand sexy but we struggle with the erotic. We read the body like we read the newspaper, by habit; with a glance. Our real failure in love is our failure to take our time. It's not in our nature to wait, to sample, to savor. We rush into love as if we were late to an appointment. Gabriel Garcia Marquez in his MEMORIES OF MY MELANCHOLY WHORES doesn't rush. The book is a seduction and moves at that quiet lazy confident pace. The protagonist turns 90 and, mindful of his mortality, wants what he's never had: "A night of wild love with an adolescent virgin." Of course, desire is a dream and dreams are an attempt to remember. And, what do we want to remember, everything, everyone we've ever loved. Memory, though, is an admission of loss. Desire is our strategy to reclaim what was lost. Of course, memory is a trickster...and that's part of the joy of this book, as the "Professor," defies death less through contact with flesh, than though memory and desire. In this book as in life, it is the approach, it is anticipation, that sets us on fire.

Amir

این کتاب آخرین داستان بلند گابریل گارسیا مارکز هست... کتاب در سال 2004 نوشته شده و ترجمه فارسی اسم کتاب میشه خاطرات روسپی های سودا زده من... کتاب در ایران با اسم خاطره دلبران سودازده من چاپ شد و بعد از اینکه چاپ شد وزارت ارشاد ممنوع اعلامش کرد و شروع کرد به جمع کردنش و با مسئولانی هم که مجوز چاپ داده بودن به شدت برخورد کرد و به نقل از خود وزارت ارشاد اخراجشون کرد... .توضیح مختصری در مورد کتاب بگم براتون... سبک نوشتاری کتاب کاملا همون سبک آشنای مارکز هست... (گابریل گارسیا مارکز جزو نویسندگان مورد علاقه من هست)... نسبت به کارهای قدیمی ترش تفاوتی که خیلی مشهود بود این بود که سبک رئالیسم جادویی مارکز خیلی بیشتر به سمت رئالیسم پیش رفته... داستان کلی در مورد تفاوت بین عشق و ارتباط جنسی هست... دیدگاهی که مارکز در مورد مسائل جنسی داره دیدگاه متفاوتی نسبت به نویسندگان اروپایی و آمریکای شمالی هست و در دو تا کتاب دیگه ای که من ازش خوندم (صد سال تنهایی و پاییز پدرسالار) همین دیدگاه تکرار شده... داستان عبارات و کلمه هایی داره که متناسب با عرف نیستن... برای من جای تعجب داره که چطور این کتاب حتی با سانسور قسمتهایی ازش چاپ شده... در کل من کتاب رو کار خیلی قوی نمی دونم ولی کار نسبتا خوبی هست... کتابهای متنوعی از نویسنده های مختلف در مورد تحلیل اجتماعی و روانشناختی روسپی ها خوندم و به نظر من در این مقوله این کتاب، کتاب نسبتا خوبی هست.

Muhammad Shakhawat Hossain

So far, it is the worst book I have read this year. The story itself starts very disgustingly. A journalist, on his 90th birthday, wants to have sex with a virgin. He calls the local madam, Rosa Cabarcas and she arranges a 15 year old girl for him. The journalist, in his 90 long years, never found love. All he wants is just to please himself physically and to test his 'performance' at this age. When the journalist meets the arranged girl, he discovered he fell in love for the first time in his life. The plot is somewhat eccentric and ambitious but the execution is not up to the mark. The whole plot is destroyed due to pretension. The repetitive description of the girl's naked body is also very disturbing. One has to be the old journalist of the novel while reading for enjoying the book. I tried really hard, but couldn't see myself in his place. For books like this, I think I am going to make another bookshelf. And I shall name it 'Total waste of time'.

Sarit

Garcia Marquez is getting tired. He dashed off this half-hearted little story and no publisher or faithful reader could resist the draw of his name. But if it had been someone's first work, it never would have been published.

Dayes Mohammed

بعض الكتب تجبرك على كتابة نص ٍ عوضا ً عن عرض ٍ أو نقد ٍ لها ، أن تعشق هذا أمر ٌ سهل ، و لكن أن يكون عشقك محور حياتك ، و هو الدافع الأبدي للعيش فوق المائة عام هذا أشبه بالمحال ، ما الأمر الغريب في العشق كي يعطينا قدرة ً على البكاء بحرقة ، و نحن بالقرب من الحمقى الذين نحب و ما لأمر الغريب فيه ليجعلنا نركض طوال الليل و دموعنا مطر ٌ يغرق الأزقة ، و ما الغريب فيه لنصاب بدوار ٍ قاتل ٍحينما نسمع اسم الحبيب !!و ما الذي يجعلنا نتصور أن المراهقة العارية أجمل حين تدير ظهرها إلينا متكورة ً بخوف ٍ على عذريتها !!ديلغادينا ، آخر الرسائل في الحقيقة أولها ،ما بعدها مصطنع و مستهلك لا يحمل حقيقة شعورنا البدائي ، على العكس كلما ازدادت الرسائل كلما ازداد العبء على كاتبها ، لأن الكاتب يكتب عن شعوره حيال نفسه لا عن المرسل إليه ، ديلغادينا ، أين تذهب براءة الطفولة حينما نراها من منظار التسعين و أين هي الجمالية في صور ٍ نرسمها على واقع الشوق المعذّب ؟ديلغادينا ،حاولت أن أفهم شعورك حيال العجوز ، من خلال ما قرأته في عيون العاهرات التي كنت أراهن ّ في ليل البيكاديللي ، و لم أفهم حاولت أن أراه حتى في عيون الصبايا اللواتي يدخلن الغرف ليخرجن بعد ساعة ٍ متعرقات ، يغسلن آخر الأحلام .ديلغادينا "نحن وحيدان في هذا العالم يا طفلتي""الجنس هو العزاء الذي يلجأ إليه المرء حينما لا يحصل على الحب"لذلك فإنني أكتفي بتقبيل كل بقعة ٍ من جسدك ليس لأن شيطاني خارج ٌ عن العمل ، بل لأنني أكتفي بهذا الأمر كتعبير أخرق عن الحب ، حتى و إن قالت إحدى عاهراتي الحبيبات قولا ً ً لشيخك ِ التسعيني : "إياك أن تموت قبل أن تجرب روعة المضاجعة عن حب" لذلك فإنني بدونك : "أمضيت أسبوعا ً دون أن أخلع أفرهول الميكانيكي ، في الليل و النهار و دون أن أستحم ، و دون أن أحلق ذقني ، و دون أن أنظف أسناني ، لأن الحب علمني في وقت ٍ متأخر ٍ جداً أن المرء يتهندم من أجل أحد ، يلبس و يتعطر من أجل أحد ، و أنا لم يكن لديّ قط من أفعل ذلك لأجله "بعد سنوات ٍ من القراءة ، أكاد أجزم أن الرجل التسعيني ، رأى في الحب ضرورة ً كي تخلصه من عناء التفكير بالموت و هو على مشارفه ، كيف لا و هو يفكر بتسعين سنة ٍ أخرى ، هذه الرواية ليست رواية ً عن الحب أو الجنس ، بل أظنها سيرة ً متخيلة ً لماركيز ، كانت إحدى خططه للهروب من الشيخوخة و العزلة التي تتسبب بها الشيخوخة ، الحب إحدى الوسائل التي نتحاشى فيها التفكير بالعمر ، هو لا يعير أدنى قيمة ٍ للعمر لذا يلجأ إليه الإنسان ليتخلى عن غطرسة الحياة في وجهه "آه ٍ لحالي ، إذا كان حبا ً ، فكم هو معذّب" **جياكومو ليوباودي - شاعر إيطالي مابين "" جزء من الرواية ذاتها .

Stela

Mi-am spus inițial că faptul că am citit Povestea tîrfelor mele triste aproape imediat după Casa frumoaselor adormite e un caz clasic de serendipitate. Acum mă gîndec că poate nu a fost o coincidență chiar aşa de fericită. Cu textul nipon atît de proaspăt în minte mi-a fost cu neputință să nu trec povestea lui Marquez printr-o avalanşă de interpretări interogative : parodie ? dialog intertextual ? continuare ? reinterpretare argentiniană a simbolurilor japoneze ?Din păcate, am terminat lectura cu senzația că e din toate cîte puțin dar într-un mod superficial şi ezitant, ca şi cum tocul a devenit prea greu pentru mîna prea obosită să păstreze fermitatea scriiturii. Ca şi Kawabata, Marquez dezvoltă tema morții şi a dorinței umane de a o învinge în căutarea fîntînii tinereții veşnice. Si aici eroul are epifania identității dintre Hypnos si Thanatos. Doar că batrînul de 90 de ani descoperă cu uimire că poți să-ți iubeşti moartea chiar dacă n-o poti ocoli şi că această iubire îți poate oferi singura şansă la nemurire – potențialul creator. Cei o sută de ani de singurătate se răscumpără astfel, ba chiar devin reversibili, cărare de aur ducînd înapoi spre Kansas:Aveam, în sfârsit, parte de viață reală, cu inima la adăpost si condamnat să mor de dragoste adevărată în agonia fericită a oricărei zile după ce aveam să împlinesc o sută de ani.Frumos, cum spuneam, dar nu întru totul convingător şi departe atît de delicatetea prozei lui Kawabata cît şi de magia propriei scriituri, cu toate că ici şi colo mîna redevine fermă, iar tonul mesemerizator marquezian ne mîngîie încă o dată auzul cu poveştile sale atît de amuzant absurde şi atît de fermecător ironice :Ultimul ei tip, un negru zâmbitor din Camagiley, căruia îi ziceau Iona Ocnaşul, fusese un trompetist dintre cei mai de vază la Havana, până şi-a pierdut zâmbetul complet într-o catastrofă de tren.

Joyzi

This book reminds me so much of Pretty Woman. A man and a prostitute falling in love with one another. However in this one the male protagonist was over ninety years old and the female protagonist was about fifteen years old. The book was an easy read, I read it in one sitting. Good somewhat philosophical and it talks about life, aging, love and death. Nevertheless I was a bit disturbed with the age difference of the main characters so I'll just gave this one three stars. Extra: This book was banned in Iran because a group of conservatives thought the book was promoting prostitution.

Ian Paganus

ImmortifiedI’ve wondered for a long time how to talk to you about this. How to explain myself, if such a thing is necessary or possible. Should I even bother? Would you understand? Will you be able to see things from my point of view? Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?Ironically, perhaps, if you believe in God, the Holy Spirit, then you might be more likely to understand me and therefore to forgive.My desire is not so much that you understand what I have done. It’s more important that you understand who or what I am. Therein lies the path to forgiveness. It depends on understanding me, my nature, not what I do.Perhaps, you have already reached the point where you don’t want to understand or listen to me? Anyway, I will begin my explanation now.I have had to live with myself for 91 years. During almost every day that I can remember, I have asked myself the same questions: who am I? What am I? Perhaps you have asked yourself the same things?Every day, I have looked at my body, I have scrutinized my mind, and I have thought that this is not the real me. I am something different.The best way to explain this is to say, in the simplest way possible, that I am my soul. I am not my body, I am not my mind, I am my soul. I am separate from them.Before this body and this mind, I resided in other bodies and minds. I have no way of telling how many or for how long. These things are not revealed to our souls. However, I feel confident that there have been many. Speaking to my friends and comparing pasts, I have resolved that I, my soul, am at least 5,394 years old. Sometimes I wonder why I am not older.I’ve transitioned 15 times that I know of. It fascinates me whether the body or the mind will succumb first, but usually the time between deaths is not long. It doesn't really matter. The important thing is to be close to another carrier, so that I can embark on the next stage of my journey.With all due modesty, I’ve inhabited some pretty special humans, some merely from the point of view of their minds, some from the point of view of their bodies.Still, it’s difficult for a soul to relate to a mind or a body.Bodies, in particular, seem to be driven by DNA. They want to fuck all the time. When they’re not fucking, they’re thinking about fucking. Well, in that case, their minds are thinking about fucking. At least, that’s a pretty fair description of the males I’ve inhabited. The females aren’t as bad, but, to be honest, they’re not that much better. Certainly they’re not as virtuous as they would have you believe.I’m 90, almost 91 now, in body years. Ironically, Delgadina is only fourteen. I say ironically, because in soul years, she is older than me, not by much, she’s 5,678 years old. She’s had almost four extra earth experiences than I have. Nineteen versus fifteen mightn’t sound like much, but you’d be surprised.The strange thing is that our soul age counts for nothing on earth. No matter how religious somebody might be, they still judge us by our body age, not the age of our mind or our soul.Even though Delgadina is technically an adult at age fourteen, people still think of her as a child. Little do they know, her mind is superior to mine. Just because she speaks less than I do, doesn’t mean that she is dumber. In our most recent life before this one, she topped our college in her last year. Sometimes, for her own benefit, I wish she would speak out more in this life, so people appreciated her mind, not just her body. Perhaps, that will come with time. I'm already teaching her to read, write and paint.We almost didn’t meet in this life. In the last, we had actually been married, but only in our seventies. She had enjoyed a long marriage. I had remained faithful, well, as best I could after 622 lovers. So many of them had been whores, but they were still women, all of them. Delgadina was determined to find out what it had been like to be one of my whores. She knew me well enough, after four earth relationships, to know that the best way to get my undivided attention was to manifest herself as a fourteen year old girl.I didn’t recognise her at first. She was promised to me. Well, her virginity was. Several times, we went through a ritual whereby I was supposed to deflower her. Each time, I slept next to her, and did nothing but caress her or kiss each centimeter of her body. It was as if my 90 year old body wasn’t up to the task, whatever the capacity of my mind, let alone my soul. I even began to question myself, which was a first for me.People judge me as if I have done something wrong. Sometimes I wonder if they imagine that I have done only what they would like to have done, or in Delgadina’s position, might have wanted me to do to them.I wonder whether these people know what it means to be a soul. To be condemned to live forever (although is it really such a condemnation?). To wander from body to body in search of another soul. To, at last, find a soul to whom you can relate, let alone, in my case, one who coincidentally I have loved before.These are things that mean something to you in eternity. True love. Not whether one of you is 90 or 14. These are just numbers. Notches. Hands that move in a circular fashion around the watch face of time. They mean nothing to someone, to two lovers, like us, whose soul lives have already lasted almost six millennia and show no signs of giving up.When I think of Delgadina, I don’t think of her legs, her breasts, her lips, even her mind, these things that somehow I have touched or kissed. Instead, I think of her soul. Meanwhile, she smiles when she thinks of how much more experience of life she has had than me. If only I could die now and start another life ahead of her. But, vain man that I am, I have resolved that, in this life at least, I want to see out a century. It comforts me that, when I lie awake in bed, sometimes I can derive some pleasure from observing her naked, legs apart, breasts spread across her chest, dreaming of me, her 90 year old stallion.Playboy Seeks Sex ToyThe more I read Marquez' post-Nobel Prize works, the more I'm convinced that his modus operandi is to invent characters and situations that will outrage many, if not most, readers.Here, a sexually-active nonagenarian is offered a fledgling 14 year old virgin whore to celebrate his birthday.Whether or not he deflowers the girl, whether or not he might only have watched the girl sleeping, he would be condemned by the reader. Society objects not just to the act, but to both the desire and the intention.The problem is that Marquez employs beautiful language in his enterprise.In fact, I've always suspected that, as I suspect of Nabokov, he writes a straightforward tale of love and sex, then, only then, twists or perverts it, by adding an element of the forbidden, the taboo, the immoral, the illegal.Without the perversion, it would be a work of beauty. What happens when he tweaks the ages of the participants? Would a story of love and sex involving a 40 year old male and a 30 year old female be acceptable? Well, what happens when the age of the male is dialled up to 90 and the girl down to 14?Something in our minds registers, this should not be happening, something is wrong.Marquez might not explicitly ask, why is it wrong. He might not be expressly challenging morality. It exists, whether we like it or not.However, I think he is asking us whether, as a work of art, it is any less beautiful because it is transgressive.Part of what he is doing is questioning the aesthetic nature of transgression.The novel is inspired by Kawabata's "House of the Sleeping Beauties", which I haven't read yet.In the epigraph from that book, old Eguchi is warned by the madam not to do anything in bad taste. The specific caveat is not to "put his finger into the mouth of the sleeping girl".Different things are forbidden at different times and in different cultures.The act of writing the novel doesn't mean that Marquez advocates child abuse in real life. He just wants to ask these questions and explore these issues within the realm of art. Again, like Nabokov, he wants to treat art and literature as a playground. He wants to explore not just desire and intention, but the imagination as well.By doing so, he asks of the reader that we suspend moral judgment and engage pure aesthetic judgment. Not all of us will want to, not all of us will be able to.In this way, he doesn't just confront us with his subject matter, he confronts us with our own temperaments. He utilises the response of the reader as part of his creative enterprise. His works are all the greater, because they involve and implicate us.VERSE:Angels Surround the Bed of DelgadinaLet us share a bed.You can sleep if you need to.I'm content to watch.BreathlessI kissed your body.I inhaled your wild fragrance.It made me breathless.Dear GirlI'll write words for you."We are alone in the world."I'll teach you to read.The Abominable No-ManIt does more damageFor authors to write in chainsThan to write freely.SOUNDTRACK:Memories of My Melancholy Whores (Title Sequence)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMh3mT...Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - "Breathless"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TI8xP...

Ahmed

العظيم : ماركيزفى عمل انسانى معقد (رغم صغر حجمه) يرصد حال رجل فى التسعين بعد حياة زاخرة بالعمل والمتعه عرف مئات النساء وعمل لعقود طويلهيرصد حاله عندما بلغ التسعينمن قرأ (الحب فى زمن الكوليرا) ويذكر فلورنتينو اريثا ومغامراته سيلاحظ شبه ببطل هذا العملفى المجمل روايه لن تأخذ من وقتك ساعه وستترك انطباع جيد هذا لا ينفى كونها اقل اعمل ماركيز مما قرات له

Shaun

The truth is, I'm getting old, I said. We already are old, she said with a sigh. What happens is that you don't feel it on the inside, but from the outside everybody can see it. page 98This is just one of many great insights found within Memories of My Melancholy Whores.While the premise of this book, which revolves around a ninety-year-old bachelor who longs to celebrate his birthday with a virgin (a sleeping girl of 14 who becomes the source of an unconsummated love), invokes a certain amount of disgust for obvious reasons, if you are able to get beyond the political incorrectness and depravity of what's being suggested on the surface, you will find a masterfully written story about life, loving, living, and aging.Marquez's story is honest, funny, insightful, sensual, and occasionally disconcerting, even repugnant. Yet morally challenged or not, his characters are perfect in their imperfections and so completely human as to make us all a little uncomfortable with our humanity. I'll end with another excerpt that illustrates some of the literary excellence found in abundance throughout the book:"I was ignorant of the arts of seduction and had always chosen my brides for a night at random, more for their price than their charms, and we made love without love, half dressed most of the time and always in the dark so we could imagine ourselves as better than we were. That night I discovered the improbable pleasure of contemplating the body of a sleeping woman without the urgencies of desire or the obstacles of modesty." page 29

Carmo Santos

"No ano dos meus noventa anos quis oferecer a mim mesmo uma noite de amor louco com uma adolescente virgem."A julgar pelo titulo e pelo primeiro parágrafo, poder-se-ia pensar que este seria um livro todo malandreco com direito a risota. Puro engano, é exatamente o oposto. O característico bom humor de García Márques está presente em doses generosas, mas não é um humor virado para a piada fácil, é antes um humor fruto de muito conhecimento, de quem já viveu muito e já aprendeu a rir de si mesmo. Mais uma vez GGM volta ao tema da velhice e às maleitas da idade, à solidão e ao amor. Desta vez um amor puro e inocente, uma paixão platónica capaz de reavivar a vontade de ser feliz e fazer esquecer os setenta e cinco anos de diferença entre ambos.Parece estranho? Talvez, mas a já habitual mestria do autor, torna esta história de uma delicadeza e ternura inesperadas. Um livro para ler até ao fim resistindo à tentação de tecer juízos de valor precipitados." O sexo é o consolo que a gente tem quando o amor não nos alcança."

Yzobelle

This is quite an easy read -- something that can be finished while having a haircut and an ice cream sundae after. I couldn't say much about the grandeur of this book. It's not much. But it did give me quite a number of realizations. Some are profound. Some are simply amusing. One thing that struck me is the commonality I have, at 32, with a 90-year-old man. Marquez, speaking of himself: "I discovered that my obsession for having each thing in the right place, each subject at the right time, each word in the right style, was not the well-deserved reward of an ordered mind but just the opposite: a complete system of pretense invented by me to hide the disorder of my nature. ...."Another thing that this book made me believe is that Spanish men are entertaining storytellers and naturally romantic.Oh btw, is it just this book edition that doesn't enclose dialogs in quotation marks? The absence of that slows down the reading pace and makes it a little annoying.

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