Reading Marquez, it is impossible not to appreciate the breadth of this author's scope, impeccable style and deep understanding of the processes, but also, we must admit, the writer, like the dementor, is perfectly able to suck the joy out of the reader.
In my practice, Gabriel Garcia Makez is the first of the emotionally killed authors. For me, in general, it is a mystery how it was possible to write in such a state, because such movements are not suitable for someone who has long given up on everything, from whom there is some kind of cemetery cold and who does not have any motive at all.
"One Hundred years of Solitude" is the top of the writer's creation, although I have never liked this work. And "No one writes to the Colonel", and "The Autumn of the Patriarch", and even "Love during the plague" seemed to me more meaningful, at least, those topics that are more interested in me specifically.
This work reminds me of Castaneda's readings, where, although some final meaning is promised, the main thing is not in it at all, but in classifying you yourself to some kind of special person who touched secret knowledge. And here it is not this very knowledge that is important at all, but only the promise of it. The result is not so interesting, the process itself attracts much more. You give maneuvers.
I was ready to read, although the knowledge of proper names, which are also often duplicated here, as I understood, does not have a decisive meaning. From this point of view, it was much more difficult for me the first time "Wuthering Heights" was given, because I was so entangled in the network of all sorts of relatives there that I had to start reading again.
It was enough to somehow feel the Marquez spirit and not necessarily memorize this family tree of the Buendia families. And the fact that even this very eternity does not matter on the body of eternity is clear without any Marquez.
As I understood, degeneration somehow affects a person at any stage and the fact that this world is short-term and does not matter at all in the category of time, this is understandable and so, it is enough to feel the imperfection of every fragment or every thought that exists in this world.
After that, it does not matter at all whether the book is interesting in terms of authenticity and realism or it is just a confession of something incredibly old and not particularly decent.
We all die alone, but Marquez himself did not succeed, because he continues to be read. And this is all, despite all these pig tails and a whole set of duty abominations in the presence of an almost perfect text.
The most terrifying thing, as I understood it, is the fact that according to Marquez, the Buendia family is absolutely normal, and we, looking at all this, should draw conclusions about some more global degeneration. Maybe this is the world, if God has endowed such eyes.
This novel is one of the most popular works in the direction of magical realism. To be honest, I thought that I would either never read anything from the author, or I would read it, but somewhere in about a thousand light years (well, never, in general). And all because of some fear of getting acquainted with the work of some authors, and Marquez was on this small list.
But now I want to read this writer's works, if not all, then at least most of them! Because this is some kind of magic: the literary style, the language of the narrative, the characters, the thoughts that immerse you in thought.
He is beautiful, charming, magical-there are definitely not enough epithets. I'm unlikely to be able to read the novel in the original, but it's easy to give the translator credit. Real art.
1452.843 SRY