Like other friends out there I've taken solace in my books... devouring three in the last week. Weirdly enough I picked up a book I've been have avoiding... mostly because the story line did not appeal to me.... a ninety year old man finding love with a fourteen year old girl. Lolita much?
As I've discovered with most books, they are never what they seem. Memories of My Melancholy Whores is actually a book not about pedophilia, but about growing old (and of course unrequited love in true Garcia Marquez fashion). In the story, the main character (the pervy old man) never actually sleeps with the young girl. Instead he spends his evenings with her to just sleep by her side--its through these encounters that he find himself to be fully alive.
Many people don't see the beauty in his writing... focusing too much on the story and not enough on the eloquence in which he tells it and the small pearls of wisdom built into them.
For sadness:
"The adolescents of my generation, greedy for life, forgot in body and soul about their hopes for the future until reality taught them that tomorrow was not what they had dreamed, and they discovered nostalgia."
and for sheer pleasure:
"I never had intimate friends, the few who came close are in New York. By which I mean they're dead, because that's where I suppose condemned souls go in order not to endure the truth of their past lives."
How are you doing these days?
oh andrea, i'm sorry that you're feeling dragged down by all the crazy sorrows of the world. it has been a weird year so far, 2011, full of heartache in big ways. in my own personal world, things are good, swirling around, kinda spacey and beautiful and weird. i looked at books about natural disasters at the bookstore today. that's the kind of day it was, it feels like a flood in my soul, but more like a Ponyo tsunami, not the real-life kind. you know? anyway, i love Marquez so much. i have trouble understanding when people can't get into his books. i read his stories like fables, they seem ancient to me, full of blood and passion, forests and cities and armies and mystics and magic. and i agree that the sheer beauty of his writing alone is enough to soar your spirit for a while. i haven't read this one though! Have you read the first book of his memoirs? I found it fascinating.
ReplyDeleteI think I know how you feel my dear. The world just seems to sad and crazy right now, too easy to obsess over it's destructive forces. I've been reading bee books for a while now, and suddenly they keep bringing tears to my eyes; what is the point of keeping bees, planting a garden, fertilizing winter crops, when the world is so fragile? That's how it's felt. What is the point of blogging, of spending time on the internet? Same as always: inspiration, a different way of thinking. You are inspiring my dear. I have held Marquez at an arm's length since high school, perhaps it's time to pull him closer, give him another chance. If such brilliant ladies recommend him, who am I to say no ;)
ReplyDeleteHope there's more light in your world. Till then i hope there's books...
yes i know that feeling so well these days.
ReplyDeleteahhh Marquez~i adore him, his words are so lyrical. 'One Hindred Years of Solitude'~i had this book for over ten years before i read it. once i started i couldnt put it down and when i finished it i was so upset. i wanted it to go on forever~i left it for a few weeks and started it again.
It's funny, I've been finding myself wanting to read more than usual lately too. I'm currently in the middle of The Maytrees by Annie Dillard for the book club that I'm in. Also, a bit of a melancholy read, but I'm really enjoying it.
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