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Many years ago I was told this is one of those books you have to read before you die. I didn't get far on that occasion, but returned recently with steely determination to have a second bite at the cherry (or should that be banana), to see if it really lives up to all the hype. Well, I certainly don't think I would take this as one of my few novels after being dumped on a desert island, nor would I have a special place on my bookshelf, and take it out every now and then to scrape moss from the cover and shoo away any unwanted lizards from within the pages, but yes, I am glad to have read it.
My fifth Marquez book had what I would come to expect in terms of magical realism, but through all the death, violence, and weird happenings, I found many of the characters still attached to real life situations, dealing with love, loss and war that had real consequences. I also found it darker in places than what I expected, but then again, what did I expect?. This is Marquez after all, and he sprung many a surprise on me. Mostly all good.
The names though, Ggggrrrrr!!!!! where was my copy of the family tree?, I bloody well could have done with one. Took much wrangling with the old grey matter to figure out just who is who's son/daughter etc...but just about got there. The narrative is a magician's trick in which memory and prophecy, illusion and reality are mixed and often made to look the same. How does one describe the techniques and themes of the book without making it sound absurdly complicated, labored and almost impossible to read. Though concocted of quirks, ancient mysteries, family secrets and peculiar contradictions, it makes sense that it doesn't always make sense but that's what gives the pleasure in dozens of little and immediate ways. The book is a prognostic history, not of governments or of formal institutions of the sort which keeps public records, but of a people who, like the earliest descendants of mankind are best understood in terms of their relationship to a single family. In a sense, José and Ursula are the only two characters in the story, and all their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren are variations on their strengths and weaknesses. José, forever fascinated by the unknown, takes up project after project, invention after invention, in order among other things, to make gold, discover the ocean and photograph God. He eventually goes mad, smashes things, refuses to speak except in Latin and is tied to a giant chestnut tree in the middle of the family garden. A mixture of obsessive idealism and durable practicality informs the lives of the Buendía descendants. The males, all named Arcadio or Aureliano, go off to sea, lead revolutions, follow gypsies, fall disastrously in love with their sisters and aunts (except one who develops a passion for a 12-year-old-girl) but most of them add to the family's stature and wealth and all contribute generously to its number. The women are not overshadowed by the men, one feature I found most welcome, and the bizarre events including eating dirt through depression, burning hands in the wake of suicide, and sending an innocent beauty to heaven with the family sheets left for never a dull moment.
Márquez creates a continuum, a web of connections and relationships. However bizarre or grotesque some particulars may be, the larger effect is one of great gusto and good humor and, even more, of sanity and compassion. The author seems to be letting his people half-dream and half-remember their own story and what is best, he is wise enough not to offer excuses for the way they do it. No excuse is really necessary. For Macondo is no never-never land. Its inhabitants do suffer, grow old and die, but in their own way. It is a South American Genesis, an earthy piece of enchantment and so much more. It might have been just another phase in the incestuous life of Macondo, like the 32 revolutions or the insomnia plague, but enchantment and solitude cannot survive the gringos any more than they can avoid the 20th century.
The novel is packed full of political commentary on real-life events and there are several reminders of the tangible material world, we can say that the misogyny and violence don’t matter because none of it is real? depends how you interpret Márquez, the one thing I found to be the novels strongest assets were that he offers plenty of reflections on loneliness and the passing of time, the caustic commentary on the evils of war, and a warm appreciation for familial bonds. Through all the magical and strange tidings García Márquez has urgent things to say, about the world, about us.
It didn't all work for me structurally, and I still prefer the shorter writings of 'Innocent Erendira and Other Stories' as my favourite Márquez to date, but it's easy to see why for so many this remains such a cherished novel throughout the world.