One Hundred Years of Solitude

n  "Then he made one last effort to search in his heart for the place where his affection had rotted away, and he could not find it."n
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

This dazzling tale of the Buendía family spans generations. It is a rich account of people carving out a life for themselves in Macondo, a town founded by the patriarch, José Arcadio Buendía.

"At that time Macondo was a village of twenty adobe houses, built on the bank of a river of clear water that ran along a bed of polished stones, which were white and enormous, like prehistoric eggs. The world was so recent that many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point."

José Arcadio Buendía is a corker! He is so hell-bent on making a wondrous discovery that he fritters away the family money on inventions purchased from a wandering troop of gypsies who miraculously show up in Macondo on occasion. Thankfully, his levelheaded wife (and first cousin), Úrsula Iguarán, works herself to the bone to make sure the family won’t starve to death. During this fantastical journey, wars were fought, fortunes won and lost, and hearts wholly decimated, leaving the jilted lovers dead in a flower bed. It must be said that the Buendia family’s foolish choices are an endless source of drama and entertainment.

"Look at the mess we've got ourselves into," Colonel Aureliano Buendia said at that time, "just because we invited a gringo to eat some bananas."

I’ve read Márquez before and loved his work, but this was a whole other animal! He expertly blurs the line between magic and realism so smoothly that it feels as if he was creating cinematic electricity! The horror is tempered by a big dose of whimsy that had me laughing through my tears. The writing is agonizingly beautiful, and each character exquisitely drawn.

In a lifetime of reading, there are only a few extraordinary novels that touch the very fabric of a person’s being—For me, One Hundred Years of Solitude is one of those. I was transported into Márquez’s dreamlike creation, and for the past few days had forgotten the real world and lived entirely in his. My only regret is that it all had to come to an end.

So, if you are looking for an epic novel to steal your breath away, look no further!

Thank you, Kevin Ansbro. Your outstanding review pointed the way to this magnificent read!

i was a kid watching an episode of thundercats in which a few of the cats were trapped in some kind of superbubble thing and it hit me that, being cartoons, the characters could just be erased and redrawn outside the bubble or could just fly away or tunnel their way out. or teleport. or just do whatever they wanted. i mean, they were line and color in a world of line and color. now this applies to any work of fiction but it just felt different with a lowest-common-denominator cartoon. adherence to reality (reality as defined within the world of the cartoon) wasn’t a top priority. this ended my cartoon watching days. was it a lack of, or too much, imagination? dunno.

i had a similar experience with One Hundred Years of Solitude. gypsies bring items to Macondo, a village hidden away from mass civilization by miles of swamp and mountain. these everyday items (magnets, ice, etc.) are interpreted as ‘magic’ by people who have never seen them and it forces the reader to reconfigure her perception of much of what she formerly found ordinary. amazing. and then the gypsies bring a magic carpet. a real one. one that works. and there is no distinction b/t magnets and the magic carpet. this, i guess, is magical realism. and i had a Thundercats moment in that i found the magic carpet to immediately render all that preceded it as irrelevant. are ice and magnets the same as magic carpets? what is the relation between magic and science? how can i trust and believe in a character who takes such pains to understand ice and magnets and who, using the most primitive scientific means, works day and night to discover that the earth is round -- but then blindly accepts that carpets can fly? or that people can instantaneously increase their body weight sevenfold by pure will? or that human blood can twist and turn through streets to find a specific person? fuck the characters, how can i trust the writer if the world is totally undefined? if people can refuse to die (and it’s not explained who or how or why) where are the stakes? how can i care about any situation if I can't trust Garcia Marquez not to simply make the persons involved sprout wings and fly away?

so i’m at page 200. and i’m gonna push on. but it’s tough. do i care when someone dies if death isn’t permanent? how do i give a fuk about characters who have seen death reversed but don’t freak the fuck out (which is inconsistent with what does make them freak the fuck out) and who also continue to cry when someone dies? yeah, there are some gems along the way, but i think had Solitude been structured as a large collection of interconnected short stories (kinda like a magical realism Winesberg, Ohio?) it would've worked much better.

should the book be read as fairy-tale? myth? allegory? no, i’d label anyone a fraud who tried to explain away this 500 page book as mere allegory. i don’t believe Garcia Marquez has as fertile an imagination as Borges or Cervantes or Mutis –- three chaps who could pull something like this off on storytelling power alone; but three chaps who, though they may dabble in this stuff, clearly define the world their characters inhabit.

this is one of the most beloved books of all time and i’m not so arrogant (damn close) to discount the word of all these people (although I do have gothboy, DFJ, and Borges on my side--a strong argument for or against anything), and not so blind to see the joy this brings to so many people. but i don’t get it. and i aggressively recommend The Adventures and Misadventures of Maqroll to any and all who find Solitude to be the end all and be all.

n  n   

...races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.

n  n Time is unhinged in this story. Is it even a story or just an examination of what narcotics can do when combined with existing creativity? Inasmuch as The Atlantic describes this book—as stated by Latin American critic Angel Rama—as a cosmopolitan story that could correct the path of the modern novel, I still believe drugs were involved. At the very least, powerful hallucinogens.



This book covers Latin American history from pre-colonial to pre-modern times. According to Ted-Ed, Marquez could have been influenced by his maternal grandparents, whereby his grandfather was a veteran of the Thousand Days War, and his grandmother's omnipresent superstition led to the story's foundation. Their house in Antarctica was where the author got the inspiration for Macondo.

But what is Macondo, really? When I started this book, I went into it aware that it's a masterpiece. Rushdie has called it "the greatest novel of any language in the last fifty years". It begins as a barreling hypnotic narrative. Many stories feel like a song. Intro, hook, chorus, bridge, crescendo, fade to black. There's a recognizable resonance in pacing and stylistic tropes. The introduction, the inciting incident, the adventure, the conflict, the heroes failing, the darkest hour, then audiences bate their breaths for a season renewal. But this book eschews everything you think you know about narrative storytelling. To the point where I was certain it was it's own style. But no, it's just a different style of narration. So different it may be the godfather of magical realism.

In the first line, Aureliano faces a firing squad. Colonel Aureliano Buendia is the first Aureliano in this story (there are several). Jose Arcadio Buendia, the very first Buendia, discovers and settles in Macondo after a failed expedition to find the ocean. Then follows a tale of woe, sorrow, joy, drama, romance, murder, war. Everything possible and improbable under the sun. From suitors precipitated by yellow butterflies to incest babies born with pig tails.

It sometimes felt like an ode to adventure. The worship of a willingness to find parts unknown. n  

That conversation, the biting rancor that he felt against his father, and the imminent possibility of wild love inspired a serene courage in him.

n

Anything could inspire love, rebellion, anger. Anything. This is considered the most seminal imagination novel. The book felt like it could describe everything. Love is a feeling that was more relaxing and deep than the happiness, wild but momentary....
Loneliness is After many years of death the yearning for the living was so intense, the need for company so pressing, so terrifying the nearness of that other death which exists within death, that Prudencio Aguilar had ended up loving his worst enemy.

This book is also expansive and thematic. It covers family drama with the same gravitas, or lack thereof, as war. It doesn't give you room to breathe. When Jose Arcadio of the Big Dick returns from his life as a sailor, he recounts his experience, his exhilaration at the open seas just as easily as he does the casual cannibalism they engaged in to survive. At one point, when Macondo is absorbed into a war between Liberals and fascists conservatives, the people have to decide what's more important-their liberties or forced peace. The war goes on for so long that eventually, the lines blur, and the war is only perpetuated for power grabbing. It evoked memories of how Kenyan freedom fighters were erased from the annals of history and the power taken by tyrants who coopted their movement and hoarded power. Actions of which we're still seeing repercussions. Even MCU action movies give you audience applause breaks. Marquez has no interest in letting you absorb the impact of finding out a Jose Arcadio is fucking his auntie.

The characters were the best part of the first half. Ursula, the matriarch of the Buendia family, is a force to be reckoned with. At first she starts out a doormat to Jose Arcadio the First's whims. Even blithely accepting his attempts to alchemize her inheritance into gold. At the time, all he managed to do was turn it into a black blob. That she didn't let him catch hands is baffling but the story continues. And later, we come to appreciate her innate strength. She's the best female character in this book. Probably even the best character.

There is no scarcity of characters and caricatures. From self-martyrising women who chronically reject good men only to sleep with their relatives, to self-righteous Queens of Sheba wannabes who had a habit of using inane euphemisms to the point of incoherence. Once, Amaranta told Fernanda

n  "I was saying," she told her, "that you're one of those people who mix up their ass and their ashes."n

There is a character so ignorantly beautiful she'd be the lead in all the One Direction songs. There is an Aureliano borne out of wedlock who is raised like a feral beast and ostracised from society until he learns to love the right people in the wrong way. There is a rescued teenager who eats whitewall and dirt when encumbered by fits of hysteria or anxiety.

There is a coin-shaped man who enters an alarming number of eating competitions and descendants who are obsessed with a knowledge that was ultimately meaningless, like all tragedies and success stories come to be.

This story revolves around an indecipherable manuscript whose unraveling is implied to be this twisted yarn of a tale. A cyclic saga that shows you that life is potentially what you make of it until other people jeopardize or enrich it. This story felt like the never-ending train, a fever dream. And at the book's second half, it felt like a long train ride to nowhere.

Find more of my work n  here.n

More like A Hundred Years of Torture. I read this partly in a misguided attempt to expand my literary horizons and partly because my uncle was a big fan of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Then again, he also used to re-read Ulysses for fun, which just goes to show that you should never take book advice from someone whose IQ is more than 30 points higher than your own.

I have patience for a lot of excesses, like verbiage and chocolate, but not for 5000 pages featuring three generations of people with the same names. I finally tore out the family tree at the beginning of the book and used it as a bookmark! To be fair, the book isn’t actually 5000 pages, but also to be fair, the endlessly interwoven stories of bizarre exploits and fantastical phenomena make it seem like it is. The whole time I read it I thought, “This must be what it’s like to be stoned.” Well, actually most of the time I was just trying to keep the characters straight. The rest of the time I was wondering if I was the victim of odorless paint fumes. However, I think I was simply the victim of Marquez’s brand of magical realism, which I can take in short stories but find a bit much to swallow in a long novel. Again, to be fair, this novel is lauded and loved by many, and I can sort of see why. A shimmering panoramic of a village’s history would appeal to those who enjoy tragicomedy laced heavily with fantasy. It’s just way too heavily laced for me.

Español - English

Este es mi mas gran libro favorito de todos los tiempos.

Y no es para menos.

Por este libro pasan acontecimientos narrados en otros libros del mismo escritor, como La triste historia de Cándida Eréndida y su abuela desalmada, Isabel viendo llover en Macondo y Los funerales de la Mama grande.

Narra la historia de siete generaciones de la familia Buendía desde sus inicios y fundación en el pueblo Macondo.

José Arcadio Buendía y Ursula Iguarán son dos primos que se casan, pero que tienen el temor por el mito que decía que sus hijos podrían nacer con colas de cerdo. Al final tienen tres hijos: José Arcadio, Aureliano y Amaranta. Nombres que se repetirán en las siete generaciones, lo que lo hace muy confuso, pero interesante.

En esta familia todos los integrantes parecen estar destinados a la soledad.

---

This is my biggest favorite book of all time.

And is not for less.

Through this book happen events narrated in other books of the same writer, like the Sad story of Candida Eréndida and its soulless grandmother, Isabel seeing raining in Macondo and The funerals of the great Mama.

It narrates the history of seven generations of the family Buendía from its beginnings and foundation in the town Macondo.

Jose Arcadio Buendía and Ursula Iguarán are two cousins who marry, but who have the fear of the myth that said that their children could be born with pig tails. In the end they have three children: Jose Arcadio, Aureliano and Amaranta. Names that will be repeated in the seven generations, which makes it very confusing, but interesting.

In this family all members seem to be destined for solitude.

لا أدري لم كان شبح ثلاثية غرناطة يلوح في الأفق منذ الصفحة العاشرة ..ولكن بشكل أسوء تلك المرة !! ياربي
.:D نفس الأشخاص والمراجعات والتقييمات والانبهارات ..؟ العيب منني إذا يا جماعة .؟
لا تنافقوني ..فقط قولوا لي العيب مني بالفعل ..

أم أن الأمر كما قال لي شخص لا أذكر اسمه اثناء مناقشة كتاب ثلاثية غرناطة ..((لديك مشكلة في تذوق الأدب :) )) وبسمايل نعم . :D
ولم تصر تلك المشكلة علي زيارتي في الأعمال العظيمة الفخمة الحائزة علي كل جوائز الأدب والأكثر مبيعا في التاريخ و إلخ ..إلخ ..لا أعرف ..

حسنا .. لقد إختصرت 8 صفحات كتبتها في تلك النقاط العشر .لنبدأ إذا :
بسم الله ..
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1_
الزمن في الرواية ؟ ..رأيته في غاية التفكك ..وكأن العمر ليس في اعتبار الكاتب أصلا ..ولا الفترات الزمنية التي هي خط سير الأحداث ..لا لم تكن في الحسبان أصلا ..
تارة يلمح لعمر أحد الشخصيات ..وتارة ينسي الموضوع ويتركك أنت لتحدد ..هل كبر بعد أم لا ..هل كل صفحة مرت تعني سنة ! لا أدري ..أطلق خيالك ..أنت في ماكوندو يا صديقي :”D
في البداية توقعت أن في تلك الرواية لا يموت أحد ..ثم بالمرور علي الصفحات ..يتخلص منهم الكاتب بكل سهولة !! ولأسباب ساذجة جدا ..وفي النهاية يموتون جميعهم ؟؟! :”D


2_
رصد العواطف والاختلاجات النفسية والبناء المتسلسل للشخصيات !
أين .؟ أين ؟ أين ؟
العواطف لم يكن لها وجود ..الاختلاجات النفسية كان يتم ذبحها بين السطور بلا رحمة ..الشخصيات ..كان عددها مباالغ به فمن الطبيعي أن لا تؤثر بك ولا شخصية ..وتشعر أن جميعهم بلا هوية وشخصيات هامشية ..فلو اجتمع كل الكتاب لبناء عمل بهذا العدد من الشخوص ..كانو سيجدوا صعوبة ضخمة في رسم ملامح لهم ..
التداعيات النفسية الفقيرة الصماء ؟ أين ما تشير اليه تعابير الوجه ؟
أين الصمت المتكلم ؟ أين لغة العيون ! .. أين روحك في العمل يا سيد ماركيز ؟

3_
لازمني شعور منذ منتصف الرواية بأن كل شيء يجول بخاطر الكاتب كان يضمه للعمل ..أي خيال وأي شخصية اوأي مكان , وأي مهنة .. سواء كان شيء جيد أو سيء أو ذا معني أو بدون ..كل شيء لم يتردد في اضافته .. (مجرد شعور)

4_
الحبكة الروائية ..االتسلسل المنطقي للأحداث !
لم أجد برعم واحد يتطور نموه بشيء منطقي . ! وهل لانها ماكوندو فلا يوجد هنا منطق ولنطلق العنان للخيال لينسج لنا الحدث ..؟
لنقفز في الأحداث بجنون ..لنجعلك تتزوج وتنجب وتمت زوجتك بنفس الصفحة !!
لنجعلك قائدا ومديرا وقديرا وعبقريا ومخترعا ومهووسا ومجنون ومربوط بجذع شجرة الكستناء في نفس الصفحة !!!
هل جننا أم ماذا :D ?

5_

هل يكفي الخيال ليغدو العمل رائع ومدهش و بلا بلا بلا ؟ ..اعترف بالفعل أن خيالك جامح !؟ ولكن أنت لم تستطع ترويض تلك المخيلة ..لذلك خرج العمل مهترء في نظري ..مسكين تطوحه الأقدار وتتلاعب به الشخصيات بفوضي وجنون وهزيان .. لم أعاني الأمرين لأتمم عمل ؟؟ لم ؟؟

6_
هناك أشياء كثيرة حدثت بلا تفسير ؟ وأكملت للنهاية علي أمل أن أجد تفسيرا لما حدث ؟ ..
أما بعد ؟ -
سيد ماركيز ؟؟ -
بربك ؟ هل نسيت ما كتبت في النصف الأول أم ماذا :D ?
مما عمق لدي الشعور الذي لازمني وما أوردته في النقطة الثالثة :)

7_
ما الغرض النبيل من وراء هذا العمل ؟!
ما القيمة التي أراد غرسها السيد ماركيز في تلك الأعوام المئة ؟ ماذا غير في شخصي وأي انطباع وصلني عنه –غير معرفة أنه يهيم عشقا في اسم خوسيه أركاديو—ماذا اذا ؟
بعض الأعمال تمتعني ولا تعطي قيمة حقيقة ولكنها تكون مشوقة مثلا
بعضها أتحمله لأتعلم شيئا .
ولكن هنا تحملتك ومللت واختنقت وأنهكتني ولم أحصل علي شيء !!
صدقوني العيب مني يا جماعة :D

8_
أخبروني أن تلك الراوية للخبير العتي الفذ فقط !! تلك الراوية ليست للطائشين أمثالي ! بل هي لمتذوقي الأدب ولذاته المقدسة .. والتي لم يودعها الله فيا علي ما يبدو .
ولذلك اذا كان طيشي هو من سيحدد حبي لعمل أصم ثقيل كهذا ..
فوالله لا أريد النضوج ولا الخبرة .. عذرا :) ..

9_
سؤالي لك عزيزي القاريء المقيم بالخماسية !
هل يمكنك إعادة قراءة هذا العمل مرة أخري ؟
-
-
حسنا لقد أجبت نفسك :) ..
هل يمكن أن تمر مثل تلك الأشياء علي عمل أدبي حقييقي .. أو علي كاتب حتي لو كان مبتدئا ؟؟

10_
توقعت أن المشكلة كلها في الترجمة ..لذلك قمت بتحميل نسخة إلكترونية من ترجمة السيد صالح العلماني . وقرأت أول ثلاثين صفحة ..وحينها لم أجد أن الاختلاف شاسع ..بل هو طفيف .. لذلك أصابني إحباط شديد جدا . لذلك المشكلة فيا أو فيه فقط ..او الترجمة العربية كلها ..
لذلك لنقل أن هذا العمل الأخير لي مع ماركيز .ومتيقن أن الخسارة لن تكن ضخمة (بالنسبة لي )

التقييم 1.5/5
النصف لراحة ضميري ولشكي بالترجمة فقط لا غير :D
____________________________

أخيرا :
ما الذي أدي لشهرة الكتاب بهذا الشكل ؟؟
هل كان للإعلام والتضخيم الإعلامي دور في ذلك ؟.
هل لل748475 خوسيه دور في ذلك ؟ :”D
هل قامت روح أوريليانو خوسيه أركاديو بوينديا توموندو هوكوندو توموندو بروندو وهددت القائمين علي الجوائز ؟ :D
حقا لا أعرف .. !
شكرا للصديقات رغد وشهد وإيلي وRogious
علي المشاركة القرائية .. وأعتذر منكم يا جماعة لو عكرت صفو الرواية ..
اسف بحق للموقع كله :’)

مرتي الأخيرة ال��ي اقرأ بها جراء تقييمات وجوائز ..
وأخيرا أقولها للجميع :
لقد تعلمت الدرس ..
هنيئا لكم بذوقكم ..وهنيئا لي بذوقي السيء :) ..

عذرا علي الإطالة ..
السلام عليكم.

My experience with Gabriel García Márquez so far ( Love in the Time of Cholera  and One Hundred Years of Solitude) have not been my favorite reading experiences. I feel that I did enjoy One Hundred Years of Solitude more, but in general I do not think his writing is for me. However, this does not discredit in anyway the writing and story – and I can very easily see why some people like his writing and why it is considered a classic.

I am sure people want an explanation of why I cannot give Márquez and his books a glowing review. Mainly, I just think the subject matter and style are not for me. While I usually enjoy magical realism, the way that he tells his various stories only gets me truly invested 1/5 of the time. The rest of the time I tend to be either bored and/or confused. Often, I find myself revisiting sections to make sure I understood what I had just experienced. With that being said, I did find myself more invested and interested in this book over Cholera – is that because it is a better book or because I knew better what I was getting into? I am not sure.

This book is worth a try if you want an interesting atmospheric, genre-specific historical fiction story (I hope that description makes sense . . . it made sense to me in my mind!). Also, it is worth trying if you are “collecting the classics”. But, if you are looking for an exciting or riveting read, I think chances are low that you will find it here.

"Upset by two nostalgias facing each other like two mirrors, he lost his marvellous sense of unreality and he ended up recommending to all of them that they leave Macondo, that they forget everything he had taught them about the world and the human heart, that they shit on Horace, and that wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end."