Marquez is the David Lynch of fiction - these stories read like dreams and every one is shot through with death. Beautiful corpses, drowned travelers, silent diseases, wandering spirits, unexpected magic, elegant decay.

Once I realised that these were stories of atmosphere and were not, like Borges or Calvino, meant to give some kind of philosophical or intellectual satisfaction -- that rather, like dreams, they weave mysteries that aren't meant to be solved -- well, I liked them a bit better. Still, it's sometimes frustrating to have a situation set, the ropes of suspense rigged up tight... and then for there to be no release - just a vague feeling that there was a narrative there and that you've somehow been skirted around it. Like seeing a road accident far away, with the smoke billowing up towards the sky and the sound of ambulances and police cars, but the view is blocked, so that all you can do is stare at the dashboard of your own car and wonder. And remember perhaps that death is always there.

Marquez is more interested in the dashboard than the accident, but maybe that is his genius maybe. And there are beautiful things here - paper butterflies that flutter out windows and ghost ships and dying angels. And prose! And surprises! But I didn't feel like I learned anything really, and I couldn't help but want to see the accident.

What a long drawn out process! I've been reading this book of short stories for 6 months during lunch breaks, yet I bought this in my first couple of weeks of living in Bogota over three years ago.

The stories are mostly in chronological order and I do like the stories that appear in the 60s and 70s over those from the 40s and early 50s. I think that was Gabo finding his story-telling voice and hitting his stride. The earlier stories were about death and were really very strange, I couldn't quite follow who was who was who was the narrator, but these early elements of death are important for the development of life in death and death in life that I find later on in the collection.

The brilliant The Last Voyage of the Ghost Ship stands out, as does Big Mama's Funeral where if you're longing for more Macondo, you'll get it in that story. I also laughed at A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings and enjoyed the horrific The Night of the Curlews which is like reading a nightmare.

The collection finished with the longest story, The Incredible and Sad Tale of Innocent Erendira and her Heartless Grandmother which was sad, hopeful and depressing.

Now that I've read these stories in English, I think I'll read some in Spanish some time in the future, but I will probably skip the first part Eyes of a Blue Dog and focus on the much more interesting stories in the second and third parts.

Absolutely beautifully written, definitely have to be attentive when reading. Not a light read whatsoever, lots of dark and somber elements. I liked his later stories more than his earlier ones. Not my personal cup of tea due to how heavy/gloomy the stories are, but if you don’t mind that and love exquisite writing this is for you. (I’d rate this 2.5 stars if I could)

My personal ranking of all the stories:

1. Balthazar’s Marvelous Afternoon
2. The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World
3. There are no thieves in this town
4. Eva is inside her cat
5. The Last Voyage of the Ghost Ship
6. Big Mamas Funeral
7. A very old man with enormous wings
8. Innocent Eréndira
9. Montiel’s Widow
10. Death constant beyond love
11. The other side of death
12. Bitterness for three sleepwalkers
13. Blacamán the good, vendor of miracles
14. One of these days
15. Monologue of Isabel watching it rain in Macondo
16. The woman who came at six o’clock
17. The Sea of lost time
18. Nabo
19. Tuesday Siesta
20. Artificial roses
21. Someone has been disarranging these roses
22. Eyes of a blue dog
23. The night of the curlews
24. The third resignation
25. Dialogue with the mirror
26. One Day After Saturday

Ludi naslovi i još luđe priče. Apsurdne. O smrti iz svake moguće perspektive. Mračne, sarkastične.

Prvih par dhkdsdjsoks 11/10!!
Najbolje kratke priče koje sam ikad pročitala.

Opinión impopular

En realidad 2,5

Leer a Gabriel García Márquez es un gran desafío. Puede que sus obras sean aclamadas por el mundo entero y, que aquí, en Colombia, se haya convertido en el máximo referente de la literatura colombiana; sin embargo, sus libros no son tan sencillos para leer como parece, ni siquiera para lectores experimentados. Considero que aunque sus historias pueden llegar a ser profundas y mágicas, también pueden tornarse muy confusas para cualquier lector. El contexto de sus obras, estilo literario y singular prosa transforman la experiencia de leer a Gabo en un verdadero reto. Para leer y disfrutar a Gabo se requiere paciencia y mucha tolerancia a la frustración. Es un autor que puede producir bloqueos, causarte pereza por el realismo mágico, o simplemente hacerte sentir que no eres capaz de disfrutar y comprender un contenido escrito con excentricidad y ambigüedad. Diría que leer a Gabo es un reto para valientes o para aquellos que quieren probar a sí mismos su capacidad de superar cualquier reto. La experiencia puede llegar a ser genial, sí, pero no hay garantía que el próximo libro que leas del autor te genere buenas sensaciones. Sé que muchos aman a Gabo incluso llegando a la idolatría, pero yo, personalmente, pienso que es un autor difícil de comprender.

Ahora bien, esta recopilación de todos sus cuentos (Doce cuentos peregrinos no se incluye en la edición que leí porque es una versión de 1983 y en ese entonces no se había publicado), nos demuestra la faceta multifacética que tenía Gabo para escribir porque aquí encontramos cuentos oníricos, crudos, violentos, críticos, cínicos y cotidianos. Si tuviera que elegir una palabra para describir el común denominador de todos sus cuentos, simplemente no podría elegirla porque sus cuentos son muy diferentes entre sí, tanto por su temática, como por su composición. Aunque algunos cuentos no me gustaron, lo confieso, debo reconocer que es impresionante como escribía Gabo. Su riqueza léxica, su variedad de tonos y estilos, y la singularidad de sus ideas, crea una imagen en tu mente de un señor muy inteligente, con mucha información, que simplemente hacia lo que se le daba la gana con las palabras. Sí, difícil de comprender por momentos, por su tendencia a escribir como si para él los libros significasen un ejercicio avanzado de criptología; sin embargo, más allá de sus excentricidades, considero que su prosa es muy creativa y no la tiene ningún otro autor. Sinceramente, es para aplaudir su talento.

Mi problema con esta recopilación de cuentos es que, a pesar de que Gabo tiene habilidades espectaculares como escritor, no lo he disfrutado tanto como lo esperaba. No puedo negar que tiene cuentos buenos entre los que destaco Los funerales de la Mamá Grande, y La increíble y triste historia de la cándida Eréndira y de su abuela desalmada, pero muchos no son tan interesantes. De hecho, hay cuentos que te dejan pasmado, no por su profundidad, sino porque son inconclusos, aburridos y raros. Claramente, como eso no es lo que esperaba de Gabo entonces me sentí confundido y cavilaba: ¿Será que no leí bien? ¿Seré yo el problema? Pero no, yo no era el problema. El problema es que muchos de aquellos cuentos no me impactaron, ni me sorprendieron, ni mucho menos me emocionaron. Mi ego me exigió disfrutar obligatoria y forzosamente cada cuento porque tengo grabado en mi mente la creencia de que Gabo es un excelente escritor, pero mi conciencia gritó en muchos tramos su insatisfacción. Por tanto, mi experiencia la describo como una guerra sin sentido contra mi ego que irracionalmente pretendía que la realidad fuera conforme a sus expectativas. De Gabo disfruté mucho El amor en los tiempos del cólera porque su historia tiene un inicio, nudo y desenlace muy interesantes y evidentes. Lamentablemente, ese detalle no lo presentan muchos de estos cuentos porque empiezan y terminan en cualquier parte, como si solo fueran fragmentos de un proyecto inconcluso. Eso no me gustó.

A pesar de la guerra que libré he decidido terminar este libro para, acostumbrarme nuevamente, a las extrañezas y estilo de Gabo, ya que, mi verdadero objetivo, es aventurarme en el difícil reto llamado Cien años de soledad. Antes de embaucarme en esta empresa necesitaba ganar confianza, tomar experiencia y estar preparado para lo que pueda venir. Afortunadamente, en esta recopilación hay algunas historias de Macondo, pueblo ficticio creado por el autor donde se desarrolla el argumento de Cien años de soledad, por lo que aquellos fragmentos me han ayudado como reconocimiento del terreno en el que moraré en los próximos meses. Espero tener una buena experiencia.

En resumen, una recopilación que solo recomiendo para los fanáticos de Gabo. Este libro no es una buena elección si lo que buscas es conocer por primera vez al autor porque entonces, existe la posibilidad, de que tu aburrimiento y enojo provoque que este libro salga "misteriosamente" volando directo contra la pared de tu habitación. Gabo escribe muy bien, eso no tiene discusión, pero recomiendo sus historias con más extensión. Son más entretenidas, profundas y críticas. En cambio estos cuentos tienen poco de eso. Mi calificación de 2,5 refleja mi reconocimiento por la prosa del autor, pero mi insatisfacción personal por la gran mayoría de sus pequeños relatos. Querido Gabo, nos encontraremos en una próxima ocasión, espero disfrutar más de tu compañía para entonces.

মার্কেজের ম্যাজিকাল দুনিয়ায় ঘুরে বেড়ানোর আনন্দটা অন্যরকম। এবং আমার ব্যক্তিগত অভিমত, তার বড় উপন্যাসগুলোর চেয়ে ছোট গল্পে তার ম্যাজিক রিয়েলিজম আরও প্রগাঢ় হয়ে ফুটে উঠেছে। প্রতিটা গল্পেই 'কি হল এটা?' টাইপ একটা অনুভূতি কাজ করে। কি সুন্দর!

মার্কজ এর এই ছোট গল্পগুলো না পড়লে বোঝা যায়না কত স্বাভাবিক প্রেক্ষাপটে আমাদের পাশাপাশি একটা ম্যাজিকাল দুনিয়া বয়ে যেতে পারে। তার লেখাকে এক বাক্যে বর্ণনা করতে বলা হলে সবসময় বলি I feel tranquil. সমস্যা হল, এই শব্দটার ভাবার্থ বাংলা ভাষায় অনেক থাকলেও ঠিক এই 'শান্ত'টাকে ব্যখ্যা করার উপায় আমার জানা নেই। মার্কেজের দুনিয়ায় আছে কিছু বিষাদ, কিছু ভালোবাসা, আছে সময়ের অনন্ত বয়ে চলা। আমাদের অনুভূতিও তো ম্যাজিকাল। অনুভূতিটা যদি একটা আকার নিতে পারত, বাস্তব দুনিয়ার সাথে মিলে মিশে এক হয়ে যেতে পারত, কি হত? গল্পগুলোয় তেমন দুনিয়ার হয়তো দেখা মেলে, হয়তো আয়নার কোন প্রতিচ্ছবিতে একাকার হয়ে যায় আমাদের শরীরের ভিতরে বেজে ওঠা কোন প্রাচীন সঙ্গীতের প্রতিধ্বনি।

মার্কেজের ৩টা বই (i.e: Eyes of a blue dog, Big Mama's Funeral, The incredible and sad tale of innocent Erendira and her heartless Grandmother ) থেকে নেয়ে ২৫-২৬টা গল্প আছে। প্রায় সবগুলাই খুব সুন্দর। Eyes of a blue dog, Dialogue with the mirror, Tuesday siesta, No thieves in this town, Erendira and her heartless grandmother are my personal favorites.

আপনার যদি শহীদুল জহির বা আখতারুজ্জামান ইলিয়াস পছন্দ হয়, মার্কেজের এই ছোটগল্পের কালেকশন রিকমেন্ডেড। ভাল লাগবে আশা করি।

হ্যাপি রিডিং।

"While he was sinking into delirium. When he had read the tales of embalmed pharaohs. As his fever rose, he felt himself to be the protagonist. A kind of emptiness in his life had begun there. From then on he had been unable to distinguish, to remember what events were part of his delirium and what were part of his real life."

روعة عجبني قصص كثير جدًا بالذات الثلاث مجموعات الأولي لأن عوالمهم كانت سحرية أكثر و القصص كانت مرتبطة ببعض بخيط رفيع جدًا
بس كان موجود!!

You have to stay with this collection for awhile before it starts to grow on you, for it is compiled in chronological order, and throws the spotlight on the evolution of this writer and his craft as he matures towards winning the Nobel Prize for Literature.

The 26-story collection is comprised of selections from three volumes of short stories that were published in the 1960’s and ‘70’s. The stories in the first volume, Eyes of Blue Dog, are the hardest to read as they are interior monologues and reminiscences with very little action or movement, the protagonists often pre-occupied with death. The characters feel and sense their world viscerally, and the titles bear little resemblance to the content of the pieces, and yet, given that the author was in his twenties when these stories were written, it foreshadows the literary maturity that was to develop later. We see some dialogue and movement appear in the later stories in this volume. There is a tendency to repeat lines like “The curlews pecked out our eyes” or “A horse kicked me in the head” to emphasise the direness of the characters’ situations. And when the Negro who sang in the park comes to take our protagonist away to “sing in the choir” we realize that the latter is dying; when the torrential rains run for days, floods the town and addles the mind, we are “shown” this by the townspeople seeing and smelling bodies from the graveyard floating in the streets - great imagery!

The second volume, Big Mama’s Funeral, is set in Macondo, Garcia Marquez’s fictional hometown and the one he immortalized in his novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude. The corrupt mayor, the rich industrialist, the thief and other characters like the Buendia family flit in and out of the stories playing different roles. The writer’s irony begins to appear in these stories: the widow of the rich man who believes her dead spouse was noble when he was a mass murderer, the artist who gets beaten up for exposing the rich man’s corrupt soul, the blind grandmother who “sees” everything in her granddaughter’s life. The author even has his take on the Wandering Jew story, a metaphor used throughout literature. The final story, from which this volume gets its title, is a grand metaphor to the death of the old way of life and the birth of the new one, the rule of the landed gentry giving way to democracy. It is also a story in which Garcia Marquez’s fiction, in this collection, transcends the micro view to take on the macro one.

The third volume, The Incredible and Sad Tale of Innocent Erendira and Her Heartless Grandmother, seems pre-occupied with taking the author’s vision down to the level of children. Two of the tales are subtitled “A Tale for Children,” and speak of strange people and ships that appear from out of the sea to teach us lessons. Yet, other pre-occupations, not necessarily juvenile in content, emerge: the dying and corrupt senator who sacrifices his reputation to feast on the body of a young girl, a theme that Garcia Marquez fully developed in his final novel, Memories of My Melancholy Whores; the balance of good and evil, both needing each other to survive. The final story from which the volume gets it’s name, is the longest in the entire collection, and its title says it all: poor Erendira the 14 year-old virgin is exploited to the fullest by her wicked grandmother and is indentured to the old whore for life. Despite the exaggerated situations that are typical of magic realism, some interesting truths emerge: smugglers do not interfere with the Church - wrong enemy to take on!; those who are abused and manipulated will abuse and manipulate; when one is focused on escape, one often leaves loved ones behind. The imagery is also magical: the wind is always howling outside Erendira’s tent as she travels the desert country selling her body, the wind of her misfortune, we think; the grandmother’s blood is green, with envy of her granddaughter’s youth and promise, we wonder: glass changes colour when the love-struck Ulises (Erendira’s lover) touches it, testament to seeing things with rose-tinted glasses, perhaps?

Although the geography we travel through in this collection is around coastal Colombia, our travels through human experience is far, wide and deep. This is a great collection to understand the evolution of a writer from his narrow beginnings to the expansive weave and heft he achieved in his later writing.

He really is a master storyteller! While some of the stories flew over my head, the others kept me intrigued. And the thing about his stories is that even if you think something is missing or is not making sense, the writing style and beautiful prose keeps you hooked. Also, Innocent Eréndira broke my heart.

I liked some of the stories. Many not so much. Perhaps reading all of them over a few days didn't help, but I'm not sure I would have returned if I put it aside. It just isn't an aesthetic that appeals to me (not a fan of Borges either).

Overall this was an interesting read especially since I'm a fan of Marquez and relished seeing the evolution of his writing over time.

Though Marquez's voice was strong in the early stories, I'm not sure these more abstract attempts at magical realism represent his best work, though I suspect they served as a basis for his future writings and were a necessary step in his development as a writer. As a result, the first several stories weren't what I expected, yet still worth reading if only for the beautiful use of language and imagery. The last half of the book is much more in line with some other works that I've read and enjoyed, including Of Love and Other Demons and Memories of My Melancholy Whores.

Some of the best stories in this compilation of short stories included: The Woman Who Came at Six O'Clock, There Are No Thieves in the Town, The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World, Blackman the Good, Vendor of Miracles, and The Incredible and Sad Tale of Innocent Erendira and Her Heartless Grandmother.

Marquez is a genius at creating images using unexpected and odd pairings often mixing the senses to give the reader a fresh experience.

For example in Night of the Curlews he writes:

We caught the smell of sad women sitting and waiting. We felt the prolonged emptiness of the hall before us while we walked toward the door, before the other smell came out to greet us, the sour smell of the woman sitting by the door.

From the Monologue of Isabel Watching It Rain in Macondo:

At dawn on Thursday the smells stopped, the sense of distance was lost. The notion of time, upset since the day before, disappeared completely. The there was no Thursday. What should have been Thursday was a physical, jellylike thing that could have been parted with the hands in order to look into Friday.

A final example from Tuesday Siesta:

"God's will is inscrutable," said the Father.

But he said it without much conviction, partly because experience had made him a little skeptical and partly because of the heat.

Marquez is also a master at describing his characters in a way that makes them come to life on the page and represents the antithesis of cliche.

From Balthazar's Marvelous Afternoon:

He had two weeks' growth, short, hard and bristly hair like the mane of a mule, and the general expression of a frightened boy. But it was a false impression.

And

He was smoothly and delicately fat, like a woman who had been beautiful in her youth, and he had delicate hands. His voice seemed like that of a priest speaking Latin.

From Tuesday Siesta:

The woman seemed too old to be her mother, because of the blue veins on her eyelids and her small, soft, and shapeless body, in a dress cut like a cassock. She was riding with her spinal column braced firmly against the back of the seat, and held a peeling patent-leather hand-bag in her lap with both hands. She bore the conscientious serenity of someone accustomed to poverty.

Finally and most importantly, his writing is passionate and has a seductive quality. His sex scenes are subtle and soft yet incredibly sexy.

From my favorite and last story in the book, The Incredible and Sad Tale of Innocent Erendira:

Excerpt contains a spoiler. n  

Erendina lay down on the bed but he remained trembling where he was: at the decisive moment his determination had weakened. Erendira took him by the hand to hurry him up and only then did she notice his tribulation. She was familiar with that fear.

"Is it the first time?" she asked him.

Ulises didn't answer but he smiled in desolation. Erendira became a different person.

"Breathe slowly," she told him. "That's the way it always is the first time. Afterwards you won't even notice."

She laid him down beside here and while she was taking his clothes off she was calming him maternally.

"What's your name?"

"Ulises."

"That's a gringo name," Erendira said.

"No, a sailor name."

Erendira uncovered his chest, gave a few little orphan kisses and sniffed him.

"It's like you were made of gold all over, " she said, "But you smell of flowers."

"It must be the oranges," Ulises said.

Calmer now, he gave a smile of complicity.

"We carry a lot of birds along to throw people off track," he added, "but what we're doing is smuggling a load of oranges across the border."

"Oranges aren't contraband," Erendira said.

"These are," said Ulises. "Each one is worth fifty thousand pesos."

Erendira laughed for the first time in a long while.

"What I like about you," she said, "is the serious way you make up nonsense."

She had become spontaneous and talkative again, as if Ulises' innocence had changed not only her mood but her character. The Grandmother, such a short distance away from misfortune, was still talking in her sleep.

She ranted on with great shouts and with a stubborn passion for several hours. But Ulises couldn't hear her because Erendira had loved him so much and so truthfully that she loved him again for half price while her grandmother was raving and kept on loving him for nothing until dawn.

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