n   **3.3 stars**

“Sex is the consolation you have when you can’t have love.”n

Casual or paid sex, maybe? I don’t know. Not experienced enough to react.

I sat down with this one expecting another masterful storytelling. It was that, but at the same time, it wasn’t quite what it promised to be. And unlike any of his other works, I struggled with this one. And not because of the narrator being a somewhat blatant, unapologizing and emotionally-detached version of Nabokov’s Humbert Humbert. Gabo has written quite a handful of characters whose unlikable-quotient ranges about the same. And somehow, most of the time he ends up romanticizing the characters, and can get off with it, less because of the characters and more because of his addictive storytelling.

Now, I’ve read a good number of books already by Gabo, but when I checked my Goodreads, I saw I had rated only three of them. Well, that’s not the point here, the point is I rated all of them 5 as they all blew my mind.

I will try to explain what this story feels like to me. It’s as if, Gabo set a timer of, say 4 hours to write down the story. But then he forgot about the timer and spent 3-and-half hours writing the first half only. And then he suddenly remembered about the timer and finished the rest in a hurry.

That’s how it feels like when I read the story. I enjoyed the first half of it, and suddenly it felt like a different author altogether. And from that point, I lost half of my interest.

Not that I didn’t like the story altogether. There’s no author I think who can romanticize both deaths, and the twilight phase of life, as Gabo does. And there’s still a very personal touch to the story, anyone who’s read his memoir can see that, especially when the plot gets to the part of the narrator reminiscing his first sexual encounter.

But this novella could’ve done much, much better as a short story. It could’ve been a thematic sequel to Innocent Erendira and her Heartless Grandmother, but maybe I’m stretching here.

n   “The truth is I'm getting old, I said. We already are old, she said with a sigh. What happens is that you don't feel it on the inside, but from the outside everybody can see it.”n

"No ano dos meus noventa anos quis oferecer a mim mesmo uma noite de amor louco com uma adolescente virgem."

A julgar pelo titulo e pelo primeiro parágrafo, poder-se-ia pensar que este seria um livro todo malandreco com direito a risota. Puro engano, é exatamente o oposto. O característico bom humor de García Márques está presente em doses generosas, mas não é um humor virado para a piada fácil, é antes um humor fruto de muito conhecimento, de quem já viveu muito e já aprendeu a rir de si mesmo. Mais uma vez GGM volta ao tema da velhice e às maleitas da idade, à solidão e ao amor. Desta vez um amor puro e inocente, uma paixão platónica capaz de reavivar a vontade de ser feliz e fazer esquecer os setenta e cinco anos de diferença entre ambos.
Parece estranho? Talvez, mas a já habitual mestria do autor, torna esta história de uma delicadeza e ternura inesperadas. Um livro para ler até ao fim resistindo à tentação de tecer juízos de valor precipitados.

"O sexo é o consolo que a gente tem quando o amor não nos alcança."

I decided to pick this one up since it had been sitting on my shelves for 2 years. This book was a gift and I unfortunately I wasn't thrilled with it. The main character is a self-centered older than Methuselah of 90 years old who desires to spend a night of wild passion with a young virgin. The lady that own the brothel finds a young girl of 14 years old. Ok at this point I was like really? Needless to say the young girl is lying on a bed naked and is so drugged that she appears to be sleeping. The story continues with regular meetings like this until he so called "falls in love".

Yes I had some real problems reading about a man who has spent his entire life objectifying women for his own sexual gratification. He's a miser, a loner, and a false intellectual. I had problems grasping the point of this book. When we aren't reading about his fantasizing of this young girl, we're reading about his empty life teaching school, living in his stale uninviting house, his past sexual encounters, and interacting with people in the town. The novel was dark and was written with a tone of normalcy which really bothered me. The young girl doesn't even speak, so it's as if she is nothing more than an object. The main character turns his escapades to see this young girl, who he calls Delgadina, Thank god it's only 115 pages and the book is very small in size. into fetichism and of course it is glorified pedophilia.

I wouldn't recommend this book at all. If you're willing to stomach the arrogance of the main character and his "love" for a 14 year old check it out. Absolutely not my cup of tea and a disappointment considering how much I love One Hundred Years of Solitude. I should have known with a title like Memories of My Melancholy Whores. That gives you a good indication how women are treated in this book.

این کتاب رونویسی ه!
از مارکز چنین انتظاری نداشتم .تقریبا 80درصد کتاب رو از روی خانه زیبارویان خفته کپی کرده حتی جملات این دو کتاب شبیه همه.با این تفاوت که خانه زیبا رویان تو دهه 50 میلادی نوشته شده و یه اثر فوق العادس و هنوز تازه.متاسفانه اینقدر این کتاب مارکز تو ایران مشهور شد که همه کتاب مشهور کاواباتا رو فراموش کردن.اقای مارکز !از شما بعید بود.

n  n    “The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin.” n  n

Márquez is undoubtedly a skilled writer and I will pick up some of his other books in the future, because I do want to explore further his writing style. However, reading this has left me with a little less faith in the literary cannon.

I cannot get over how many people thought this book was beautiful and sensual. The writing was indeed beautiful. The vile fantasies of a pathetic old man? Not at all (just to be clear, my thoughts would be the same even if the character was instead a handsome 18-year old boy). One of the men that gave this a 5 stars tagged this as recommended for men who love women. Allow me a second to go throw up. Another one's review said Any book that makes me sympathize with pedophiles deserves a high rating.

I considered writing a lengthy review explaining why this book doesn't deserve to be praised but I stumbled upon a review that pretty much wraps it up. You can read Chloe's review here.

Como todos sabem, assim começa o livro: No ano que completei noventa anos, quis presentear-me com uma noite de amor louco com uma adolescente virgem.
Seria de esperar que García Márquez se tivesse virado mais para a sexualidade do que para o romantismo nesta obra.

A história aborda a vida longa e solitária de um cronista do Diario de la Paz. Cronista dominical, o homem passa os seus dias relendo e ouvindo clássicos mundiais. Segue esse ritual desde tenra idade.
Tendo partilhado a cama com mais de 500 mulheres, sem nunca realmente se apaixonar por nenhuma, e, julgando que o fim estava próximo na transição para os seus 90 anos, decide dormir com uma rapariga com idade suficiente para ser a sua bisneta.
No entanto, esta relação que começa com um simples desejo sexual não concretizado, torna-se numa linda relação platónica entre duas pessoas separadas por duas gerações.

O que normalmente seria visto como chocante - ou até considerado pedofilia por muitos - é tornado romântico, platónico e terno nas mãos de García Márquez. Ele tem o dom nato de apelar os leitores a todas as coisas incomuns de uma maneira que mais nenhum escritor consegue executar.
Neste livro não existe realidade mágica, como em Cem Anos de Solidão, mas é um livro tão harmonioso, de carácter tão tépido e enternecedor que nos dá uma percepção daquilo que nos espera numa fase da vida em que a sombra da morte parece ocupar-nos a mente a todos os segundos. Márquez elucida-nos sobre a importância do amor desinteressado e incondicional em todas as fases da vida. Principalmente quando é mais necessário: na velhice.

A 90-year decides to celebrate his birthday by having a night with a very young girl in a brothel. Let's call it a A January-December Romance. Instead he falls in love with her. An audacious story turns tender. The book’s 115 pages can be read at a sitting but I don’t think it is up to the standards of Marquez’s other great works for which he won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982.

ناصر تقوايي معتقد بود موضوع خوب و بد وجود نداره. موضوع ها همه خوبند، نويسنده ي بد زياد است.
اين كتاب ممكنه به عظمت صد سال تنهايي و به صلابت گزارش يك مرگ نباشه. ولي به هرحال نوشته ي ماركزيه كه نميشه داستان گوي خوب بودنش رو زير سوال برد. ماركز حواسش هست مرز عشق و اروتيك رو رد نكنه و به عاشقانه بودن داستان پايبنده. داستان نه پيچيدگي خاصي داره و نه كشش زياد، ولي چه ميشه كرد كه ناقل داستان گابريل گارسيا ماركزه!

Questa è una storia da leggere! Normalmente, sebbene tormente, m'innamoro della biografia o delle storie delle donne. Tuttavia dal motivo di questo libro ho adorato il personaggio. Probabilmente ho ringraziato per la prima volta lo stesso scrittore e romanziere colombiano Gabriel García Márquez.
È evidente che la storia è fantasiosa, ma mi sono reso conto che voglio essere uguale al personaggio narrato: dobbiamo seguire l'esempio di tale Don Juan, dico con un tocco di innocente invidia. Come anche il titolo del libro allude, la storia racconta l'anzianità di un signore: una persona che nel suo libro o agenda conserva tutte le date che ha passato con le puttane facendo del sesso. [...] Ovviamente ne conta a centinaia, ed è un peccato che di tale varietà di donne sia fissato con una vergine.

Memories of My Melancholy Whores is a book that is as controversial as its title promises. This book opens with one of the most memorable (in a stomach revolting way) lines I've ever encountered. A ninety year old mass professing that he indents to bed an adolescent virgin as a treat for his birthday. If this book wasn't written my Marquez; I probably would have read another page. But knowing Marquez, I knew that this is book is not likely to be an ode to perverts or anything of the sort. First we learn a bit about the old guy. He is emotionally disabled, it seems. A journalist who has visited whores all of his life, preferring to buy women rather than to earn them.The title is not a click bate, as you can see. That brings us back to the opening lines. Sure enough, our narrator, the creepy old man in question, goes to a brothel and pays for a night with an adolescent virgin. However, things don't go as planned.

You see, she (i.e. the virgin) is asleep when he enters the room. The madam gave her some kind of tranquilizer and exhausted after a hard day work, the poor girl fell asleep. The girl is indeed 'poor' in more ways that one. Our creepy old man notices the marks of physical work on her body (she has to work for a living in more ways than one), and he feels sorry for this poor girl so he leaves her to her sleep. The young virgin in question is touched by the fact that the man 'spared' her, and thus sympathy is born. He buys more time with her, and she continues to sleep, that is, she pretends to be asleep. Some might call it erotic, but I found it disturbing more than anything.

It takes a talented writer to make you read on a story like this one. Your first impulse (as a reader) is to feel revolved and horrified. I'm the first one who hates when people try to make moralistic rules apply to the books. What is the purpose of literature if we are not going to allow the writer its creativity? There are so many people who actually connect every action of every character with the writer's personal views. The whole point of literature is to make us questions things, to offer different views and to make us see things from another perspective. The way I see it, if you're going to complain about some character doing something immoral, then you might as well give up on reading.

Still, this 'turn of events in the narrative' was something I needed some times to get over with. This idea of an emotional connection forming in such bizarre and cringing circumstances. Have you perhaps read Jazz by Toni Morrison? In that novel, the author makes you sympathize with a character who kills his teenage lover. Again, what the character does is horrible, but it is not the point. What is the point? Maybe the belief that human beings can change? Maybe this crazy belief we are not determined by our past mistakes? In Jazz, she gave this theme time and attention, Morrison didn't just pardon the character. Instead, Morrison made him pay off it, as everyone has to pay, every person who decides to confront the results of their action and past mistakes. Isn't there something comforting in the fact that people can find love again? That in life, as in a book, we can sometimes turn a new page. I don't see either Tony Morrison or Gabriel Garcia Marquez as writers who encourage immorality just because they are writing about flawed characters. In fact, I think it what makes them great writers. The fact they can deal with themes of such difficulty.

However, that is not saying that I didn't feel quite sick while reading this book. Maybe it is motherly instincts taking in (not having kids doesn't make you devoid of motherly emotions you know). 'Geez, what is with this writer and adolescent girls?', I kept asking myself. Marquez can write, I cannot dispute that but something seemed fishy to me and I didn't mean just that notorious opening line. There was something odd about " Of Love and Other Demons" as well. Hm, maybe an idea of a child falling madly in love with an older man? I remember thinking- If that is what magic realism is about, I don't think I like it. But you know, reading even more South American magic realism (and more weird stuff in general) made me reconsider my opinion. Books are not reality. Literature can never be moral or immoral, it can only be good or bad. There is no doubt in my mind that this book is good literature. Maybe not great as it could have been, maybe not up to everyone's taste. I totally understand why some people cringe at the mere thought of this book. It's definitely not for everyone.

Who likes an old creepy guy who wants to bed a virgin? But that's the thing. We have all had a terrible idea at some point of our lives (hopefully not that one, though). A monstrous thought doesn't make us monsters, not if we don't act on it. It is what we do with our thoughts that matter. We are not determined nor judged for every horrible thought or action. We are all human and more similar then we would like to admit. Life is often quite horrible, and we have all done some crazy things. Isn't that what literature is about? About being human. Figuring out our humanity.

Someone might like the old creepy guy. In some circumstances. As uncomfortable as it might be to read his story, the narrator of this book does seem like a real person. So does the girl. That means that the author has done a great job of bringing them to life. I forgot their names btw, but I don't want to look them up for the sake of being more authentic. There aren't that many characters in this book (as far as I remember): the old guy, the madam and the girl are the most important ones and they are good characters. I had some issues with this book, but I can't dispute that. I felt like Marquez has crossed some lines he shouldn't have. Nevertheless, he writes so well. You cannot dispute that, as uncomfortable (or sickened) you might fee about an idea of an adolescent girl falling in love with an old guy.

I spoke a lot about the theme of love, because it is central for this novella. However, this is not only a book about falling in love, it's also about life. I quite appreciated Marguez's very detailed and often quite humorous account of what growing (really old) feels like. The story is told by protagonist of the novel, so the narrative often wonders into past and draws on experiencing of his (long) life. There is something quite sad and honest about this novel that I liked. On overall, I really don't know what to think about it. I suppose I both love and hate it at the same time. It is not the easiest of books to read, but it is quite possibly worth the torment, a bit like love itself.


...“I always had understood that dying of love was mere poetic license. That afternoon, back home again without the cat and without her, I proved that it was not only possible but that I myself, an old man without anyone, was dying of love. But I also realized that the contrary was true as well: I would not have traded the delights of my suffering for anything in the world. I had spent more than fifteen years trying to translate the poems of Leopardi, and only on that afternoon did I have a profound sense of them: Ah, me, if this is love, then how it torments.”

This story proved to be exceptionally dull to me. The writing consistently demonstrated excellence; the language, character development, and descriptions were all superb. However, the plot itself was rather disheartening and unsettling. While I appreciate literature that tackles challenging or controversial themes, the unsettling subject matter in this case didn't detract from my enjoyment. In fact, I actively seek out books with such themes.

I had problems grasping the point of this book. When we aren't reading about his fantasizing of this young girl, we're reading about his empty life teaching school, living in his stale uninviting house, his past sexual encounters, and interacting with people in the town.

This novel was penned in 2004, a period when many societies, including that of Garcia-Marquez, deemed its themes taboo. Even at that time, it wasn't considered tactfully acceptable. While the author may have aimed to shock and intrigue, I found it ultimately repulsive. Given his skill as a writer, resorting to such tactics seems unnecessary.

The fourteen-year-old girl tormented by the main character deserved a more prominent role rather than being treated as a passive object. I loathed the handling of the ending, as she had endured tragic and horrific events. I firmly believe she could have been a more compelling protagonist than the one chosen by the author.

Overall, I didn't feel very attached to this novel; it was obviously depressing and hopeless, but there wasn't much feeling or compassion for the characters.

“El año de mis noventa años quise regalarme una noche de amor con una adolescente virgen.”

Es una historia interesante y que comienza de forma potente desarrollando un aura melancólica en la que todo parece viejo, se evidencia el paso del tiempo en las locaciones y los personajes, y sin duda produce cierta tristeza ante el acto de envejecer solo.
Ahora, esto de la historia de amor no me convence tanto. Es lógico comparar esta obra con Lolita de Nabokov, y el principal problema que me nace es que aquí en ningún momento se critica este estado mental, sino que muy por el contrario se romantiza, algo que me ha dejado consternado. Al inicio todo parece una simple obsesión del protagonista, y me gustaba por donde iba, pero cuando empecé a ver que no había degeneración en el personaje, sino idealización, dejé de disfrutarlo.
En Del Amor y otros demonios tenemos un tema similar, pero la diferencia es que ahí sí existen consecuencias, los personajes pagan por su desenfreno y su "amor" prohibido. Aquí no, y eso no me agrada para nada.
Respecto al final, no comprendí muy bien si era real o producto de la imaginación del viejo.
En fin, probablemente el Gabo más flojo que he leído, aunque claro, sigue siendo un Gabo.