شاهکار نبود.
ترجمه خوب بود. قصه اونجور گیرا نبود.
رمان نویسی به وسیله شخصیت پردازی، این می تونه توضیح مناسبی باشه برای از عشق و دیگر اهریمنان.
یه جورایی یادآور آدمهای مصروعِ قمارباز داستایوسکی.
خوندنش لذت های متعدد و پراکنده ای به تو می ده، مثل گوش کردن به شوپن.

برای من از نظر کشف کیفیت نوشتار مارکز حائز اهمیت بود.
می تونه خیلی از نظر تکنیک و سبک مورد بحث قرار بگیره، قوت ها و ضعف های گل درشتی داره.

Una historia conmovedora y desgarradora en partes iguales.

I have always drawn parallels between Marquez and Murakami not only because of the common element of magical realism so discernible in their works, but also because of their talent for splendid imagery.
But it goes without saying, there's a pronounced difference between their styles as well.

While I understood perfectly well that Murakami likes to crack open the spine of a city bustling with life and activity on the surface and fish out its soul from the intimidating depths of its anatomy, Marquez had me stumped with One Hundred Years of Solitude. While Murakami tries to dissect the universal human condition with so much empathy, does Marquez only seek to tell licentious tales?

Even though I enjoyed reading One Hundred Years of Solitude, I remember feeling quite overwhelmed by the time I was done with it. I couldn't quite fathom all its underlying implications. It was much too immense in its scope.

But finally with my second Marquez book, I think I've succeeded in my endeavors to decode his writing, to a certain extent.

Besides having that eerie, surreal quality characteristic of Marquez's style, Of love and other demons is a subtle reproof against religious dogmas and race divides.
It is like an ephemeral tapestry of breath-taking beauty, woven with garishly loud colors.
As you flip through the pages of this little gem, you are transported to an alternative plane of reality where absurd things make wonderful sense and commonplace affairs of everyday reality seem inconsequential. Where images of a marquis' ageing wife engaging in wild orgies with her African slaves and allusions to sodomy do not make the reader recoil in horror. Where the instance of a 36 year-old man wanting to make love to a 12 year-old girl, makes you think of a doomed romance but not pedophilia. Because by that time Marquez would have cast his magic spell on you and whisked you away to a neverland where social conventions and the established notions of morality are immaterial.
He becomes the puppeteer, the illusionist and the enthralled readers can only follow his lead and believe in what he wants them to believe.

While I've given both One Hundred Years of Solitude and Of love and other demons 4 stars, I have to admit I liked this book much more than the former.
I'm hoping Marquez will grow on me.

Wild!

Colombia, 18th century. Twelve-year-old Sierva Maria de Todos Los Angeles is, among many bystanders in the street, bitten by a rabid dog. The alarms setting off when several of the victims start dying. Estranged daughter of the dissimilar Marquis Ignacio and his devilish wife Bernarda, the youngling was mostly abandoned and practically raised by the house slaves. Her wild behavior and strange african speech sparking increasing concern of the medic and local authorities. Are her troubling antics just traits of an atypically raised child, or the onsetting symptoms of a maddening incurable disease?

Quite possibly along with  Chronicle of a Death Foretold, one of the best works of Garcia Marquez I’ve read so far. I especially enjoyed the sad and tragic backstories of Ignacio, Bernarda and Judas Iscariote. Didn’t particularly enjoy much the last part in the Convent of Santa Clara and Father Cayetano to be honest; but that scene with the hair… Jeez! That was really something.

I’m positive I’ve read this book more than a decade ago and, re-skimming it today, I find again the reasons I enjoyed it so much then, and now. You can always count on good old Gabo, the almighty father of magical realism, to tell you a profoundly bittersweet tragic story that will perpetually endure within your memory for years and years to come, if not forever. Recommendable.

*** I hardly remember anything about the movie (2009). I watched it more than a decade ago and rated it 4 stars on IMDB, so I guess that explains why it doesn’t ring a bell. It’s obviously pretty forgettable, and I’m not subjecting myself to watch it again. One time was enough I think!

-----------------------------------------------
n  PERSONAL NOTEn:
[1994] [160p] [Classics] [3.5] [Recommendable]
-----------------------------------------------

★★★★☆ Chronicle of a Death Foretold.  
★★★★☆ Of Love and Other Demons.  [3.5]
★★★☆☆  The Autumn of the Patriarch.  [3.5]
★★★☆☆ The Story of a Shipwrecked Sailor.  
★★☆☆☆ No One Writes to the Colonel.  [2.5]
★★☆☆☆ Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories.
★☆☆☆☆ Innocent Erendira and Other Stories. [1.5]

-----------------------------------------------

¡Salvaje!

Colombia, siglo XVIII. Sierva Maria de Todos Los Angeles de doce años es, entre muchos transeúntes de la calle, mordida por un perro rabioso. Las alarmas disparándose cuando varias de las víctimas empiezan a morir. Hija distanciada del disimilar Marquéz Ignacio y su endiablada esposa Bernarda, la criatura fue mayormente abandonada y prácticamente criada por los esclavos de la casa. Su alocado comportamiento y extraño lenguaje africano despertando mucha inquietud en el médico y las autoridades locales. ¿Son sus preocupantes actitudes sólo rasgos de una niña atípicamente criada, o los síntomas prevalecientes de una enloquecedora incurable enfermedad?

Muy posiblemente con  Crónica de una Muerte Anunciada, una de las mejores obras de Garcia Marquez que leí hasta el día. Especialmente disfruté la triste y trágica historia de fondo de Ignacio, Bernarda y Judas Iscariote. No me agradó particularmente mucho la última parte en el Convento de Santa Clara y el Padre Cayetano para ser sincero; pero esa escena con el pelo…. ¡Cielos! Eso sí fue increíble.

Estoy convencido que leí este libro hace más de una década y, volviéndolo a repasar hoy, encuentro de nuevo las razones por las que lo disfruté tanto entonces, y ahora. Siempre podés contar con el buen Gabo, el padre todopoderoso del realismo mágico, para contarte una historia profundamente agridulce y trágica que perdurará perpetuamente en tu memoria por años y años por venir, si no es que para siempre. Recomendable.

*** No recuerdo casi nada de la película (2009). La vi hace más de una década y la califiqué 4 estrellas en IMDB, así que supongo que eso explica porque no conservo ningún recuerdo. Obviamente es bastante olvidable, y no voy a obligarme a verla otra vez. ¡Una vez ya fue suficiente!

-----------------------------------------------
n  NOTA PERSONALn:
[1994] [160p] [Clásicos] [3.5] [Recomendable]
-----------------------------------------------

☆4.5/5☆

▪Plot 5/5
▪Details 5/5
▪Characters 5/5
▪Romance 3.5/5
▪Logic 4/5
▪Writing style 4.5/5
▪Enjoyment 4.75/5

This one gives me The house of the spirits by Isabel Allende vibes, which I love. ♡

I would recommend Of love and other demons, especially to those who have enjoyed The house of the spirits, but thought that story is too long.

"No hay medicina que cure lo que no cura la felicidad".

Gabriel García Márquez es uno de esos escritores bendecidos por el arte de narrar historias como los dioses. A lo largo de su vasta carrera literaria supo abrirse a paso firme su camino glorioso en la literatura, recibió el premio Nobel en 1982 y se instaló entre los mejores autores que nos dio el siglo XX. Todas sus novelas en general reflejan su maestría única, su impronta inequívoca y son leídas por gente de todo el mundo.
Y fue además a partir de “Cien años de soledad” que su fama se transformó en algo eterno. Hoy en día decir García Márquez es lo mismo que nombrar a cualquier escritor laureado sea del país que sea. Se ganó su bien merecido lugar entre los mejores.
Pero además, debemos reconocer que no hay lector en el mundo que no asocie al gran Gabriel García Márquez con el “realismo mágico”. Independientemente de que algunos puristas consideren que otros escritores se le anticiparon en la invención del género (el caso de Juan Rulfo es el más emblemático), es en él donde más podemos experimentar esa maravilla que nos aporta el realismo mágico.
Y obviamente este libro, “Del amor y otros demonios” no iba a ser la excepción. Es digno de destacar también la inventiva de García Márquez para pertrechar una historia como la de Sierva María de Todos los Ángeles. Pero además de los elementos del realismo en cuestión hay en esta novela una historia de amor, otra de poder, una tercera de fe (por nombrar algunas) y todas ellas entrelazadas por los personajes que las viven.
Casi de una manera similar a “Crónica de una muerte anunciada”, cada uno de los personajes tiene su propia historia y así, nos vamos enterando de lo que le sucede al marqués de Casalduero, Ygnacio Alfaro y Dueñas, padre de Sierva María, o de lo que viven otros personajes como Bernarda Cabrera, su esposa, los avatares del sacerdote Cayetano Delaura, que muere de amor por Sierva Maria, los oscuros pasajes que leemos del obispo don Toribio Cáceres, la ponzña y perfidia de una de las villanas de la novela, me refiero a la abadesa del convento de Santa Clara, Josefa Miranda y de otros personajes secundarios como la negra Dominga de Adviento y una monja presa en el convento, Martina Laborde.
Todo, absolutamente todo, gira alrededor de Sierva María quien luego de ser mordida por un perro es sospechada de haber contraído la rabia y de ahí, luego de las peores sospechas de creerse que está poseída por demonios. A partir de allí y de la reclusión en el convento por imposición de su padre el marqués se desarrollará la trama del libro hasta el final.
Otro aspecto notable de realismo mágico en Sierva María es su larguísima cabellera color cobre de veintidós metros y once centímetros, algo que García Márquez vio personalmente cubriendo una nota para el periódico en el que trabajaba y que le dio origen a este libro. También de que Sierva María vive con los esclavos negros, comparte sus costumbres y aprende sus idiomas. Ella no es una niña cualquiera, es un ser humano extraordinario que nadie comprenderá y su entrada en el convento de Santa Clara generará los sentimientos más encontrados.
Algunos pasajes de este libro son realmente maravillosos y es en ellos en donde el realismo mágico explota con mil colores, como en este caso:
"La vida no les dio tiempo. Un 9 de noviembre estaban tocando a dúo bajo los naranjos, porque el aire era puro y el cielo alto y sin nubes, cuando un relámpago los cegó, un estampido sísmico los sacó de quicio, y doña Olalla cayó fulminada por la centella. La ciudad sobrecogida interpretó la tragedia como una deflagración de la cólera divina por una culpa inconfesable. El marqués ordenó funerales de reina, en los cuales se mostró por primera vez con los tafetanes negros y la color macilenta que había de llevar hasta siempre. Al regreso del cementerio lo sorprendió una nevada de palomitas de papel sobre los naranjos del huerto. Atrapó una al azar, la deshizo, y leyó: Ese rayo era mío.”
O este otro que marqué y que identifico como digno de la belleza narrativa propia de Gabo:
”A Delaura, en cambio, lo único que le llamó la atención fue el alboroto de los gallos. «No son sino seis pero cantan como ciento», dijo la abadesa. «Además, un cerdo habló y una cabra parió trillizos». Y agregó con ahínco: «Todo anda así desde que su obispo nos hizo el favor de mandarnos este regalo emponzoñado». Igual alarma le causaba el jardín florecido con tanto ímpetu que parecía contra natura. A medida que lo atravesaban le hacía notar a Delaura que había flores de tamaños y colores irreales, y algunas de olores insoportables."
Estos son sólo dos extractos de los tantos que posee el libro y que demuestran por qué Gabriel García Márquez, lo más maravilloso que nos regaló la literatura de Colombia y que a mí me sigue sorprendiendo con cada libro que leo de él.
¡Qué bien que escribe Gabo!

Instead of writing a review by jotting down my bleak understanding of the glorious book by Gabo I thought of weaving a little tale based on it and using the characters along with the principle symbolism in the book-




'Disbelief is more resistant than faith because it is sustained by the senses'

As always I,Father Delaura lost focus and stumbled on my way to the Bishop's room where I was invited to witness an eclipse. In the cloistered silence I found the bishop in a pensive mood holding a smoked glass in his hand for looking at the sun. I wanted to tell him I have fallen for the possessed girl I was supposed to exorcise. I wanted to shriek at him, implore him, beg at his feet to condone my misgivings on faith in spite of being an eminent priest and a renowned Father and a dutiful librarian. But I couldn't come to terms with my own imbecility and indecision.
The sun has always been the sigil of a pristine presence, a God,an indomitable focus of energy. The Bishop could see the eclipse through the smoked glass and said that wherever he looked he could still the see the eclipse. His faith in God was undoubted and his arguments supporting his faith were insurmountable. He always came up with the most cleverest and undeterred of arguments favouring his position. He had faith, he had focus, he closed one of his eyes and through the smoked glass could relish the sight of the Eclipse. He requested me to look at the eclipse but with focus and using only one of eyes as the eclipse will go away in a few hours. In my state of perpetual distraction I looked at the eclipse with both my eyes without using the smoked glass and ended up nearly burning my retinas in the process. I covered my afflicted eye with a dark patch.
I tried telling the Bishop of my doubts regarding the satanic possession of the girl and maybe rabies was the true reason behind the girl's instability and the girl should be left in the deft hands of doctors or physicians to come up with a cure. As we proceeded with the discussion,I tried to reason with him but he came up with an invincible ambiguity which left me more perplexed than defeated.

t'We cannot intervene in the rotation of the earth,'said Delaura.
t'But we could be unaware of it so that it does not cause us grief,'said the Bishop.'More than faith, what Galileo lacked was a heart.'
I left the Bishop's room unconvinced.

I had always loved reading books ranging from the religious ones in Latin to the forbidden 'books of chivalry' until one day I was deprived of my decrepit copy of 'Amadis of Gaul' and was coerced to devote my absolute faith in God rather than immersing myself in frivolities of chivalry.

Mustering my aspirations to save the girl, I went to the physician who was the first person outside the immediate noble family of the Marquis who was made aware of the Girl's instability ,which as his scientific capacity of a doctor would decree, said that the dog bite might be the the cause of the Girl's distress. The physician,a man of scholarly disposition with a chaotic and a dubious past invited me in devoid of any apprehension. He was not a bit disconcerted to allow a man of religion to enter his house. I was fascinated with the amount of books on his shelves. I was impressed by his Latin speaking skills and he showed me the forbidden book I was deprived of in my younger days-'the four volumes of Amadis of Gaul'. I gave a glance of awe over the precious edition and I could feel my other half of my being, my sunburnt eye plunging into the throes of ephemeral recuperation.

t'He removed the patch and tossed it in the thrash bin.'The only thing wrong with that eye is that it sees more than it ought too,' he said.

We discussed about books and scientific things which were deemed prohibited and leaned over the line of heresy. I shared my heartfelt concern of the affected Girl with the physician. I inadvertently confessed my love for her. I was ready to accept science as the only mechanism of curing the Girl.

t'It would be you and I against everyone else,'he(Delaura) said.
t'Which is why I was surprised that you came,' said the physician.'I am no more than hunted prey in the game preserve of the Holy Office.'
t'The truth is I am not really sure why I have come,'said Delaura.'Unless that child has been imposed on me by the Holy pirit to test the strength of my faith.'


I thanked the physician for his medical help and for the eye wash and returned to my room.

I was left alone with my chaotic conscience. I was enmeshed with an unconquerable quandary, an eternal paradox of religion and science; my pair of eyes which helped me visualize and drink in the beauty of the world in tandem yet I was made to choose between the two in order to save the girl I loved. I lacked focus in science, held a wavering devotion towards God. It was written in the destiny of the Girl and in our fate of wishful togetherness that she would be saved only by one of the two,as seen through one of my eyes. The Girl was everything to me, the love of my life, the burning sensation in my loins, the apple of my eye and the Indomitable Sun.
My cravings drove me back and forth between the erudition of the Physician and the unflinching faith of the Bishop. I was lost in distraction in the whirlpool of the eternal question-Science or God? Rabies or Demonic possession? Maybe the demon really possessed her or maybe she really had rabies.
Distraught and vexed I tried looking at the Sun, I tried to savour the beauty of the eclipse with both my eyes gifted by God and backed by science, then I heard the ululating chants of 'Vade Retro' beating mercilessly on my ear drums, I felt the whirlpool taking me along it's dreadful path as the sun seared my eyes with a betrayed pain of faith and the treacherous agony of science.

I love Marquez' writing and this book is so wonderfully uncomfortable and insane - perfect to read during a heatwave.

My favorite Gabo book so far (and I´ve read more than one or two).

I was just going to leave it at that, but since I just finished it, I may as well write down why it merits space on my ¨favorites¨shelf while I still have the taste of black beans and rice in my mouth and the smell of the ocean in my hair......

First, I am happy to see in other reviews that I´m not the only one who´s noticed the trend of men falling in love with prepubescent girls in Gabo´s works--that wasn´t the author we studied in college! But since this is truly an affair of the heart or obsessive love (see it as you will) and doesn´t go beyond that, I´m willing to let it go for this one. I still haven´t forgiven ¨Love in the Time¨ or ¨Memories¨ yet.

The way García Márquez depicts Sierva is fascinating to me. At first, you´re convinced that Sierva has so completely assimilated to the cultures of the slaves who rear her, accept her (basically, don´t neglect her or plot to kill her, as her parents do) that she truly frightens white society of the times. Her assimilation to the Other, especially a subjugated Other, is what sets the ball in motion for the novel, the excuse needed for her exorcism. But Gabo leaves enough room for doubt in the reader´s mind by never letting one see things completely from Sierva´s perspective. He recounts what she says, and somewhat delves into her feelings for the priest, but the perspectives are always those of her father, the priest, the nuns, society, the omniscient narrator--never Sierva´s. The reader is never allowed a free and complete pass into her head. There are indeed moments (see my updates) when the reader will feel the chill that her mother feels when she turns around and finds the child staring at her silently. When she awakens to a touch, and sees her at the foot of the bed. When her dreams coincide with the priest´s recurring dream, even though she doesn´t know what to make of it. And one is left wondering ¨Is she? or Isn´t she?¨ That alone, that doubt, is brilliant characterization.

The newspaper story that Gabo was covering as retold in the prologue was interesting, bordering on Gothic, even more so as it provides insight into where Gabo pulls his stories from. That´s always a gift from any writer. Oh, for the days when the opening of a crypt was the biggest news covered in a Colombian newspaper!

But what I´m still turning around in my mind is this work as the epitome of the Caribbean. There is so much covered here that extends beyond the Caribbean-the importation of slaves from different parts of Africa (sometimes done deliberately, so that the slaves on a particular plantation wouldn´t have a common language, organize, and revolt), the Inquisition´s prohibition of literature in the New World during the Colonial period, the Conquest and the Spaniards´method of building their sacred buildings on top of the razed sites of former temples, in order to make the most of the indigenous peoples´ association of place and holiness, the gradual blending of the races, Catholicism and Santería and the relationship between, etc....It´s a mini history lesson in Spanish America, but it doesn´t take over the story. It just is.

But there´s something about this book that just screams ¨Caribbean¨to me. I had noted a few images at the beginning of ¨Love in the Time of Cholera¨ that epitomized the Caribbean for me: the sound of the maid´s flip-flops slapping as she walks, the sound and smell of laundry hanging on the line to dry, the heat and humidity of the afternoon, and the heaviness that it brings you following lunch, the motion of your hammock swinging in the heat, the taste of tamarind and the bite of espresso coffee....but while in ¨Love¨ there were a few fleeting images at the beginning, this book evoked sensory images and memories constantly, to the point where I had to remind myself that it takes place on the Caribbean coast of Colombia, and not in Puerto Rico or the DR....I kept imagining places, patios, galleries, streets, plants, places, sounds and smells that I´d seen-heard-smelled before. He´s able to maintain those sensory images in this novel in a way that he didn´t in ¨Love¨. Also, I dismissed ¨Love¨ after a while as the protagonist being too ¨pendejo¨, whereas here, it seemed more realistic. And the pedophilia in ¨Love¨, the sexual relationship with a minor who had been entrusted to his care, isn´t present here--it´s actually more of a gradual process, as it might be in real life. Anyway, this richness of the images, what this book made me feel, is the reason why it will go on my list of favorites and be my favorite Gabo book, at least for now. Thanks to Radio Patio´s ¨Reto del verano¨for giving me a reason to get it off my shelf and into my head!

Update: I'm removing half a star. On this reading, I felt the ending was too abrupt. With an abundance of detail in the rest of the novel, wrapping up two lives previously entwined in three or four pages just doesn't work for me. As a friend said, "Well, I already know what the ending will be from the prologue." Yes, but there are still ways to go about it. It will still be my favorite Gabo book.

Es quizá la única, escrita por Garcia Marquez,que se da en el periodo colonial. Al leerla por segunda vez encontré, como en los libros de los Grandes, nuevas palabras. La prosa es fluida, maravillosa y el Tema de la rabia, que conozco bien,como Veterinario aplaudo los conocimientos literarios de G.M.

Claimed to be based on a true story, this novella (perhaps very short novel) reads like much of García Márquez's later works do. Strong characters made believable by the rich and well developed atmosphere that permeates each page with the lack of logic that characterizes magic realism.

Now, when I say lack of logic, I don't use it as an insult but as a way to define the indefinable, that strange quality given to a story by magical occurrences that don't follow any predetermined system.

Not his best work. Not his worst either.

English (Of Love and Other Demons) / Italiano

«An ash-gray dog with a white blaze on its forehead burst onto the rough terrain of the market on the first Sunday in December, knocked down tables of fried food, overturned Indians' stalls and lottery kiosks, and bit four people who happened to cross its path. Three of them were black slaves. The fourth, Sierva María de todos Los Àngeles, the only child of the Marquis de Casalduero, had come there with a mulatta servant to buy a string of bells for the celebration of her twelfth birthday»

Two facts giving rise this novel:

Fact number 1. Gabriel García Márquez, when he was still a young fledgling journalist, was sent by his editor-in-chief fishing for information to an ancient cloistered convent because some construction workers were opening few tombs. From one of these vaults 22 meters of auburn hair, still attached at a little female skull. On the gravestone was written: "Sierva María de todos Los Àngeles". The foreman thought, in contrast to García Márquez, this was a common event, arguing that human hair could grow up about one centimeter a month.

Fact number 2. The author's grandmother told to little Gabriel the story about a 12-year-old Marquis with long hair to the ground, died because of a bite from a rabid dog, and revered in the Caribbean for her many miracles.

The fictional link between these two episodes led to this little gem of mystery and magic. Obviously, I might add, being Gabriel García Márquez!

Vote: 8

«Un cane cenerognolo con una stella sulla fronte irruppe nei budelli del mercato la prima domenica di dicembre, travolse rivendite di fritture, scompigliò bancarelle di indios e chioschi della lotteria, e passando morse quattro persone che si trovavano sul suo percorso. Tre erano schiavi negri. L'altra fu Sierva María de todos Los Àngeles, figlia unica del marchese di Casalduero, che si era recata con una domestica mulatta a comprare una filza di sonagli per la festa dei suoi dodici anni»

Vi sono due fatti all'origine di questo romanzo:

Fatto numero 1. Un giovane Gabriel García Márquez, giornalista alle prime armi, venne mandato in cerca di notizie dal suo caporedattore presso un antico convento di clarisse poichè dei muratori stavano vuotando alcune cripte. Da una di queste vennero fuori 22 metri di capelli color rame ancora attaccati ad un piccolo cranio di ragazzina. La lapide diceva: "Sierva María de todos Los Àngeles". Il capomastro, a differenza dell'autore, reputava questo fosse un fatto piuttosto comune, poichè sosteneva che i capelli umani crescessero di un centimetro al mese, anche dopo morti.

Fatto numero 2. La nonna di García Márquez narrava al piccolo Gabriel la leggenda di una marchesina di dodici anni dai capelli lunghi tanto da toccare terra, morta a causa del morso di un cane rabbioso, e venerata nei Caraibi per i suoi molti miracoli.

La rielaborazione da parte dell'autore di questi episodi ed il loro collegamento romanzato ha portato a questo piccolo gioiello di magia e mistero. Come è ovvio che sia, trattandosi di Gabriel García Márquez!

Voto: 8