Ella no pudo dominar su corazón cuando lo vio atravesar la sala con una determinación demasiado ostensible y la invitó a bailar la primera pieza: «La sangre me golpeaba tan fuerte por dentro del cuerpo que ya no supe si era de rabia o de susto», me dijo ella. Él se dio cuenta y le asestó un zarpazo brutal: «Ya no tiene que decirme que sí, porque su corazón me lo está diciendo».

Ni García Márquez resiste la comparación con García Márquez.
Tardé dos meses en terminar este libro, pero se debe más a circunstancias externas que a la calidad del mismo. Sin embargo sí que fue una experiencia no tan gratificante como otras que he tenido con el autor. Los primeros capítulos son brillantes, pero lentamente ésta autobiografía se comienza a sentir como un montón de retazos pegados a la fuerza. Parecen como si Gabo estuviera cansado porque su texto no tiene el cuidado o el detalle que lo caracteriza. Las disgresiones no se manejan bien, te está hablando de la guerra de Corea y salta a hablarte de una vieja amante que volvió a ver.
Aparte de esto, tengo un problema personal con este libro y es la incesante repetición por parte del autor de que es un tímido irremediable. García Márquez, frecuentador de burdeles, cantante de boleros, seductor incansable y reportero de pata negra, se autodenomina tímido; cómo no.
Gabo definitivamente sabía muchas cosas sobre la vida pero nunca supo nada sobre la timidez.

زندگی آنچه زیسته ایم نیست ، بلکه همان چیزی است که در خاطرمان مانده و آن گونه است که به یادش می آوریم تا روایتش کنیم .

***

الگوی حماسه ای نظیر آنچه در خیال می پروراندم جز سرگذشت خانواده خودم نمی توانست باشد،که هرگز قهرمانان اصلی یا حتی قربانیان هیچ رویداد خاصی نبودند و صرفا نقش شاهدان منفعل و رنجدیدگان عام همه وقایع را ایفا می کردند.

Yavaş yavaş Marquez'den okunacak kitap sayısı azalıyor, problem değil aslında bu -zira üstadın kitapları defalarca okunmalı; Yüzyıllık Yalnızlık, Kolera Günlerinde Aşk, Aşk ve Öbür Cinler, Kırmızı Pazartesi başta olmak üzere- Bu kez zihninin depoladığı ya da zihin arkadaşlarının depolayabildiği yaşamının önemli parçalarını kendi öz yaşam öyküsü olarak anlatmış Gabo'muz. Ve öyle bir şey oldu ki bu okuma, yazmış olduğu o büyülü hikayelerinin hepsinin gerçekçi ve resmi bir altyapıdan dönüşüm geçirerek kağıdın üzerinde hürriyete kavuştuğunu belirtmeliyim. Ve çağımızın en iyi hikaye anlatıcısının tanık olduklarıyla bir dönemin Latin Amerikası hakkında ön bilgi sahibi olurken, bir yandan zihninden süzülüp gelen yaşam cümbüşüyle o coğrafyanın insanlarıyla kaynaşıyoruz fakat en önemlisi yazar olma peşindeki birinin açlıkla cebelleştiği, fedakarlıklarla dolu yaşamına uçuyoruz.

Duru bir yaşam Marquez'in anlattığı. İnsanların davranışları, tepkileri o kadar gerçekçi ki bizzat sizin tanık olduğunuz olayları size anımsatıyor gibi. Sosyal yaşamı, değiştirdikleri okullar ve ailesi hakkındaki o samimi bilgileri burada paylaşmaktansa ben kitapları ve yaşadıklarıyla olan o ilişkiyle sürdürmek istiyorum bu yazıyı.

-Kolera Günlerinde Aşkı okuyanlar ya da filmini izleyenler bilir, Doktor Urbino ağaçtaki papağanı almak üzere merdivenden çıkarken düşer ve yaşamını kaybeder. Marquez'in dedesi de aynı şekilde bir kaza geçiriyor fakat yaşamına engel oluşturan bir kaza olmuyor bu.

-Marquez'in annesi ve babası karşı çıkılan bir evliliğin zorluklarla bir araya gelen aşıkları oluyor. Her ne kadar kitabım İzmit'deki evimde kaldığı için hatırlamakta zorlansam da Ursula ve Jose Arcadio Buendia'nın da benzer olaylardan geçtiğini hatırlıyorum. Ayrıca Kolera Günlerinde Aşk'da da benzer bir motif söz konusuydu. Evlilik başa bela imiş anlaşılan o yılların Kolombiyası'nda.

-Yüzyıllık Yalnızlığın fantastik kasabası Macondo, Aracataca'daki bir çiftliğin adı.

-Muz Fabrikasındaki devlet katliamı gerçekten var olan fakat asla aydınlatılmayan bir olay.

-Albay Aureliona gibi dedesinin de gümüş balıklar yaptığı bir atölyesi var. Sadece zaman geçirmek ve sıkıntısını atabilmek için işliyor atölyeyi.

-Yüzyıllık Yalnızlığın o efsanevi olayı 'horoz dövüşü' sonrası Jose Arcadio Buendia'nın canını aldığı Jose Prudencio Aguilar olayını okuyanlar hatırlar. Marquez'in dedesi de Medardo Pacheco adındaki bir adamla siyasi bir olay nedeniyle tartışır ve birbirlerini düelloya davet ederler. Günler sonra dedesi adamı öldürür. Yüzyıllık Yalnızlık'daki Prudencio Aguilar'da ölen adamın torunun adı, ve o olaydan yıllar yılı sonra Marquez'le karşılaşıp 3 gün 3 gece boyunca anıları yad ederler..

-Gabo'nun çok güzel olan kuzeni Ena 25 yaşında erkenden hayata veda eder. Belki de Yüzyıllık Yalnızlık'ın güzeller güzeli Remedios, Ena'yı kitapta yaşamıştır, zira o kadar güzeldir ki Remedios fazla gelir yaşamı dünyaya ve rüzgarla taşınıp uçar gökyüzüne doğru.

-Yüzyıllık Yalnızlık'ı okuyanlar hatırlar Pilar Ternera ismini. Buendia soy ağacını belirleyen kadınlardan biri olmuştur bu, dul kalıp yalnızlaşan kadın. Marquez'in babannesi 14 yaşında ilkokul öğretmeniyle yatar ve daha sonra hiç evlenmeden beş oğlu ve iki kızı olmuştur.

-Marquez'in dedesininde Albay Aureliona gibi başka kadınlardan olan çocukları var ve onlarda ziyaretlerine geldiklerinde evde muhteşem bir karnaval havası oluyor.

-Kırmızı Pazartesi kitabını okuyanlar Santiago Nasar'ın nasıl bir ölümle yüzleştiğini hatırlayacaktır. O ölümü de yıllar yılı haber yapmamak için uğraşmışz gazeteci olduğu dönemlerde Marquez. Ölüm anları o kadar benzer ki tekrar hatırladım Nasar'ı. Ölmek kuşkusuz bu dünyada bırakılanlarla sakıncalı bir durum haline gelebiliyor fakat genç ve masum biri öldüğünde sakıncalı olan dünya için oluyor olmal��...

Bunlarla beraber 9 Nisan'da politikacı Gaitan'ın öldürülmesiyle başlayan olaylarla başlayan isyanlarla bir ülkenin politik gerilimleri, tüylerimizi diken diken ediyor. Özellikle 60-80 li yılların Türkiyesi akıllara geliyor tüm bunlar olurken. Gaitan öldüğünde o sırada henüz 20li yaşlarında olan Fidel'de Kolombiya'dadır.

Ve son olarak bu duru yaşam, Marquez'in eğitim konusunda kendisine yönelik eleştirisi, yüzmeyi bilmemesi, Faulkner'in Ses ve Öfke, James Joyce'un Ulysses eserlerine olan büyük ilgisi ve o kitapları ilk romanına başladığı dönemlerde tekrardan okuyup büyük faydalarını görmesi; benim de pek sevdiğim Mrs. Dalloway'deki Septimus karakteri ve süregelen anılar boyunca insanın onunla ortak olabildiği noktalar yakalaması.. Evet Latin Amerikanın biriciki, bir gün görüşeceğiz, mutlaka olacak bu; nerede veya nasıl olacağı kimin umrunda?

I would wish to write like Marquez one day. Definitely one of the best books I have ever read. And no analysis needed. So rich, so so strong, so real.

The 6th book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (1927-2014) that I've read. This is supposedly the first volume of this 3-part autobiography. I chose this over his other novels or novella in my to-be-read folder because he just recently died and so I thought I would like to know more about him by reading his autobiography.

I am not sure if there is still the second or the third part of this autobiography. This book, published in 2002, was the last published non-fiction of him. For fiction, it was the novella Memories of My Melancholy Whores (3 stars) which was published in 2004. Now that G. G. Marquez is dead, I have a feeling that his estate will published his works and there could be some manuscripts for the parts 2 and 3 of this autobiography especially because he contacted dementia only in 2012, ten years after the publication of this book.

I am not really bewildered by this book. Reading this is nice if you've read some of his books particularly One Hundred Years of Solitude (5 stars) because it would make you understand some of the actual events mentioned in the book like the Banana Massacre (Columbia, 1928) that caused the death of many banana plantation workers. You would also have a feeling that some of the characters in One Hundred are based on G. G. Marquez's family particularly his mother and her parents (G. G. Marquez's grandparents). That maternal side of his are really fascinating and the superstitions beliefs during that time are similar to the magical realism that seems to be the legacy-contribution of G. G. Marquez in World Literature.

My favorite part of this autobiography is the young G. G. Marquez's attitude that he wanted to become a writer more than anything else in this world. His father wanted him to become a lawyer or a doctor but G. G. Marquez's was steadfast in what he wanted in life and so when he was 25 he boldly declared to everyone that he would become a writer. Similar to the current situation in the Philippines, writing (especially fiction) is not a money-making profession. There are very few exceptions but if you want to get rich, don't take journalism as a college degree unless you want to become a politician someday or you want to die young because the Philippines is one of the countries with high death mortality for journalists. Likewise for creative writing or literature graduates, since most Filipinos do not read books or if they do, they read foreign-authored books, then being a local writer is not a lucrative profession.

With exactly the same situation in Columbia during the 1940's the young G. G. Marquez went against the wishes of his parents and pursued his ambition of become a writer. Look at what he achieved: he put Latin American in the world's literary map. The world practically wept when he died on April 17, 2014. It was Maundy Thursday when I heard about it and the the gloom of remembering the passion and crucifixion of the Lord Jesus Christ was doubled by the sad news of G. G. Marquez's passing.

We will miss you, G. G. Marquez. God speed and say our regards to Jose Saramago!

Please continue, if you can, writing novels in heaven.

this has been, without a doubt, the best autobiography that i have ever read. not only that it offers you an endless amount of details about Marquez himself and the influences that made him become a writer, it is also a fine analysis of the political and economical situation of the XXth century Columbia. Alternating between these two very interesting topics, Marquez makes the writer feel what he felt and see what he saw when he was younger.

his life, like most lives of the biggest writers of our world, has been a roller coaster of emotion, putting him through all sorts of situations and giving him the experience of poverty, pain, loneliness and most importantly for a writer, the experience of vision, of dream. i once saw in an interview that he said : "from the moment i was born, i knew i wanted to be a writer". you can clearly see here how early and abnormally his passion for the written word started and how obsessed he became with the mystery of stories.

the autobiography is written in a very objective manner, and there's a very good reason for that. scattered throughout you can find things that different writers or friends of Marquez said to him, about him. in general, these things imply that he is a phenomenal writer, that his future is set to be bright, a prognosis of an influencial literary life and the conclusion that, no matter how tough things might be for him now (in his twenties), his talent can only be explained by a lucky star that nobody can interfere with, all these told to him before he turned 25 years old. no matter how he ended up changing the cultural face of the XXth century, any young man can be easily influenced by these kinds of premature certainties. i'm sure that Marquez himself found solace in those predictions when times were tough, but his constant work and dedication become that much more worthy of praise. years later, when he wrote this biography, he simply had to be objective. anything more than a simple reminder of those lines would have looked too much like infatuation, ruining an otherwise coldly-written tale.

i feel so sorry that it stopped when he was barely thirty, and now we'll probably never have the next parts of Marquez's story written by himself.

and on top of all that is amazing in this book, there's one more thing that makes this a master's work - it doesn't feel like just a biography. its texture is transcending factual matters and revolves around a world that seems almost as mystical as the one who wrote about it. in that sense, if not in others, this is not just a biography.

i sometimes wonder how it feels to be respected and loved by such an extraordinary man as Marquez was. to be a part of his autobiography is to be a part of this world's greatest literature. the men and women who influenced him might never know how they shaped our world's literary boundaries. only we, the ones who read, will ever be in debt to them.

I bought this novel-like autobiography in 2005 and hoped to finish reading it as soon as possible but, typically, his narration seemed tedious with his famous ‘mystic realism’ to me whenever I read his novels. Therefore, I quit during my rough journey in Chapter 3 (page 156). Then I resumed reading some pages in 2009 and left it at that (page 173) till early this month I decided to finish it and thought I should enjoy reading his prose and dialogs as well as something from him, one of the great writers for the time being, as the winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1982.

Originally written in Spanish, it might take time and patience for some readers in being familiar with this work of fine translation by Dr. Edith Grossman, especially those Spanish words/phrases in italics without their footnotes, for example: liquiliques (p. 107), fotuts del cul (p. 124), colegio (p. 173), etc. It is novel-like due to, I think, at least two reasons; first, Marquez has narrated so lucidly, uniquely and brilliantly that we readers cannot help admiring and loving him, he should have been awarded with more prestigious prizes but how? The Nobel Prize is the pinnacle of all literary prizes in the world. Second, he has masterly written this biography like a novel with lots of dialogs, shorter paragraphs, unexpected incidents, etc. Thus, it is more readable than his two masterpieces I read: One Hundred Years of Solitude, Love in the Time of Cholera. To show you the points I mentioned would be more convenient if you read and see from the following:

Excerpt: 1
…
… Then I felt bold enough to tell him, with some malice, though it had nothing to do with anything, how surprised I had been to see on his table a book that was so difficult to find. His surprise was authentic:
“Which one?”
“The Double.”
He laughed with satisfaction.
“I haven’t finished it yet,” he said. “But it’s one of the strangest things I’ve come across.”
He went no further. He thanked me in every way possible for the bolero and said goodbye with a firm handshake.
It was beginning to grow dark when the train slowed, passed by a shed filled with rusted scrap iron, and anchored at a gloomy dock. I grasped my truck by the handle and dragged it toward the street before the crowd could knock me down. I was almost there when someone shouted:
“Young man! ¡Joven!”
I turned around, as did several young men and others less young who were running along with me, and the insatiable reader passed me and handed me a book without stopping.
“Enjoy it!” he shouted, and disappeared into the crowd.
The book was The Double. I was so stunned I did not realize what had just happened to me. … (p. 199)

Excerpt: 2
…
My mother was crushed by this portrait so contrary to the one they had forged in their solitary dreams.
“Well, I don’t know what we’re going to do,” she said after a lethal silence, “because if we tell all this to your father he’ll die a sudden death. Don’t you realize you’re the pride of the family?”
For them it was simple: since there was no possibility I would be the eminent physician my father could not be because he did not have the money, they dreamed I would at least be a professional in something else.
“Well, I won’t be anything at all,” I concluded. “I refuse to let you force me into being what I don’t want to be or what you would like me to be, much less what the government wants me to be.”
… One day, as if by chance, she made a surprising proposal:
“They say that if you put your mind to it you could be a good writer.”
I had never heard anything like it in the family. …
“If you’re going to be a writer you have to be one of the great ones, and they don’t make them anymore,” I told my mother. “After all, there are better ways to starve to death.”
… (pp. 261-262)

Excerpt: 3
…
“Hello?”
I abandoned the article in the middle of the page because my heart was pounding, and I crossed the avenue to meet her at the Hotel Continental after twelve years without seeing her. … We both must have realized that twelve years were a long time at her age, but we bore it well. I had tried to track her down when I first came to Barranquilla, until I learned that she was living in Panama where her sailor was a pilot on the canal, yet it was not pride but timidity that kept me from bringing up the subject with her.
I believed she had just eaten lunch with someone who had left her alone to wait for my visit. We had three fatal cups of coffee and together smoked half a pack of rough cigarettes, groping for a way to talk without speaking, until she dared to ask me if I ever thought about her. Only then did I tell her the truth: I had never forgotten her, but her goodbye had been so brutal that it changed my way of being. She was more compassionate than I:
“I never forgot that you’re like a son to me.”
… (pp. 514-515)

In brief, this book is worth reading and rereading to the nth time since it would allow you to appreciate how he has penned on his life to the world to read scene by scene till we futilely hope to write just a bit like him. The more we read his works, the more they keep shedding light on his readers in terms of his life dramas (the Tale) that help us understand how he has become one of the great writers in the 20th century and beyond in Latin America and the world.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez é para mim um escritor esquisito, não só ao nível da composição dos seus textos, como sobretudo devido à estranheza das suas histórias.
Prémio Nobel em 1982, Garcia Marquez assentou toda a sua carreira, enquanto escritor, num género que podemos classificar, ou pelo menos eu classifico-o, do realismo-fantástico, género esse povoado de fantasmas, demónios e situações surrealistas que vão sendo misturadas com o mundo real, dando então origem a um universo onírico, algo confuso, que deve ser lido, pensado e analisado com muito cuidado.
Pessoalmente não sou apreciador desse estilo, nem do simples e puro género do fantástico. Amante do Histórico e do realismo puro (Eça de Queirós, Maugham, Dostoiévski, Tolstoi, Vítor Hugo, Zola, Dickens, Jorge Amado e tantos outros), gosto essencialmente de ler sobre temas sociais e humanos e, após a leitura ou durante a mesma, efectuar vastas análises ao que leio e enquadrar aquela realidade na nossa actual sociedade.
No entanto e em relação a Marquez, algo me incomoda. Incomoda-me não entender a sua escrita e incomoda-me haver toda uma legião de fãs em todo o mundo que fazem dele o escritor mais consagrado do nosso tempo, sem que eu entenda esse sucesso. E vai daí, há algum tempo propus-me a entender a sua obra e o contexto da suas histórias.
Lendo por duas (2) vezes “Cem anos de solidão”, lendo também “Relato de um náufrago” e tentando ler o “Outono do Patriarca”, em todas estas situações fiquei sempre desiludido e como uma clara sensação de tempo perdido.
Até que, numa ida à biblioteca, me deparo com este “Viver para contá-la” livro que, alegadamente e segundo o que já havia lido, tratar-se-ia de uma autobiografia. Nada melhor então para ficar a conhecer em definitivo a s suas raízes, filosofias, paixões, gostos e inspirações que lhe moldaram o carácter e directamente o seu estilo de escrita.
”Viver para contá-la” trata-se então de uma autobiografia de Marquez que, sem preconceitos e tabús, narra de uma forma quente, apaixonada e ao mesmo tempo crua, toda a sua vida.
Antes de aprofundar a análise ao livro, há que referir que este trata-se do primeiro volume da sua biografia.
O livro inicia-se já enquanto Marquez estudante de direito em Barranquilla, recebendo a visita da mãe que lhe solicita que a acompanhe no sentido de venderem a casa dos avós em Aracataca, local onde ele nasceu e onde foi criado. É esse encontro o mote para este livro fabuloso, pois não se trata de umas simples memórias de Garcia Marquez.
Desde logo e com as descrições de Aracataca, ficamos com a ideia de onde Marquez foi beber a inspiração para criar “Cem anos de Solidão” e mais fascinados ficamos quando nos apercebemos que a história do livro é, simplesmente, a História da sua própria família. E continua.
Marquez vai desfilando as suas memórias. Memórias povoadas de histórias fantásticas mas reais, o surrealismo é algo que está entranhado nos povos caribenhos e da América do Sul, continente onde há muito circulam histórias e mistérios fantásticos. Quem nunca ouviu falar de Tiahuanaco, Cuzco, Nazca, Macchu Picchu, a perdida cidade do ouro dos Incas, os fantasmas da Jamaica, a misteriosa Ilha da Páscoa e tantos mais?
Pois bem, Marquez dá-nos o retracto daquele povo supersticioso, mas muito apaixonado e respeitoso da sua História e dos seu passado. Um mundo onde e segundo Marquez, “o estranho é não acontecer nada de estranho”
E vai por aí fora.
A sua infância e o modo como era visto e tido pelas pessoas que o rodeavam. As histórias que ia ouvindo pela bocas dos mais velhos, as suas observações e considerações pelo meio que o rodeava. O seu extemporâneo amor à leitura que o leva a ler, muito novo, obras como “As mil e uma noites”, a “Odisseia” de Homero, ”Orlando Furioso”, ”D. Quixote” e o ”Conde de Monte Cristo”, obras que lhe abriram as portas desses vasto e fascinante mundo da literatura e que o acompanharam desde sempre.
Mas Marquez vais mais longe.
Para além de narrar o passado dos seus pais e avós, ele situa, a nível geopolítico e social, a Colômbia no mundo, sobretudo ao nível das turbulências que desde sempre abalaram aquele país do Caribe. Amigo pessoal de figuras públicas, sobretudo figuras colombianas, destacando-se contudo a enorme amizade com Fidel Castro. Mas é curioso as personagens estranhas que marcam a sua vida e que lhe inspiraram a construção de personagens para os seus romances. Desde o coronel que fazia peixinhos de ouro numa velha oficina depois de uma vida de combatente (lembram-se do coronel Aureliano Buendía em “Cem anos de solidão”? Pois foi baseado no próprio avô de Marquez que fazia peixinhos de ouro depois de uma vida de combatente), até à sua tia que comia terra, passando pela tia que um dia lhes surgiu em casa e disse “venho me despedir, pois vou morrer!”, e à sua própria mãe, que com o seu forte carácter, o inspirou a criar a matriarca Úrsula, talvez a figura mais forte de “Cem anos de solidão”.
Em todas estas 579 páginas, Marquez narra tudo isso e muito mais. O seu percurso enquanto ser humano, o seu percurso estudantil e profissional. As obras e escritores que o inspiraram, a forma como estudou a aprendeu a técnica do romance, os mestres que lhe deram força para continuar quando as decepções o invadiam, os seus primeiros contos, enfim, todo um percurso rico em pormenores que finda em 1957 (fim deste volume).
Fico imensamente curioso em relação ao segundo volume, pois será nesse que Marquez narrará como construiu os seus romances, as suas estadias em Paris e no México (local onde escreveu “Cem anos de solidão”, a atribuição do Prémio Nobel e as suas amizades com escritores consagrados, entre os quais o “nosso” José Saramago.
Neste primeiro volume fica assim claro que as obras de Marquez espelham uma realidade que efectivamente é a do seu povo, uma realidade fantástica e sensual, inserida numa cultura secular com tantas tradições.
Quanto a mim, fiquei maravilhado com este livro e com o génio deste homem que, com os seus textos, procurou sempre honrar e homenagear um país e um povo que é o seu.
Talvez este livro tenha sido o mote para mais um fã de Marquez, ainda mais porque achei curioso algumas manias que ele tem que eu também tenho (por exemplo ele adora cheirar os livros novos e eu também). De certeza que vou ler mais uns romances dele, pelo menos agora que entendo o porquê desse estranho universo, Marquez tem agora outra lógica e outro sabor.

تمنيت لو أنني قرأت الكتاب بترجمة صالح علماني.

Un roman autobiografic care merită citit, mai ales de catre cei care i-au devorat capodoperele.

I'm sure people will find it crazy, perhaps even a little blasphemous, that as a writer myself I didn't love Gabriel Garcia Marquez's autobiography. Perhaps I wasn't in the correct frame of mind when reading it; perhaps I need to stick to memoirs and avoid autobiographies; who knows? I found it long and tedious in feel, without much to hold my actual interest. Overall, it seemed to slide toward overarching summaries. The parts I did find myself intersted in were more like scenes, detailed and more present in action. Everything else blended together in a blur of long names(many many MANY long names), changing locations, writing escapades, and various levels of poverty. I believe that I should just stick to his short stories, many of which I really do love.