In many ways, Gabriel Garcia Marquez rewrote the Bible. Harold Bloom called One Hundred Years of Solitude "The Bible of Macondo," which is the city in which the book takes place.
It's got a lot in common with The Good Book. It opens on Macondo's creation, where chaos rules and not everything even has a name yet. The book ends in a whirlwind of apocalypse in which everything falls into pieces. Between these bookend events are characters who live for hundreds of years, family histories, and a lot of stuff that doesn't make much narrative sense. Yep, sounds like the Bible to me. Too broad and ambitious to simply call it a story.
This is one of the things that is so difficult about OHYOS: the book covers so much time and five generations of a family, so I never felt really connected to any of them. They were certainly fascinating, however, especially considering how they changed over time. Take, for instance, Colonel Aureliano Buendia, who started the book as an artistic little boy who crafted little fishes out of gold. In the middle, he takes charge of a rebel force fighting against the conservative government. In the end, after living a life as a ruthless warrior, he dies sad and alone of old age. This is life as written by Marquez: it's filled with wonders and changes, but it ends for everyone in the same way.
Life in the Buendia family is cyclical; events repeat themselves. The couple who begin the book starting a family fear the repercussions of incest, and incest pops up generation after generation. At first glance, this seems like a strange motif to have resurface over and over again in the book, but it makes sense after reflection. Incest further establishes the solitude of the family, keeping them from intermingling with others. More than anything, this is the major theme of the book, as the title suggests. The Buendia family is isolated from the rest of the town - they are constantly marrying within the family and the entire family lives in one big house. The town of Macondo, too, is isolated from the rest of the world. A rough and primitive place, it falls into conflict when an authoritarian government takes over, and life is further disrupted when a train rolls into town bringing along with it modern technology.
It's hard to write about this book in an organized way because the book is simply too big. I don't mean that it's big physically. I've read longer books. It's big thematically. There are dozens of themes I could write about here. For instance, fatalism is apparently something Marquez thought an awful lot about. Characters are often introduced by saying "He would think of this moment when he stood before a firing squad later in life." It's laid out for the reader already how life will end for this character. As the book concludes, prophecies become important as characters begin to see that their future has already been predicted.
See? There I go. I can't casually write about everything this book makes me contemplate. It would take way too long. To sum up my thoughts on OHYOS in an organized and detailed way, I'm afraid I'd have to write a 20 page essay, and I just did not enjoy it enough to spend my free time doing that. It's not that I didn't like the book; if a teacher made me write a paper about it, I'd be excited to do so. However, I have other things to do right now that are more important than writing recreational literary analysis**. I would love to talk about it, though. I think a novel this meandering would be more appropriate for conversation than composition anyway. Who's read it? Let's chat!
**More important things include reading Moby Dick. I'm through about forty pages and completely sucked in. It opens with Ishmael telling us that he sometimes feels the need to abandon society and take to the sea, the "watery part of the world." Did Melville travel to the future and read my previous post?
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Yawping
Still gathering my thoughts on Marquez, so I thought I'd share my thoughts on a conversation I had with Mary recently.
For some reason, I began musing yesterday about what sort of a tattoo I would get if I ever felt the desire to get one. Let me make clear that I will never get a tattoo. I change my mind far too often, and I can just see myself regretfully trying to wash one off with water as I used to be able to do with my childhood tats from cereal boxes. That being said, were I the type of person to get ink, what would it be? My first instinct was something nautical themed, like a boat or an anchor or something. I'm drawn to that classic romantic calling of the sea (even though I've never been on a ship on the ocean...). That may make me feel a bit like Popeye, though, and not in a good way.
I decided that I would most likely get a quote tattooed on me, probably from a poem (Mary said that this would be an acceptable choice in the alternate reality where I took my spendin' money over to Trader Bob's). After thinking about Tennyson and Dylan Thomas, I decided that I would most like to have something by Whitman etched into me, probably this quote:
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world.
It's from "Song of Myself" and was made famous in THIS clip from Dead Poet's Society, a movie I never liked much. It is, by the way, completely my fifth grade teacher's fault that I do not care for this movie, as she is the woman who almost ruined poetry for me. I know it's not the Hipster Way, but this bit of poetry would be my choice even though it is popular and well known. It is everything I love about Whitman, how he is somehow able to be inspiring while still feeling very familiar and rough.
However, I'm not sure I fit this quote. It's either a line for a tough guy or a rebel, and I don't think I'm either of these things. Spending my time reading or playing board games with my friends, I often feel very much tamed. Were I in a position to sound something over the roofs of the world, I'm not sure I could find my yawp. This poem makes me want to run off and do crazy things, just drop everything and see the world. If this were branded onto me, I would not be able to keep my cozy little job. I'd make a dash for the coast and jump aboard a ship bound for the horizon!
Of course, if I were the type of person who would get a tattoo, maybe I'd be a more barbaric chap. Instead, I am who I am. Instead of wishing I were more untranslatable, I should be content with celebrating and singing myself.
PS Speaking of Whitman, this is the current front-runner for the epitaph on my tombstone:
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
PPS Did you know Rip Torn starred in a movie as Whitman? Check it out!
PPPS Speaking of the lure of the ocean, Moby Dick is calling to me from the coffee table ... Daring me to crack it open ... See? A big adventure for me is reading a book about being out at sea.
For some reason, I began musing yesterday about what sort of a tattoo I would get if I ever felt the desire to get one. Let me make clear that I will never get a tattoo. I change my mind far too often, and I can just see myself regretfully trying to wash one off with water as I used to be able to do with my childhood tats from cereal boxes. That being said, were I the type of person to get ink, what would it be? My first instinct was something nautical themed, like a boat or an anchor or something. I'm drawn to that classic romantic calling of the sea (even though I've never been on a ship on the ocean...). That may make me feel a bit like Popeye, though, and not in a good way.
I decided that I would most likely get a quote tattooed on me, probably from a poem (Mary said that this would be an acceptable choice in the alternate reality where I took my spendin' money over to Trader Bob's). After thinking about Tennyson and Dylan Thomas, I decided that I would most like to have something by Whitman etched into me, probably this quote:
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world.
It's from "Song of Myself" and was made famous in THIS clip from Dead Poet's Society, a movie I never liked much. It is, by the way, completely my fifth grade teacher's fault that I do not care for this movie, as she is the woman who almost ruined poetry for me. I know it's not the Hipster Way, but this bit of poetry would be my choice even though it is popular and well known. It is everything I love about Whitman, how he is somehow able to be inspiring while still feeling very familiar and rough.
However, I'm not sure I fit this quote. It's either a line for a tough guy or a rebel, and I don't think I'm either of these things. Spending my time reading or playing board games with my friends, I often feel very much tamed. Were I in a position to sound something over the roofs of the world, I'm not sure I could find my yawp. This poem makes me want to run off and do crazy things, just drop everything and see the world. If this were branded onto me, I would not be able to keep my cozy little job. I'd make a dash for the coast and jump aboard a ship bound for the horizon!
Of course, if I were the type of person who would get a tattoo, maybe I'd be a more barbaric chap. Instead, I am who I am. Instead of wishing I were more untranslatable, I should be content with celebrating and singing myself.
PS Speaking of Whitman, this is the current front-runner for the epitaph on my tombstone:
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
PPS Did you know Rip Torn starred in a movie as Whitman? Check it out!
PPPS Speaking of the lure of the ocean, Moby Dick is calling to me from the coffee table ... Daring me to crack it open ... See? A big adventure for me is reading a book about being out at sea.
Monday, May 3, 2010
One Hundred Years of Solitude: Favorite Passages
I finished One Hundred Years of Solitude the other day. It was a slow, complex, and ultimately tragic book, but I found it enjoyable and certainly fulfilling. It's an epic unlike any that I have ever read. I intend to write a post about my general feelings and contemplations on the book as a whole, but I really feel the need to do some more reflecting on it now that it's over. In the meantime, I want to point out some favorite passages of mine from the second half of the book. Some are touching, others are just plain fun.
"He soon acquired the forlorn look one sees in vegetarians."
This quote makes me think of Aaron, who recommended this book to me. As a vegan, I wonder how he feels about this. If I ever became vegetarian, this is how I would look at a 4th of July barbecue when faced with the forbidden bratwurst.
"On awakening each one had the juice of forty oranges, eight quarts of coffee, and thirty raw eggs. On the second morning, after many hours without sleep and having put away two pigs, a bunch of bananas, and thirty cases of champagne . . ."
In this scene, a gluttonous character gets in an eating contest with a giant woman named The Elephant, obviously. I grinned madly reading the hyperbolic description of their battle of appetites. People are still fascinated with this sort of thing; just look at the various competitions restaurants around the city have for their customers: Eat a giant pizza or so much ice cream that you'll puke! I've never had the balls to take one of those establishments up on the challenge, but this passage inspires me to do so when I feel the desire to die young.
"He saw a woman dressed in gold sitting on the head of an elephant. He saw a sad dromedary. He saw a bear dressed as a dutch girl keeping time to the music with a soup spoon and a pan. He saw the clowns doing cartwheels at the end of the parade and once more he saw the face of his miserable solitude . . ."
Just before one character dies after living a miserable and lonely life, he walks out to the street for the first time in years to watch the circus pass. It was a passage filled with poignancy and wonder. One of the many death scenes Marquez handles beautifully. Another character actually ascends body and soul into heaven, Jesus style.
"The air was so damp that fish could have come in through the doors and swum out through the windows, floating through the atmosphere in the rooms."
Here, because of a complex mishap with a banana company, it rains in the town where the book is set for years. How wet does that make the place? Wet enough for fish to swim in the air. Surreal.
"They enjoyed the miracle of loving each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn out old people they kept on blooming like little children and playing together like dogs."
This is just a heartwarming story of a man and his concubine. One of the very few relationships in the entire book that is actually sweet and genuine. The description here is exactly how I see Mary and I (except for the part about them being old and about one of them being a concubine...).
"What do you expect? Time passes."
This could very well be the motto of the book, as one hundred years passes. Five generations of the family pass between the book's opening and thundering conclusion. Characters move from carefree childhood to an old age full of pain and solitude. It brings the book full of fantasy into the harsh realities of mortality and the dark moments life inevitably holds for us all.
While it is hard and largely bleak, there was a lot to enjoy, especially when it comes to Marquez's writing style. Certainly a nice change of pace.
Up Next: Thoughts on themes and characters in Marquez and the start of the next book in my journey: MOBY DICK!!!!
"He soon acquired the forlorn look one sees in vegetarians."
This quote makes me think of Aaron, who recommended this book to me. As a vegan, I wonder how he feels about this. If I ever became vegetarian, this is how I would look at a 4th of July barbecue when faced with the forbidden bratwurst.
"On awakening each one had the juice of forty oranges, eight quarts of coffee, and thirty raw eggs. On the second morning, after many hours without sleep and having put away two pigs, a bunch of bananas, and thirty cases of champagne . . ."
In this scene, a gluttonous character gets in an eating contest with a giant woman named The Elephant, obviously. I grinned madly reading the hyperbolic description of their battle of appetites. People are still fascinated with this sort of thing; just look at the various competitions restaurants around the city have for their customers: Eat a giant pizza or so much ice cream that you'll puke! I've never had the balls to take one of those establishments up on the challenge, but this passage inspires me to do so when I feel the desire to die young.
"He saw a woman dressed in gold sitting on the head of an elephant. He saw a sad dromedary. He saw a bear dressed as a dutch girl keeping time to the music with a soup spoon and a pan. He saw the clowns doing cartwheels at the end of the parade and once more he saw the face of his miserable solitude . . ."
Just before one character dies after living a miserable and lonely life, he walks out to the street for the first time in years to watch the circus pass. It was a passage filled with poignancy and wonder. One of the many death scenes Marquez handles beautifully. Another character actually ascends body and soul into heaven, Jesus style.
"The air was so damp that fish could have come in through the doors and swum out through the windows, floating through the atmosphere in the rooms."
Here, because of a complex mishap with a banana company, it rains in the town where the book is set for years. How wet does that make the place? Wet enough for fish to swim in the air. Surreal.
"They enjoyed the miracle of loving each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn out old people they kept on blooming like little children and playing together like dogs."
This is just a heartwarming story of a man and his concubine. One of the very few relationships in the entire book that is actually sweet and genuine. The description here is exactly how I see Mary and I (except for the part about them being old and about one of them being a concubine...).
"What do you expect? Time passes."
This could very well be the motto of the book, as one hundred years passes. Five generations of the family pass between the book's opening and thundering conclusion. Characters move from carefree childhood to an old age full of pain and solitude. It brings the book full of fantasy into the harsh realities of mortality and the dark moments life inevitably holds for us all.
While it is hard and largely bleak, there was a lot to enjoy, especially when it comes to Marquez's writing style. Certainly a nice change of pace.
Up Next: Thoughts on themes and characters in Marquez and the start of the next book in my journey: MOBY DICK!!!!
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