So I just finished reading Love In The Time Of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez which took me more than a week to read.
A mean the book just went on and on and simply refused to end plus it didn’t help that I had to juggle my exams with LagosPhoto Festival.(More on that soon).Yes, I’m one of those people that read novels during exams and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
Let me just add that this is one of the profound books I’ve read in recent times and I’ve read quite a lot.
It one of those books that I love to read from time to time to increase my vocabulary. If I had to check a dictionary for very new word I came across, I probably wouldn’t have been done by now. Notwithstanding, I allowed myself to wallow in the sea of novelty.
First things first,
I want to be like Gabriel when I grow up! Whattttt!!! That was sheer brilliance! The descriptions, narratives, language…. and he managed to do so with little or no dialogue. I kept waiting for some conversation which eventually popped up on few occasions but it wasn’t enough. He took me on an intriguing and unconventional journey through the minds of the different characters and portrayed them excellently.His storytelling was simply top notch. At the end of the book, I got to know that he is a Nobel Prize winner for literature which of course explains a lot. At some point I thought the plot was confusing but I later realized that it was mostly due to various distractions. I got somewhat bored, trying to reconnect on several occasions. Eventually I just went with the flow and didn’t bother with comprehension and whatnot.
The next issue of concern is the plot. I thought it was rather unrealistic and exaggerated. Then again, it is fiction. There are no rules or unwritten laws somewhere (or are there?) that sets limitations of any kind. An author has the liberty to come up with whatsoever he pleases as long as it’s worth reading.
Baring in mind the timing and location of the novel, I don’t think I can actually fault it especially since I barely have any knowledge prior to now.
As a hopeless romantic like myself, the dominant theme of love and romance appealed to me in more ways than one. It actually made me think.
To what extent can I go for love?
I kept asking myself this question with the hope that I would get some reassuring answer but I came up to a dead end because I simply didn’t know. And I’m being honest here. I have not exactly been lucky in the past but I like to think I have an idea of what I want, what I’m capable of giving and receiving and somehow for now that’s enough.
As always, I don’t like to think too much about this things because often times, said thoughts lead to endless anxiety (read depression) which I really do not need right now. So I’m just gonna keep doing my thing until love decides to pay me a visit. And when It does I’m hoping I can love as hard and strong as Florentino Ariza because really life’s too short. Everyone should have a shot at a storybook kind of love like this one.
Next up (and I mean after a few other reads) is One Hundred Years Of Solitude by the same author. I hope it’s as pleasant as this one. There a level of deepness I can take at a time especially in succession.(First Gone Girl, now this? I think I need a break)
Meanwhile, happy new month folks! Can you believe it’s December next month? I certainly can not. In my head, we’re still in August. 😐