Four Hundred and Seventeen Pages of Eloquence

I have just started reading Gabriel García Márquez’s novel One Hundred Years of Solitude, and I was shocked to find myself hooked from the first page. While most books start off slow, One Hundred Years of Solitude immediately delved into a fascinating world of gypsies, magic, crazy scientists, and a mysterious mention of a Colonel in front of a firing squad. Márquez succeeded in grabbing my attention from the first line.

What I love most about Márquez’s work is the beautiful language. I have always been a fan of Spanish and how lyrical the structure sounds; One Hundred Years of Solitude, having been translated from Spanish, has the same lyrical quality that I love. I barely had to reach the second page to discover a quote I loved, “Things have a life of their own…. It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls” (2). Marquez’s language is so elegant that he can even make Buendía and his men’s trek through a gloomy forest in despair sound beautiful.

The first character to grab my attention was Úrsula, Buendía’s wife. I was amazed at how supportive she remained despite her husband’s crazy actions. While Buendía founded the town of Macondo and successfully built each house with such precision that “no house got more sun than another during the hot time of day” (9), he later lost all his work ethic to his fascination with gypsy magic. Buendía wastes the money Úrsula’s Father’s had saved for his daughter, first to buy gypsy items and later to melt in a concoction rumored to double the amount. No matter how many times he fails or how much he hurts his wife with his actions, however, she stays by him. Though she loses her temper when he tries to tell his children that the world is flat, she continues to work in the gardens to support her family while her husband chases his fantasies about magic. I was most impressed with Úrsula when Buendía returned from his journey to find a route to civilization and decided to move. She was calm and collected as he made his preparations and packed his items, then chose the opportune moment to ask him hat he had up his sleeve. She refused to be moved by his tales of a better life, knowing that Macondo was the place she would raise her children and live out her days. Úrsula stays admirably strong in the face of her husband, carefully choosing her words to remind Buendía of all that he has been missing while so fascinated with his Gypsy magic. He finally realizes what he has done to his family, “contemplating the children until his eyes became moist” (14). Úrsula impressed me immensely with her ability to fill her husband’s head with reason after so many years of irrationality. She is a very strong woman.

While the lineage of the story is very hard to follow, considering the characters have the same names, I find myself fascinated rather than annoyed. Each time a new character is encountered, he or she raises a new mystery, a need to find out how he or she is tied into the grand scheme of things. Why is Colonel Aureliano Buendía standing before a firing squad? When does he come upon the Spanish galleon that his father found in the forest? How is each character a piece of the puzzle that makes up the rise and fall of Macondo? I admit, I am not terribly far into the book yet, but this was intentional. I don’t have the time to read as much as I would like to, and these past few busy weeks have been no exception. I have been saving this book to read this weekend, lying in the sun and dreaming about Márquez’s magical world. So far, I am extremely intrigued by One Hundred Years of Solitude and cannot wait to piece together the fantastic puzzle such an eloquent writer has created. (660)