I finished reading “Memories of My Melancholy Whores” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez this morning on the way to work. At only 115 pages, the novella was an easy read. I rushed its reading in some parts, losing the plot somewhat, but c’est la vie. I remember reading Marquez’s “One Hundreds Years of Solitude” back when I was still in college and how moved I was to read that so many years had past and so many characters had died and been born only to be part of a great circle of events. Time went by, people’s names had changed, but they acted just as their ancestors did. How lonely the novel felt in its presence. I can still remember getting up from my twin bed at my family’s house and putting the book down. It weighed heavily in my hand. I had rushed through it and a somber feeling passed over me. After all the living, dying, struggling, fighting, and loving, the circle of life kept going on—without learning from the past.
I did not ready any of Gabriel Garcia’s Marquez’s books for some time until a few years ago. A coworker had suggested that I read Love in the Time of Cholera
. I truly enjoyed the book. It was one of those books that I just became a piece of me. An emotional response awoke inside and I identified with the book on a personal level. It was not the environment or the characters that I took to but the expression and longings of love that I could relate to. An immensely powerful book.
“Memories of My Melancholy Whores” is a simplistic book on the surface: A old man turning 90 years old wishes to sleep with a virgin before he dies. He’s paid for prostitutes for his whole life and in the course of 115 pages he falls deeply in love for a young girl of 14. What I found touching about the book is the man’s longing for touch, compassion, and love. He’s not looking for sex, but for love. And although the story sounds perverted (a 14 year old with a 90 year old man), the process of his falling in love with a young girl appears to me to be symbolic of his maturing into love for womanhood. He falls in love with the ideal of love, longing to be caught up in the woe/angst of the emotion. His whole life is filled with responsibility, unattachments, and carefully selected and divided portions of his life through which he can control what he experiences. But when he allows himself to open and love, his world turns upside down and for the first time in his life he allows himself to let go and love. As strange as the premise of the story is, anyone who has longed to be with another or missed the touch of another will be able to relate with the real hurt of the old man’s longing. And the message: That no matter how old you are, it is not too late to love, it a powerful message. Of course our Western sensitivities are worried about the young girl being only 14 years of age, but I took the novella to be more of an allegory. I didn’t take the book so literally but rather a message of love. Love before you die because then it’ll be too late. Very true.
In other news, I spoke with the editor of a Magic magazine today and am hoping that my article will be published in the near future. The most recent issue filled up too quickly and an advertisement took the spot on which my article would have appeared. Will my article be published? We shall see. I sure hope so.
Not much else to talk about. It’s been a long day. Take care.
I did not ready any of Gabriel Garcia’s Marquez’s books for some time until a few years ago. A coworker had suggested that I read Love in the Time of Cholera
. I truly enjoyed the book. It was one of those books that I just became a piece of me. An emotional response awoke inside and I identified with the book on a personal level. It was not the environment or the characters that I took to but the expression and longings of love that I could relate to. An immensely powerful book.
“Memories of My Melancholy Whores” is a simplistic book on the surface: A old man turning 90 years old wishes to sleep with a virgin before he dies. He’s paid for prostitutes for his whole life and in the course of 115 pages he falls deeply in love for a young girl of 14. What I found touching about the book is the man’s longing for touch, compassion, and love. He’s not looking for sex, but for love. And although the story sounds perverted (a 14 year old with a 90 year old man), the process of his falling in love with a young girl appears to me to be symbolic of his maturing into love for womanhood. He falls in love with the ideal of love, longing to be caught up in the woe/angst of the emotion. His whole life is filled with responsibility, unattachments, and carefully selected and divided portions of his life through which he can control what he experiences. But when he allows himself to open and love, his world turns upside down and for the first time in his life he allows himself to let go and love. As strange as the premise of the story is, anyone who has longed to be with another or missed the touch of another will be able to relate with the real hurt of the old man’s longing. And the message: That no matter how old you are, it is not too late to love, it a powerful message. Of course our Western sensitivities are worried about the young girl being only 14 years of age, but I took the novella to be more of an allegory. I didn’t take the book so literally but rather a message of love. Love before you die because then it’ll be too late. Very true.
In other news, I spoke with the editor of a Magic magazine today and am hoping that my article will be published in the near future. The most recent issue filled up too quickly and an advertisement took the spot on which my article would have appeared. Will my article be published? We shall see. I sure hope so.
Not much else to talk about. It’s been a long day. Take care.
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