Love in the Time of Cholera
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Love in the time of Who cares?
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Bennard
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Feb 17, 2012 11:07AM

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Reading books should not be look at its entertaining part only but rather on its contribution to the rich literature of the world. And I find those against in this novel swept by the new generation writers where science fiction is prevalent and classic novels find themselves stuck in stockroom.



I think the magical realism is more developed in..."
well I agree completely... 100 years of solitude was as flamboyant and picturesque compared to the latter. It's progression is slower...But one can't altogether deny that it's a let down book...



One Hundred Years of Solitude is meat, potatoes, vegetables, sauces and spices, dessert, an open bar, and six hits of acid.
Guess whi..."
You said it so well. I loved One Hundred Years, hated the other.






I have yet to read one of Marques books I did not loved. A word of advice, If you want to really understand his books, start by reading his autobiography " Living to tell the tell" or in Spanish, Vivir para contarlo.


Well, I have Love in the Time of Cholera up there as one of the most beautiful and haunting books on the theme of destructively obsessive love I've ever read. An amazing book.
I also happened to think Moby Dick was a tremendous novel too. On the Whiteness of the Whale is one of those chapters of prose that left me practically gasping in awe at the quality of the writing.
Each to their own, I suppose, but I'm a bit shocked frankly at all the people who found no redeeming features in Love in the Time of Cholera. It has a totally deserved reputation, imho.

And I'm similarly shocked that alot of people seem to think Love in the Time of Cholera is an awful book !

Marcelo wrote: "OK, I am going to have to disagree here with the simplification in many comments on these forums dealing with GGM that chalk up certain traits of his writing up to "Latin culture" or "Latin America..."
Social wrote: "I think you missed the point of the book. You have to read it considering the context in which it develops and the impossibility of a love that could have been. It is not so different to many other..."


I'm sorry to see people trashing Moby Dick here, though. I never really expected most people would like Moby Dick, and of course it wasn't a success in its own day either, but for those of us who love Melville it is sad to imagine readers forcing themselves to read the book, yet never finding its enchantment. After reading Moby Dick, I later read a collection of Melville short stories, and came to really appreciate his power, his intensity, and the depth of his thought regarding the human mind and human passions.

Fast forward some years later - now having heard so much about this book and how great it was, by some sickening twist of fate, I ended up going to watch the movie of this in the cinema with my mother. Mistake. Both of us were shocked at first, not having expected it to be so explicit, but later when the shock wore off, we were just bored. The movie was so terrible that I couldn't believe it could have been adapted from the same book.
This time I read the book. I've never been more disappointed or more surprised that some people would call this a classic. I think the world has seen so much happen that society has become exceptionally cynical. A lot of people seem to think that for something to be artistic, it needs to be ugly and cynical and repulsive and sickening...because only that can be "real". I disagree - art can be beautiful too, and a lot of the "real world" is beautiful and nice and endearing.
The beginning and middle of this book along with the protagonists just repulsed me so much that I couldn't enjoy the ending. I just disagree with it. I guess to each their own. I just think reading should be an enjoyable experience...no amount of well-written prose or beautiful imagery can compensate for a book you just can't enjoy.

I love Moby Dick it's by far one of my favorite books of all time. I think the best part of Love in the time of Cholera for me was this passage “Olimpia Zuleta had the joyous love of a startled pigeon fancier, and she preferred to remain naked for several hours in a slow-moving response that was for her, as loving a love itself. The cabin was dismantled, half painted, and they would take the odor of turpentine away with them in the memory of a happy afternoon. In a sudden inspiration, Florentino Ariza opened a can of red paint that was within reach of the bunk, wet his index finger, and painted the pubis of the pigeon fancier with an arrow of blood pointing south, and on her belly the words: This pussy is mine. That night, Olimpia Zuleta undressed in front of her husband, having forgotten what was scrawled there, and he did not say a word, his breathing did not even change, nothing, but he went into the bathroom for his razor while she was putting on her nightgown, and in a single slash cut her throat.”




I loved this book, but I had already read 100 Years of Solitude, so I had a sense of what to expect. Like many Latin American and Spanish writers, Garcia Marquez requires a greater commitment on the part of the reader than most of us are prepared to offer: the book is slow going, because the story is one that spans an entire lifetime, and the author makes few concessions to our short attention spans...

Dave wrote: "I loved this book, but I had already read 100 Years of Solitude, so I had a sense of what to expect. Like many Latin American and Spanish writers, Garcia Marquez requires a greater commitment on th..."

It's not just a question of commitment. I have a lot of patience for a slow pace when I feel the book is worth it.
But for me the commitment I put into finishing this book was wasted. I'm only glad it was a library book and I hadn't wasted my money as well.
Different readers require different things from their reading.
I need an emotional connection and to find something admirable even in the most flawed main protagonist. For me all the main characters in the novel were unrelentingly vile or weak and petty.
The elegant writing was not enough of a compensation.
For another reader whose main requirement is beautiful prose I can see that this book would satisfy even enchant.
It's not a matter of commitment but of personal preference.




That same bug got me!

Thanks for this thoughtful analysis.






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