Magic realism

Finished reading "One Hundred Years of Solitude" by Gabriel García Márquez a couple of days ago. What an amazing story. Wow. When I finished reading it I think I must have sat there with the closed book in my hand staring at it with a ridiculous beatific grin on my face for at least 30 minutes remembering all the characters I'd met and the beautiful way I'd been whisked through their world. It was the most content I think I've felt since I last ingested mescaline :)

Some favourite quotes:

"She went out into the street on one occasion, when she was very old, with shoes the colour of old silver and a hat made of tiny flowers, during the time that the Wandering Jew passed through town and brought on a heat wave that was so intense that birds broke through window screens to come to die in the bedrooms."

"The letters looked like clothes hung out to dry on a line and they looked more like musical notation than writing."

"A short time later, when the carpenter was taking measurements for the coffin, through the window they saw a light rain of tiny yellow flowers falling. They fell on the town all through the night in a silent storm, and they covered the roofs and blocked the doors and smothered the animals who slept outdoors."

Solitude is obviously a central theme, and I'm not going to launch into a review of the book because I wouldn't do it justice in my current hung-over state, but it's a beautiful theme. Very "human". The whole story is incredibly moving and enchanting. One of the best books I've ever read.