Can you feel the love… in this?
I’ve been reading Love in the Time of Cholera these past few weeks, and I am finally in the middle. I bought it not really knowing Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s writing style; the only thing I’d read of his prior to reading the said novel was his speech for the Nobel Prize.
Normally I’m a fast reader. But lately, I haven’t been. I don’t know if my watching too much has affected my interest to read, but what I do know is that the love story in Marquez’s novel is not touching enough.
At least, so far.
I mean, I’m not feeling it at all. It’s not romantic.
A boy and a girl meet for the first time and instantly like each other. They correspond through letters and hardly have real conversations. While she is writing to him in class, a teacher discovers she is not taking notes, but writing a love letter. She gets expelled. The girl’s father finds out about the boy, he reprimands her and takes her on vacation with him so she’ll forget. As usual, she does not forget him; the boy works in a telegraph office, and he learns of the girl’s location. They continue to write to each other. After around three years, the girl and the father go back to where they came from, and the boy sees the girl again in the market. When he gets near, he whispers to her. The girl turns to look at him and realizes that what they had was an illusion.
After a while, the girl catches the attention of a doctor who is one of the most respected people in the town. She is hesitant, but they get married, and this hurts the guy. He spends years agonizing, spending time with other girls but never really moving on.
Half a century later, the doctor dies; the girl becomes a widow. The guy visits her and tells her he still loves her.
Seriously, there’s really nothing to it. Maybe back then (and in Mexico), love letters were everything. But it seems so shallow. They hardly really know each other, and yet the guy is so dramatic and convinced he deserves the girl.
And what about the girl? Well, she’s stupid too. What kind of a girl gets kicked out of school and sent to some faraway place with her father for three whole years because of some guy, and comes back to tell this guy that it was all an illusion? Sure, it’s hard to really identify what we’re feeling, but come on! Cut the guy some slack. She should have rejected him in the first place. (That’s a laugh though–I am one to talk about rejecting people). Or at least, totally forgotten him in the years she spent with some cattle and pigs (’cause she went someplace rural).
I am a romantic, but honestly, I don’t feel the love in Love in the Time of Cholera. And that makes it hard to finish the book. I can’t feel what Florentino Ariza is hurting over, because it all seems so shallow.
I was much more touched with books like Atonement and Eleven Minutes (I’m serious). Technically, Marquez is a good writer: very descriptive and knowledgeable. But his plot sucks. At least for this book. And at least for the part I’ve perused.
If the ending throws me off, then he’s good. Really good. But if my summary up there proves to be all there is to this story, then I don’t think there’s anything marvelous about Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s little novel. And I’m sorry for that, because I really thought it was something.
But since I’m not through with the novel, I can’t judge it once and for all. I’ll write a follow-up for this entry. Once I’m done with it.
I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
