100 Years of Solitude

[Anonymous No.23289339]

>ANY YEARS LATER as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano
Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to
discover ice. At that time Macondo was a village of twenty adobe houses, built on
the bank of a river of clear water that ran along a bed of polished stones, which
were white and enormous, like prehistoric eggs. The world was so recent that
many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to
point. Every year during the month of March a family of ragged gypsies would set
up their tents near the village, and with a great uproar of pipes and kettledrums
they would display new inventions. First they brought the magnet. A heavy gypsy
with an untamed beard and sparrow hands, w ho introduced himself as
Melquíades, put on a bold public demonstration of what he himself called the
eighth wonder of the learned alchemists of Macedonia. He went from house to
house dragging two metal ingots and everybody was amazed to see pots, pans,
tongs, and braziers tumble down from their places and beams creak from the
desperation of nails and screws trying to emerge, and even objects that had been
lost for a long time appeared from where they had been searched for most and
went dragging along in turbulent confusion behind Melquíades’ magical irons.
“Things have a life of their own,” the gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. “It’s
simply a matter of waking up their souls.” José Arcadio Buendía, w hose
unbridled imagination always went beyond the genius of nature and even beyond
miracles and magic, thought that it would be possible to make use of that useless
invention to extract gold from the bowels of the earth. Melquíades, who was an
honest man, warned him: “It won’t work for that.” But José Arcadio Buendía at
that time did not believe in the honesty of gypsies, so he traded his mule and a
pair of goats for the two magnetized ingots.

Just had a look at this board's top ranked novels and noticed that Gabriel Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude isn't there.

This book is crack. Takes you through the development of a town from its founding well into the modern age. Magical elements come off as mundane. It gets a bit sad and dull during the war arcs, but it picks up again when the steam engines roll up. Tons of history in this book, tons of characters, and you get to see it all in beautiful layers of story.

[Anonymous No.23289341]

RIP, sorry formatting sucks. First post ;/

[Anonymous No.23289345]

>>23289339
>Just had a look at this board's top ranked novels and noticed that Gabriel Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude isn't there.
It's in the last annual top 100. One of the most famous novels that exist. This OP is unnecessary.

[Anonymous No.23289347]

>MANY YEARS LATER as he faced the firing squad. Colonel Aureliano Buendfa was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. At that time Macondo was a village of twenty adobe houses, built on the bank of a river of clear water that ran along a bed of polished stones, which were white and enormous, like prehistoric eggs. The world was so recent that many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point. Every year during the month of March a family of ragged gypsies would set up their tents near the village, and with a great uproar of pipes and kettledrums they would display new inventions. First they brought the magnet. A heavy gypsy with an untamed beard and sparrow hands, who introduced himself as Melquiades, put on a bold public demonstration of what he himself called the eighth wonder of the learned al¬ chemists of Macedonia. He went from house to house dragging two metal ingots and everybody was amazed to see pots, pans, tongs, and braziers tumble down from their places and beams creak from the desperation of nails and screws trying to emerge, and even objects that had been lost for a long time appeared from where they had been searched for most and went dragging along in turbulent confusion behind Melquiades’ magical irons. “Things have a life of their own,” the gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. “It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls.” Jose Arcadio Buendia, whose unbridled imagination always went beyond the genius of nature and even beyond miracles and magic, thought that it would be possible to make use of that useless invention to extract gold from the bowels of the earth. Melquiades, who was an honest man, warned him: “It won’t work for that.” But Jose Arcadio Buendia at that time did not believe in the honesty of gypsies, so he traded Iris mule and a pair of goats for the two magnetized ingots. Ursula Iguaran, his wife, who relied on those animals to increase their poor domestic holdings, was unable to dissuade him. “Very soon well have gold enough and more to pave the floors of the house,” her husband replied. For several months he worked hard to demonstrate the truth of his idea. He explored every inch of the region, even the riverbed, dragging the two iron ingots along and reciting Melquiades’ incantation aloud. The only thing he succeeded in doing was to unearth a suit of fifteenth-century armor which had all of its pieces soldered together with rust and inside of which there was the hollow resonance of an enormous stone-filled gourd. When Jose Arcadio Buendia and the four men of his expedition managed to take the armor apart, they found inside a calcified skeleton with a copper locket containing a woman’s hair around its neck.

[Anonymous No.23289357]

>>23289339
>here's that underrated indie gem One Hundred Years of Solitude, very obscure

[Anonymous No.23289406]

>>23289339
It's #23 in the last top 100

[Anonymous No.23290030]

>>23289339
Borges > Garcia Marquez

[Anonymous No.23290150]

>>23289339
non-latinos will NEVER fully understand this

[Anonymous No.23290742]

>>23290150
didn't marquez himself say that the english translation was even more beautiful than the original?
ESLs will NEVER fully understand this....