I thought, 'This is writing. It is cooking, painting, composing, gardening, architecting, weaving and sculpting all at once. It is the Big Bang. Except that you don't have to wait millions of years for the light to reach you. It is immediate. Visceral. Delicious. Unforgettable.
But it was Marquez's books about love that had the biggest impact on me. Love in the Time of Cholera, a story about an aging man's lifelong love for a woman who had rejected him when he was young, told of a kind of love rarely read (or written) about anymore. Romantic. Sentimental, oozing with joy, sorrow, pain...with, well, love!
And Memories of My Melancholy Whores, about another old man's late life yearnings, peeled away the sorrows, joys, pleasures and sadnesses of aging - the skin and body crumbling, but desire and imagination living until one's last breadth.
Marquez was called a Magic Realist. Yes. Like life. Real. And magical. It is not possible to write like he did without having had the capacity to live it fully.
How cruel that he had developed dementia. My mother had Alzheimer's and there were many times when I thought that she was simply living in her own world, one that I had been excluded from entirely.
Not so dissimilar from what it feels like to me to read Marquez. Lost within my own little world, a whirlwind of expression, free-flowing, emotional, imaginative, free-spirited and free-associative. A world of real magic.
Hard to believe there won't be another gem of a book from this brilliant man. I can only hope that wherever his soul has been spirited off to, that world is as magical as the one he has given us.
RIP Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
#GabrielGarciaMarquez #LoveIntheTimeofCholera #OneHundredYearsofSolitude #MemoriesofMyMelancholyWhores
No, my mother was no my only major influence. She was but not in the way that is typically expected when one refers to a "major influence." I had the benefit of knowing many talented women (my mother's friends) when I was growing up, so there were several, most of them artists.
As for stability, I would say that I am not sure there really is any such thing. We strive for it, that's for sure, but often once we get it, it slips through our fingers and becomes something else. But I can say I never did anything in my life in order that it should be the opposite of my mother. Rather, I always strived to discover who I was.
Just to get back to the story of Gabriel Garcia-Marquez for a moment...while there were many writers he admired, he tried not to be like anyone else. He tried to find his own road and to commit to it. I can relate to that completely.
As for philosophy, I can speak to that more fully...it just seemed to me that everyone really needs to be one in order to get through life. That and a psychologist. Okay...and maybe know more than a little something about the law. I think life IS philosophical. In every conceivable way.
And what it adds to life is a life long love of asking questions, which many professions teach their practitioners not to do. Much of adult life is about professing to have all the answers all the time. Sort of stops growth, IMHO...and contributes in great part to control issues. Not life prolonging if you ask me.
As for philosophical sect that represents my life? None. Absolutely none. I'm more than a little anti-sect. More than a little anti-group thought. The history of philosophy itself is fascinating...watching all these great thinkers figure things out and ask questions era by era, century by century, culture by culture, country by country. But cleaving unto any one is sort of like being put in thought prison...
To get back to Garcia-Marquez...had he subscribed to (rather than created, really) a way of writing, he wouldn't have been the writer that he was. I think that artists, as opposed to philosophers, create anew. They are influenced by the past and by others, but the goal is always to create something new. So maybe I would say that while one has to be philosophical in life...approaching it from an artistic point of view is much more interesting to me.