Vivir para contarla (Living to Tell the Tale)

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Overview

Gabriel Garcia Marquez was born in Colombia in 1927. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in literature in 1982. He lives in Mexico City.

Author biography from the book:

Gabriel García Márquez nació en Colombia en 1928. Le concedieron el Premio Nobel de Literatura en 1982. García Márquez es el autor de muchas obras de ficción y non ficción; incluyendo Cien años de soledad, El amor en los tiempos del cólera, El ...

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Vivir para contarla (Living to Tell the Tale)

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Overview

Gabriel Garcia Marquez was born in Colombia in 1927. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in literature in 1982. He lives in Mexico City.

Author biography from the book:

Gabriel García Márquez nació en Colombia en 1928. Le concedieron el Premio Nobel de Literatura en 1982. García Márquez es el autor de muchas obras de ficción y non ficción; incluyendo Cien años de soledad, El amor en los tiempos del cólera, El otoño del patriarca, El general en su laberinto, Crónica de una muerte anunciada, y Noticia de un secuestra. Vive en la Ciudad de México.

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Editorial Reviews

The Washington Post
[The book] is not at all the autumnal rumination that might reasonably be expected from one who is in his mid-seventies and has been seriously ill with lymphatic cancer for some years, but a bold, high-spirited, self-mocking, powerfully evocative and deeply revealing return visit to the author's youth and the raw material out of which his fiction emerged. As an account of the making of a novelist, it ranks with Eudora Welty's One Writer's Beginnings, but it is a vastly more ambitious work than Welty's perfect miniature; not merely is it incredibly deep and rich, at nearly 500 pages it is only the first volume of what is promised to be a three-volume set. — Jonathan Yardley
Tomás Eloy Martínez --El País
De todos los libros admirables que ha escrito, éste es el que nos ofrece el retrato más fiel de García Márquez.
The New York Times
Living to Tell the Tale — a title that conjures memories of Moby- Dick, as well as this Nobel laureate's own nonfiction book The Story of a Shipwrecked Sailor — is the first volume of a planned autobiographical trilogy. But its most powerful sections read like one of his mesmerizing novels, transporting the reader to a Latin America haunted by the ghosts of history and shaped by the exigencies of its daunting geography, by its heat and jungles and febrile light. The book provides as memorable a portrait of a young writer's apprenticeship as the one William Styron gave us in Sophie's Choice, even as it illuminates the alchemy Mr. García Márquez acquired from masters like Faulkner and Joyce and Borges and later used to transform family stories and firsthand experiences into fecund myths of his own. — Michiku Kakutani
The Los Angeles Times
Reading this book, one realizes that the key to García Márquez's success -- and the reason we love his literature -- lies in his extraordinary capacity to accept and enjoy life in its multiple dimensions. His talent to blend magic and reality relieves us from the rationalist Cartesian split -- so unhealthy for the spirit -- and presents an alternative, wholesome way to embrace both.—Gioconda Belli
Publishers Weekly
Since last October's long-awaited release of this first volume in a trilogy of Garcia Marquez's memoirs, readers in Spain and Latin America have been wondering whether the book is fiction or nonfiction. Can one of the greatest storytellers of the 20th century, winner of the 1982 Nobel for literature, write about his life without confusing reality and fictional adventures? Well, yes and no. At first glance, Garcia Marquez's vivid and detailed portrait of his early life (just released in Spanish in the U.S.) appears to be testament to a photographic memory. Yet as he explains in the epigraph, "Life isn't what one lived, but what one remembers and how one remembers it to tell it." He warns readers that memories are not just fact or fiction, but maybe a mix of both, depending on how one recalls past events. The book begins as Garcia Marquez returns to his hometown of Aracataca with his mother to sell the family's house. The narrative becomes a journey through Colombian history, starting with the writer's childhood in Aracataca and ending in 1957 at age 29, when he traveled abroad for the first time. Snapshot passages about his life as a student and a traveler on Colombia's most important river, the Magdalena, as well as the beginnings of his journalism career, are vividly narrated. Colombia's violent history is always in the background, as Garcia Marquez recalls such historical episodes as the Bananeras massacre, a banana labor strike in 1928 that escalated into the massive slaughter of United Fruit Company workers, and the Bogotazo, a 1948 uprising by the Liberal party that resulted in massive destruction and looting in the country's capital. This first volume reflects Garcia Marquez's experience as both a novelist and a journalist. While his prose is literary, in his imaginative signature style, the historical content is as rigorously researched as journalistic works like his most recent News of a Kidnapping. Readers will also find references to characters and places from the author's classics, including Love in the Time of Cholera, One Hundred Years of Solitude and Chronicle of a Death Foretold. Some may be tempted to use the trilogy as a manual for interpreting the author's oeuvre. But avid readers will find that Garcia Marquez's fictions are instead guides to understanding the first 592 pages of his life; anyone familiar with Macondo, the fantastic town in One Hundred Years of Solitude, will readily appreciate the writer's descriptions of Aracataca, for instance. This memoir is one of the greatest literary adventures to date from this Nobelist. 50,000 first printing. (Dec.) FYI: Knopf will publish the book in an English translation by Edith Grossman in late fall 2003 under the title Living to Tell the Tale. Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
Criticas
Twenty years after Garcia Marquez received the Nobel Prize for literature for the acclaimed Cien anos de soledad (One Hundred Years of Solitude, Catedra, 1994), several Spanish-language publishers from Latin America and Spain are releasing the long-awaited first volume of this Colombian author's memoirs. The book, which was said to have been delayed owing to the author's three-year battle with lymphatic cancer, starts with his childhood years in the small town of Aracataca and ends as he publishes his first book and leaves for Europe to become a newspaper correspondent. Readers will learn about his life as a student and traveler up Colombia's most important river, the Magdalena, and about the origins and violent history of Colombia's conflict. Will this book unlock the secrets of what inspired Garcia Marquez to write some of the world's most important contemporary literature? Read more about the connection between the author's life and his literature in the Jan./Feb. issue. [This volume is also available from Norma, Diana, and Sudamericana. Knopf will release a simultaneous English- and Spanish-language edition in fall 2003.
—Ed.] Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
Already a best seller in its Spanish edition, this work ranges from the Nobel laureate's 1927 birth to his first years as a writer. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
From the Publisher
“Un gran libro … En un mundo que sufre cada vez más de lo inverosímil, García Márquez le vuelve a levantar las faldas a la realidad, esta vez sirviéndose de la realidad misma”. —Gioconda Belli, Los Angeles Times

“De todos los libros admirables que ha escrito, éste es el que nos ofrece el retrato más fiel de García Márquez”. —Tomás Eloy Martínez, El País

“Un libro espléndido, unas memorias … que nos franquean el acceso a un mundo privado”. —Joaquín Marco, El Mundo

“Combina de elegancia, capricho y precisión coloquial que han definido el genio de su ficción”. —Houston Chronicle

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781400034536
  • Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 11/4/2003
  • Language: Spanish
  • Series: Vintage Espanol Series
  • Edition description: Spanish-language edition
  • Pages: 592
  • Sales rank: 168,859
  • Product dimensions: 5.18 (w) x 8.01 (h) x 0.99 (d)

Meet the Author

Gabriel García Márquez
Gabriel García Márquez nació en Colombia en 1927. Fue galardonado con el Premio Nobel de Literatura en 1982. Es autor de muchas obras de ficción y no ficción como Cien años de soledad, El amor en los tiempos del cólera, El otoño del patriarca, El general en su laberinto, Crónica de una muerte anunciada y Noticia de un secuestro. Vive en México D.F..

Biography

Gabriel García Márquez is the product of his family and his nation. Born in the small coastal town of Aracataca in northern Colombia, he was raised by his maternal grandparents. As a child, he was mesmerized by stories spun by his grandmother and her sisters -- a rich gumbo of superstitions, folk tales, and ghost stories that fired his youthful imagination. And from his grandfather, a colonel in Colombia's devastating Civil War, he learned about his country's political struggles. This potent mix of Liberal politics, family lore, and regional mythology formed the framework for his magical realist novels.

When his grandfather died, García Márquez was sent to Sucre to live (for the first time) with his parents. He attended university in Bogotá, where he studied law in accordance with his parents' wishes. It was here that he first read The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka and discovered a literature he understood intuitively -- one with nontraditional plots and structures, just like the stories he had known all his life. His studies were interrupted when the university was closed, and he moved back north, intending to pursue both writing and law; but before long, he quit school to pursue a career in journalism.

In 1954 his newspaper sent García Márquez on assignment to Italy, marking the start of a lifelong self-imposed exile from the horrors of Colombian politics that took him to Barcelona, Paris, New York, and Mexico. Influenced by American novelist William Faulkner, creator of the fictionalized Yoknapatawpha County, and by the powerful intergenerational tragedies of the Greek dramatist Sophocles, García Márquez began writing fiction, honing a signature blend of fantasy and reality that culminated in the 1967 masterpiece One Hundred Years of Solitude. This sweeping epic became an instant classic and set the stage for more bestselling novels, including Love in the Time of Cholera, Love and Other Demons, and Memories of My Melancholy Whores. In addition, he has completed the first volume of a shelf-bending memoir, and his journalism and nonfiction essays have been collected into several anthologies.

In 1982, García Márquez was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. In his acceptance speech, he called for a "sweeping utopia of life, where no one will be able to decide for others how they die, where love will prove true and happiness be possible, and where the races condemned to one hundred years of solitude will have, at last and forever, a second opportunity on earth." Few writers have pursued that utopia with more passion and vigor than this towering 20th-century novelist.

Good To Know

Gabriel José García Márquez' affectionate nickname is Gabo.

García Márquez' first two novellas were completed long before their actual release dates, but might not have been published if it weren't for his friends, who found the manuscripts in a desk drawer and a suitcase, and sent them in for publication.

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    1. Also Known As:
      Gabriel José García Márquez
    2. Hometown:
      Mexico City, Mexico
    1. Date of Birth:
      March 6, 1928
    2. Place of Birth:
      Aracataca, Colombia
    1. Education:
      Universidad Nacional de Colombia, 1947-48, and Universidad de Cartagena, 1948-49

Read an Excerpt

1

Mi madre me pidió que la acompañara a vender la casa. Había llegado a Barranquilla esa mañana desde el pueblo distante donde vivía la familia y no tenía la menor idea de cómo encontrarme. Preguntando por aquí y por allá entre los conocidos, le indicaron que me buscara en la librería Mundo o en los cafés vecinos, donde iba dos veces al día a conversar con mis amigos escritores. El que se lo dijo le advirtió: «Vaya con cuidado porque son locos de remate». Llegó a las doce en punto. Se abrió paso con su andar ligero por entre las mesas de libros en exhibición, se me plantó enfrente, mirándome a los ojos con la sonrisa pícara de sus días mejores, y antes que yo pudiera reaccionar, me dijo:

–Soy tu madre.

Algo había cambiado en ella que me impidió reconocerla a primera vista. Tenía cuarenta y cinco años. Sumando sus once partos, había pasado casi diez años encinta y por lo menos otros tantos amamantando a sus hijos. Había encanecido por completo antes de tiempo, los ojos se le veían más grandes y atónitos detrás de sus primeros lentes bifocales, y guardaba un luto cerrado y serio por la muerte de su madre, pero conservaba todavía la belleza romana de su retrato de bodas, ahora dignificada por un aura otoñal. Antes de nada, aun antes de abrazarme, me dijo con su estilo ceremonial de costumbre:

–Vengo a pedirte el favor de que me acompañes a vender la casa.

No tuvo que decirme cuál, ni dónde, porque para nosotros sólo existía una en el mundo: lavieja casa de los abuelos en Aracataca, donde tuve la buena suerte de nacer y donde no volví a vivir después de los ocho años. Acababa de abandonar la facultad de derecho al cabo de seis semestres, dedicados más que nada a leer lo que me cayera en las manos y recitar de memoria la poesía irrepetible del Siglo de Oro español. Había leído ya, traducidos y en ediciones prestadas, todos los libros que me habrían bastado para aprender la técnica de novelar, y había publicado seis cuentos en suplementos de periódicos, que merecieron el entusiasmo de mis amigos y la atención de algunos críticos. Iba a cumplir veintitrés años el mes siguiente, era ya infractor del servicio militar y veterano de dos blenorragias, y me fumaba cada día, sin premoniciones, sesenta cigarrillos de tabaco bárbaro. Alternaba mis ocios entre Barranquilla y Cartagena de Indias, en la costa caribe de Colombia, sobreviviendo a cuerpo de rey con lo que me pagaban por mis notas diarias en El Heraldo, que era casi menos que nada, y dormía lo mejor acompañado posible donde me sorprendiera la noche. Como si no fuera bastante la incertidumbre sobre mis pretensiones y el caos de mi vida, un grupo de amigos inseparables nos disponíamos a publicar una revista temeraria y sin recursos que Alfonso Fuenmayor planeaba desde hacía tres años. ¿Qué más podía desear?

Más por escasez que por gusto me anticipé a la moda en veinte años: bigote silvestre, cabellos alborotados, pantalones de vaquero, camisas de flores equívocas y sandalias de peregrino. En la oscuridad de un cine, y sin saber que yo estaba cerca, una amiga de entonces le dijo a alguien: «El pobre Gabito es un caso perdido». De modo que cuando mi madre me pidió que fuera con ella a vender la casa no tuve ningún estorbo para decirle que sí. Ella me planteó que no tenía dinero bastante y por orgullo le dije que pagaba mis gastos.

En el periódico en que trabajaba no era posible resolverlo. Me pagaban tres pesos por nota diaria y cuatro por un editorial cuando faltaba alguno de los editorialistas de planta, pero apenas me alcanzaban. Traté de hacer un préstamo, pero el gerente me recordó que mi deuda original ascendía a más de cincuenta pesos. Esa tarde cometí un abuso del cual ninguno de mis amigos habría sido capaz. A la salida del café Colombia, junto a la librería, me emparejé con don Ramón Vinyes, el viejo maestro y librero catalán, y le pedí prestados diez pesos. Sólo tenía seis.

Ni mi madre ni yo, por supuesto, hubiéramos podido imaginar siquiera que aquel cándido paseo de sólo dos días iba a ser tan determinante para mí, que la más larga y diligente de las vidas no me alcanzaría para acabar de contarlo. Ahora, con más de setenta y cinco años bien medidos, sé que fue la decisión más importante de cuantas tuve que tomar en mi carrera de escritor. Es decir: en toda mi vida.

Hasta la adolescencia, la memoria tiene más interés en el futuro que en el pasado, así que mis recuerdos del pueblo no estaban todavía idealizados por la nostalgia. Lo recordaba como era: un lugar bueno para vivir, donde se conocía todo el mundo, a la orilla de un río de aguas diáfanas que se precipitaban por un lecho de piedras pulidas, blancas y enormes como huevos prehistóricos. Al atardecer, sobre todo en diciembre, cuando pasaban las lluvias y el aire se volvía de diamante, la Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta parecía acercarse con sus picachos blancos hasta las plantaciones de banano de la orilla opuesta. Desde allí se veían los indios arhuacos corriendo en filas de hormiguitas por las cornisas de la sierra, con sus costales de jengibre a cuestas y masticando bolas de coca para entretener a la vida. Los niños teníamos entonces la ilusión de hacer pelotas con las nieves perpetuas y jugar a la guerra en las calles abrasantes. Pues el calor era tan inverosímil, sobre todo durante la siesta, que los adultos se quejaban de él como si fuera una sorpresa de cada día. Desde mi nacimiento oí repetir sin descanso que las vías del ferrocarril y los campamentos de la United Fruit Company fueron construidos de noche, porque de día era imposible agarrar las herramientas recalentadas al sol.

La única manera de llegar a Aracataca desde Barranquilla era en una destartalada lancha de motor por un caño excavado a brazo de esclavo durante la Colonia, y luego a través de una vasta ciénaga de aguas turbias y desoladas, hasta la misteriosa población de Ciénaga. Allí se tomaba el tren ordinario que había sido en sus orígenes el mejor del país, y en el cual se hacía el trayecto final por las inmensas plantaciones de banano, con muchas paradas ociosas en aldeas polvorientas y ardientes, y estaciones solitarias. Ése fue el camino que mi madre y yo emprendimos a las siete de la noche del sábado 18 de febrero de 1950 –vísperas del carnaval– bajo un aguacero diluvial fuera de tiempo y con treinta y dos pesos en efectivo que nos alcanzarían apenas para regresar si la casa no se vendía en las condiciones previstas.

Los vientos alisios estaban tan bravos aquella noche, que en el puerto fluvial me costó trabajo convencer a mi madre de que se embarcara. No le faltaba razón. Las lanchas eran imitaciones reducidas de los buques de vapor de Nueva Orleáns, pero con motores de gasolina que le transmitían un temblor de fiebre mala a todo lo que estaba a bordo. Tenían un saloncito con horcones para colgar hamacas en distintos niveles, y escaños de madera donde cada quien se acomodaba a codazos como pudiera con sus equipajes excesivos, bultos de mercancías, huacales de gallinas y hasta cerdos vivos. Tenían unos pocos camarotes sofocantes con dos literas de cuartel, casi siempre ocupados por putitas de mala muerte que prestaban servicios de emergencia durante el viaje. Como a última hora no encontramos ninguno libre, ni llevábamos hamacas, mi madre y yo nos tomamos por asalto dos sillas de hierro del corredor central y allí nos dispusimos a pasar la noche.

Tal como ella temía, la tormenta vapuleó la temeraria embarcación mientras atravesábamos el río Mag-dalena, que a tan corta distancia de su estuario tiene un temperamento oceánico. Yo había comprado en el puerto una buena provisión de cigarrillos de los más baratos, de tabaco negro y con un papel al que poco le faltaba para ser de estraza, y empecé a fumar a mi manera de entonces, encendiendo uno con la colilla del otro, mientras releía Luz de agosto, de William Faulkner, que era entonces el más fiel de mis demonios tutelares. Mi madre se aferró a su camándula como de un ca-brestante capaz de desencallar un tractor o sostener un avión en el aire, y de acuerdo con su costumbre no pidió nada para ella, sino prosperidad y larga vida para sus once huérfanos. Su plegaria debió llegar a donde debía, porque la lluvia se volvió mansa cuando entramos en el caño y la brisa sopló apenas para espantar a los mosquitos. Mi madre guardó entonces el rosario y durante un largo rato observó en silencio el fragor de la vida que transcurría en torno de nosotros.

Había nacido en una casa modesta, pero creció en el esplendor efímero de la compañía bananera, del cual le quedó al menos una buena educación de niña rica en el colegio de la Presentación de la Santísima Virgen, en Santa Marta. Durante las vacaciones de Navidad bordaba en bastidor con sus amigas, tocaba el clavicordio en los bazares de caridad y asistía con una tía chaperona a los bailes más depurados de la timorata aristocracia local, pero nadie le había conocido novio alguno cuando se casó contra la voluntad de sus padres con el telegrafista del pueblo. Sus virtudes más notorias desde entonces eran el sentido del humor y la salud de hierro que las insidias de la adversidad no lograrían derrotar en su larga vida. Pero la más sorprendente, y también desde entonces la menos sospechable, era el talento exquisito con que lograba disimular la tremenda fuerza de su carácter: un Leo perfecto. Esto le había permitido establecer un poder matriarcal cuyo dominio alcanzaba hasta los parientes más remotos en los lugares menos pensados, como un sistema planetario que ella manejaba desde su cocina, con voz tenue y sin parpadear apenas, mientras hervía la marmita de los frijoles.

Viéndola sobrellevar sin inmutarse aquel viaje brutal, yo me preguntaba cómo había podido subordinar tan pronto y con tanto dominio las injusticias de la pobreza. Nada como aquella mala noche para ponerla a prueba. Los mosquitos carniceros, el calor denso y nauseabundo por el fango de los canales que la lancha iba revolviendo a su paso, el trajín de los pasajeros desvelados que no encontraban acomodo dentro del pellejo, todo parecía hecho a propósito para desquiciar la índole mejor templada. Mi madre lo soportaba inmóvil en su silla, mientras las muchachas de alquiler hacían la cosecha de carnaval en los camarotes cercanos, disfrazadas de hombres o de manolas. Una de ellas había entrado y salido del suyo varias veces, siempre con un cliente distinto, y al lado mismo del asiento de mi madre. Yo pensé que ella no la había visto. Pero a la cuarta o quinta vez que entró y salió en menos de una hora, la siguió con una mirada de lástima hasta el final del corredor.

–Pobres muchachas –suspiró–. Lo que tienen que hacer para vivir es peor que trabajar.

Copyright© 2002 by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
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Table of Contents

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 25 )
Rating Distribution

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 25 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 20, 2010

    Amazing

    I love all this author and this book is all I expected from him and more.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 23, 2007

    It stands unique by itself!

    Although I can consider myself a GGM fiction fan, I encountered ¿Vivir Para Contarla¿ utterly more attention-grabbing than any of his other works. Perhaps It was just the fact that he related his real life, from the time before his birth until he was something like twenty eight years old, in such a magical way that I could just not put the book down for more than a few moments. I could come across in this volume with so much of the background that made the genius in Gabo, that I could not accept it as factual. Actually I was so beguiled by the story, by the idiosyncrasy of his large and astonishing family, by the actual brilliance and intelligence of the child, the adolescent and the young man in Gabo, that I unreservedly supposed I was immersed in one more of this author¿s accomplishments. He relates his non precedent childhood and early adolescent years as a conspicuous reader and writer of poems and stories- which he memorized and recited by hearth-, as a distinguished picture drawer, as a notable singer, as an extremely timid person, in sum: as another character out of its novellas and short stories. He, at the same time, enriches our reading with his detailed and exhaustive career as an anonymous young journalist in Colombia, who spends an awesome amount of his free time discussing literature with his fellow workers and friends, at a time period when literature was the coolest matter to be involved in. However, the social and political backgrounds of his whereabouts are so precise and stuck to Colombian and the World¿s historic and social events, that henceforth what he conveys us in this first volume of his autobiography must have a great deal of reality in it. In spite of the fact that a myriad of the characters, locations and events that we find as basis for his novellas and short stories come out of his real life, I do not believe it imperative to be acquainted to any of his other masterpieces in order to devour and absolutely enjoy this volume. It stands unique by itself! I am anxiously waiting for the subsequent volumes of this trilogy, however due to the actual author¿s sickness I don¿t believe we will be receiving the complete trilogy at all.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 6, 2004

    Es un Libro Excellente, especialmente es espanol

    Estoy Leendo este libro, y como todo sus libros es super facinante su historia. Probablemente, en la traducion a otra lengua al Ingles, la magia de nuestra lengua espanol se pierde en la traduccion lo recomiendo leerlo

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 28, 2003

    Great piece of writing, but not a collector's item.

    Read the book in about 10 days expecting to find the same images and imagination of his previous works, left me hoping for more, although he vividly portrays how his life has evolved, at times it became boring that I felt that out of respect I finished reading it. But after reading the entire book with so much interest to find out the details of his life, I was left with great admiration for his life, his intelligence, perseverance, and great accomplishments. To find out how he developed great characters for his books, and details of his life left me fascinated. Although I do not applaud his dealings with prostitutes, bouts with gonorrhea, and stealing a suit for his father and a briefcase for himself, I admire his sincerity to share with us those embarrasing details of his life. Can't wait to read what Mercedes Barcha says on her reply...

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted May 30, 2014

    Wonderful

    One of the best writers of our times

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 14, 2004

    un gran escritor!

    este libro nos muestra como para llegar a ser un premio novel se tiene que luchar duro en la vida

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 26, 2003

    I've read it 7 times...

    ... and every time it's a different book. A masterpiece of one of the most spanish language writers. If possible, read it in spanish ;)

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 15, 2003

    An Outstanding Book by An Outstanding Master of the Letters

    The life of this master of Spanish literature, narrated in Garciaz's most peculiar style, is a rich description that illuminates the readers of the motives that urged Garcia Marquez to compose literary fantacies that have conquered the heart of the entire Spanish-speaking world. His life reflects the struggle of a person to arrive to a mature point in his life to determine the right course of his existence. It's a reflection of Latin-American societies' growth in its subtlest form, told through the experience of a literary genius. This title does not culminate a life of brilliant works of literature, but rather extends his legacy to future generations. It's the signature to his life's artworks

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 22, 2003

    The Realism and magic incarnate a man family history

    This book is the most important writen by Marquez, after 'one hundred years of solicitude'. Reading this autobiography you can understand all Marquez novels. In this book Garcia Marquez presents with an extraordinary style the realism and the magic of his novels, blended with his own family and country history. I recomend this great book. I readed it in a a weekend with a lot of Colombian coffee.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 17, 2002

    Enjoyable!!!

    This book is a must have if you are a fan of García Márquez. You can tell he enjoyed writing his story, and therefore, you enjoy reading it. It is full of fascinating details about his life,his studies, his job experiences early in his life, as well as important facts of the country at that particular time. In conclusion: RICH!! Buy it.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 5, 2003

    Real life stranger than fiction !!!

    I just finished reading it and I already want more. Gabo takes you for a stroll through his life with Colombia's history as a background.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 18, 2003

    Amazing Adventure

    I have just finished reading it and let me tell you that is a wonderful adventure. It reveals a lot of aspects about the author's life that you could have never thougth of. I cannot wait until the second part comes out. I hope you will enjoy as much as I did.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 17, 2002

    Breathtaking

    To read EL Maestro's own guide to the direct links between the people and places, real and imagined (only vaguely distinguished) of his childhood and youth and the world of the novels and their characters, is exhilarating and enlightening. The Colonel's pension, the "real" Macondo, the "Buendía" family, the rolling of the generations and the wars that succeed one another in poor benighted Colombia...from the perspective of the man who has singlehandedly transformed a Continent´s self-perceptions...if you can´t wait for the English translation, tackle the Spanish. It´s all in the cadences...

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 22, 2002

    MAGNIFICO!!!

    Me ha resultado supremamente revelador el que el autor nos lleve de la mano por su memoria fantástica, y nos muestre sus recuerdos y sus historias, del modo que sólo el puede hacerlo. La identidad de muchos de sus personajes, que le era adjudicada, erróneamente, a amigos suyos e incluso a familiares, en este libro, deja translucir todos los secretos de los personajes auténticos en los que se basó para crear a los míticos Macondianos.

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    Posted February 5, 2012

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    Posted April 5, 2010

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    Posted March 24, 2009

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    Posted March 18, 2012

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 29, 2008

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 21, 2012

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