Gabriel García Márquez

“The only thing that hurts me about dying, is that it’s not dying of love.”  📖

This Tuesday March 6 marks 91 years since the birth of the Colombian writer Gabriel García Márquez. The author of such emblematic works as “Love in the Time of Cholera” was born on March 6, 1927 in Aracataca, northern Colombia and died at the age of 87 in Mexico City.
Known as ‘Gabo’, he was a writer, journalist and screenwriter, as well as a cultural agitator by conviction and father of “magical realism” in literature.
Picture of Gabriel García Márquez with glasses andsticking their tongue out
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Among all his works, ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ (1967) stands out, one of the peaks of universal literature; translated into 35 languages ​​and with more than 30 million copies sold to date. But ‘Gabo’ was not just a great writer, he was a member of the Colombian Academy of Language, promoter of the Foundation of New Latin American Cinema, based in Havana (1985) and the New Ibero-American Journalism Foundation (1994), as well as a language revolutionary, who even asked for the suppression of grammar and spelling.

A book can touch your soul

📚 I  am so happy to celebrate the “World Book Day”!  📚
I have a special relationship with books and taking advantage of the date, I thought it would be a good occasion to share some facts that marked my affinity with them.

In elementary school, several years ago and when it was not yet a topic in focus, I suffered a form of psychological bullying. There was that stereotypical “popular girl” who all the other girls followed and carried out each of her whims. This girl had forbidden them to play with me, I discovered it the day I dared to ask a girl: “Why do not you want to play with me?” Then she responded: “I want to, I like you, but Karen would mad at me if I do it and she would be mean to me”

At that time, I was only 9 years old. That deep feeling of “non-acceptance” and loneliness, went away little by little by the hand of two events. The first event was when I began to frequent the school library during breaks. I remember that, with great kindness, Teresita, the librarian, always recommended me some interesting book, or she reserved for some time the book I was reading so that no one would take it. I ended up being the first to read each new book that arrived! Being 9 years old, that made me feel extremely happy and special!.

The first book I read, although I did not understand it at the time, was “Le Petit Prince”, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.
Shortly after, my mother received an award for her humanitarian work. The person who handed her that beautiful gold medal was a renowned journalist from the region where we lived. This, will come to issue in a moment.

When I turned 15, I received a book as a present: “La Resistencia” by Ernesto Sábato. That book caused something that I could not explain accurately using words, but it was deep and from that day I’ve been placing it quite often in any bag I carry.

Let’s move on to my first class in the career of Social Communication. To my surprise, my teacher would be the same journalist that had given my mother thatt prize some time ago. He made a brief introduction about the career and then showed us a book: “La Resistencia” by Ernesto Sábato.
He started talking about that book and about the career of the journalist with the same feeling that the book had stirred within me the first time.

While the professor was speaking, I retrieved my book from bag and placed it on the desk. The same edition, even. And he could not believe it.

He asked me to read my favourite part, a request that I accepted immediately, and to our mutual surprise, he had highlighted the exact same extract in his book.

I have more stories that I promise I will tell in a second post, but for now I wanted to share with you these two, which marked my heart.

Happy World Book Day to everyone!

Picture on a Waterstones book shop.  There is a  sign post that reads: "Time for books". Also, there are lots of books and the sections: Poetry, drama and literary criticism

The Reader 📖

The Reader (Der Vorleser) is a novel by German law professor and judge, Bernhard Schlink, first published in Germany in 1995 and in the United States in 1997.

Outfit of the week

I do not remember exactly when I first read this book, but it’s been a few years. I like to rediscover great works after a certain time, they find me in a different moment of my life in which, sometimes, I find different flavours, and other times, I find some which haven’t changed at all. Among those first, you will find this particular page; Lines that did not mean too much for me at that time and yet I empathise with now:

I did go to the presiding judge after all. I couldn’t make myself visit Hanna. But neither could I endure doing nothing. Why didn’t I manage to speak to Hanna? She had left me, deceived me, was not the person I had taken her for or imagined her to be. And who had I been for her? The little reader she used, the little bedmate with whom she’d had her fun? Would she have sent me to the gas chamber if she hadn’t been able to leave me, but wanted to get rid of me? Why did I find it unendurable to do nothing? I told myself I had to prevent a miscarriage of justice. I had to make sure justice was done, despite Hanna’s lifelong lie, justice both for and against Hanna, so to speak. But I wasn’t really concerned with justice. I couldn’t leave Hanna the way she was, or wanted to be. I had to meddle with her, have some kind of influence and effect on her, if not directly then indirectly.

I invite you to test this too, find a book that you’ve read a long time ago and give it a second read. Who knows, maybe you could be surprised too!