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Memories of My Melancholy Whores
Memories of My Melancholy Whores is a powerful novel about a man who so far has never felt love from Nobel Laureate Gabriel Garcia Marquez, author of the One Hundred Years of Solitude.
'The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin'
On the eve of his ninetieth birthday a newspaper columnist in Colombia decides to give himself 'a night of mad love with a virgin adolescent'. But on seeing this beautiful girl he falls deeply under her spell. His love for his 'Delgadina' causes him to recall all the women he has paid to perform acts of love. And so the columnist realises he must chronicle the life of his heart, to offer it freely to the world. . .
'Marquez describes this amorous, sometimes disturbing journey with the grace and vigour of a master storyteller' Daily Mail
'Marquez is wonderful on the transformative and redemptive powers of love. . . storytelling magic' Tatler
'Marquez writes in this lyrical, magical language that no-one else can do' Salman Rushie
As one of the pioneers of magic realism and perhaps the most prominent voice of Latin American literature, Gabriel Garcia Marquez has received international recognition for his novels, works of non-fiction and collections of short stories. Those published in translation by Penguin include Autumn of the Patriarch, Bon Voyage Mr. President, Chronicle of a Death Foretold, Collected Stories, The General in his Labyrinth, In Evil Hour, Innocent Erendira and Other Stories, Leaf Storm, Living to Tell the Tale, Love in the Time of Cholera, News of a Kidnapping, No-one Writes to the Colonel, Of Love and Other Demons, The Story of a Shipwrecked Sailor and Strange Pilgrims.
118 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 19, 2004
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About the author
Gabriel García Márquez
986 books41.2k followersGabriel José de la Concordia García Márquez was a Colombian novelist, short-story writer, screenwriter and journalist. García Márquez, familiarly known as "Gabo" in his native country, was considered one of the most significant authors of the 20th century. In 1982, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature.
He studied at the University of Bogotá and later worked as a reporter for the Colombian newspaper El Espectador and as a foreign correspondent in Rome, Paris, Barcelona, Caracas, and New York. He wrote many acclaimed non-fiction works and short stories, but is best-known for his novels, such as One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967) and Love in the Time of Cholera (1985). His works have achieved significant critical acclaim and widespread commercial success, most notably for popularizing a literary style labeled as magical realism, which uses magical elements and events in order to explain real experiences. Some of his works are set in a fictional village called Macondo, and most of them express the theme of solitude.
Having previously written shorter fiction and screenplays, García Márquez sequestered himself away in his Mexico City home for an extended period of time to complete his novel Cien años de soledad, or One Hundred Years of Solitude, published in 1967. The author drew international acclaim for the work, which ultimately sold tens of millions of copies worldwide. García Márquez is credited with helping introduce an array of readers to magical realism, a genre that combines more conventional storytelling forms with vivid, layers of fantasy.
Another one of his novels, El amor en los tiempos del cólera (1985), or Love in the Time of Cholera, drew a large global audience as well. The work was partially based on his parents' courtship and was adapted into a 2007 film starring Javier Bardem. García Márquez wrote seven novels during his life, with additional titles that include El general en su laberinto (1989), or The General in His Labyrinth, and Del amor y otros demonios (1994), or Of Love and Other Demons.
(Arabic: جابرييل جارسيا ماركيز) (Hebrew: גבריאל גארסיה מרקס) (Ukrainian: Ґабріель Ґарсія Маркес) (Belarussian: Габрыель Гарсія Маркес) (Russian: Габриэль Гарсия Маркес)
He studied at the University of Bogotá and later worked as a reporter for the Colombian newspaper El Espectador and as a foreign correspondent in Rome, Paris, Barcelona, Caracas, and New York. He wrote many acclaimed non-fiction works and short stories, but is best-known for his novels, such as One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967) and Love in the Time of Cholera (1985). His works have achieved significant critical acclaim and widespread commercial success, most notably for popularizing a literary style labeled as magical realism, which uses magical elements and events in order to explain real experiences. Some of his works are set in a fictional village called Macondo, and most of them express the theme of solitude.
Having previously written shorter fiction and screenplays, García Márquez sequestered himself away in his Mexico City home for an extended period of time to complete his novel Cien años de soledad, or One Hundred Years of Solitude, published in 1967. The author drew international acclaim for the work, which ultimately sold tens of millions of copies worldwide. García Márquez is credited with helping introduce an array of readers to magical realism, a genre that combines more conventional storytelling forms with vivid, layers of fantasy.
Another one of his novels, El amor en los tiempos del cólera (1985), or Love in the Time of Cholera, drew a large global audience as well. The work was partially based on his parents' courtship and was adapted into a 2007 film starring Javier Bardem. García Márquez wrote seven novels during his life, with additional titles that include El general en su laberinto (1989), or The General in His Labyrinth, and Del amor y otros demonios (1994), or Of Love and Other Demons.
(Arabic: جابرييل جارسيا ماركيز) (Hebrew: גבריאל גארסיה מרקס) (Ukrainian: Ґабріель Ґарсія Маркес) (Belarussian: Габрыель Гарсія Маркес) (Russian: Габриэль Гарсия Маркес)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 6,706 reviews
June 21, 2019
To enjoy this book you have to enter the mind and world of this old, old man, living the last years of his life in poverty in the once-grand, decaying house of his youth. His career never rose above second-rate reporter, he never married and never even fell in love. His personal relationships with women were limited to the whores he paid for. A most unfulfilled life.
But then, for a present for his 90th birthday, he gives himself a 14 year-old virgin, a would-be whore. Exhausted from menial labour and drugged-up with valerian by the brothel madame, she sleeps every night they spend together, her sleeping and he sitting on a chair next to her bed. and for the first time in his life he falls in love. In love with the idea of his sleeping beauty.
This is a poetic, sensual book that many reviewers, unable to see beyond their own ideas of fitness, have condemned as tawdry, a paean to pedophilia and just plain sick. But it isn't. It's the last flowering of a rose; touched by frost it should have died but instead is more glorious, more beautiful because it is so unseasonal, a real surprise. What it says about the nature of men's love for young beauty is age-old: look good, be quiet and demure, and let him be the dominant one, is taken to an extreme here. It worked for Snow White, it worked for the Sleeping Beauty and it works for Delgadina too.
Love changes everything. Despite his 90 years, the old, old man walks with a spring in his step, his head held high and smiling to the world. He has an epiphany, 'sex is the consolation one has for not finding enough love' and writes about love in his weekly columns in the local newspaper. This brings him the fame, respect and friendship he had craved all his life. In his 91st year, at last, he has found fulfillment.
Ultimately, Gabriel Garcia Marquez says through this book: Never Give Up.
Read May 1, 2009
Update I've been reading other reviews and it seems that people think this book is about paedophilia, some Lolita book. Nothing could be further from the truth. The whores and loveless sex without dreams or commitment didn't bring the old man happiness. Now, not having sex but just sitting beside a sleeping girl and dreaming and falling in love with the dream, has brought about a sea change. Pure love and romantic daydreams have made him happy and this happiness has seeped into every aspect of his lire, until, despite his years he walks with a spring in his step and a smile on his face and this happiness makes him a hero to all who see him.
This is a brilliant book. It is the last book, the final jewel inset into the crown that is the literature of GGM. Do not hold back because of what you've heard. Do not misinterpret and see what isn't there. This book is the musings of a life without much happiness, not sex, and the girl is no more molested than was Snow White resting in her glass case with only her beauty on show.
I wrote this update purely because both on GR and in my shop people "have heard" about this book and so don't think they want to read it. December 4th, 2016
But then, for a present for his 90th birthday, he gives himself a 14 year-old virgin, a would-be whore. Exhausted from menial labour and drugged-up with valerian by the brothel madame, she sleeps every night they spend together, her sleeping and he sitting on a chair next to her bed. and for the first time in his life he falls in love. In love with the idea of his sleeping beauty.
This is a poetic, sensual book that many reviewers, unable to see beyond their own ideas of fitness, have condemned as tawdry, a paean to pedophilia and just plain sick. But it isn't. It's the last flowering of a rose; touched by frost it should have died but instead is more glorious, more beautiful because it is so unseasonal, a real surprise. What it says about the nature of men's love for young beauty is age-old: look good, be quiet and demure, and let him be the dominant one, is taken to an extreme here. It worked for Snow White, it worked for the Sleeping Beauty and it works for Delgadina too.
Love changes everything. Despite his 90 years, the old, old man walks with a spring in his step, his head held high and smiling to the world. He has an epiphany, 'sex is the consolation one has for not finding enough love' and writes about love in his weekly columns in the local newspaper. This brings him the fame, respect and friendship he had craved all his life. In his 91st year, at last, he has found fulfillment.
Ultimately, Gabriel Garcia Marquez says through this book: Never Give Up.
Read May 1, 2009
Update I've been reading other reviews and it seems that people think this book is about paedophilia, some Lolita book. Nothing could be further from the truth. The whores and loveless sex without dreams or commitment didn't bring the old man happiness. Now, not having sex but just sitting beside a sleeping girl and dreaming and falling in love with the dream, has brought about a sea change. Pure love and romantic daydreams have made him happy and this happiness has seeped into every aspect of his lire, until, despite his years he walks with a spring in his step and a smile on his face and this happiness makes him a hero to all who see him.
This is a brilliant book. It is the last book, the final jewel inset into the crown that is the literature of GGM. Do not hold back because of what you've heard. Do not misinterpret and see what isn't there. This book is the musings of a life without much happiness, not sex, and the girl is no more molested than was Snow White resting in her glass case with only her beauty on show.
I wrote this update purely because both on GR and in my shop people "have heard" about this book and so don't think they want to read it. December 4th, 2016
August 31, 2021
(B+) 77% | Good
Notes: The premise is interesting and the text is beautifully written, but the story's thin and the ending's a bit disappointing.
Notes: The premise is interesting and the text is beautifully written, but the story's thin and the ending's a bit disappointing.
Read
June 5, 2007This is it everyone- The most depressing book I have read. Ever. Yes. This book. Not the ones about the holocaust, brutal wars, awful diseases... this book. About an old man who has only ever slept with whores. I don't know why it got to me like it did, but I would read a few pages and feel physically sick to my stomach. It's not the subject matter (it's interesting), it's not the writing (he's Marquez)... it's just this sense of awfulness. This awful awful life he's lead, and what he has never known. What his little, vulgar life consists of.
Maybe Marquez is just too on his game here. He's just too good at creating this sense of emptiness, and this wasteland of a life. That isn't really all /that/ tragic. It's just so unutterably sad, I can't describe it.
I don't know what to rate it. I never finished it. And I haven't been brave enough to pick it up again since.
Maybe Marquez is just too on his game here. He's just too good at creating this sense of emptiness, and this wasteland of a life. That isn't really all /that/ tragic. It's just so unutterably sad, I can't describe it.
I don't know what to rate it. I never finished it. And I haven't been brave enough to pick it up again since.
June 1, 2020
2.5/5
After getting the cringing fingernails down a chalkboard type feeling of a ninety-year-old man with a boner eradicated from my mind, I thought to myself "right, now that's out the way, this IS García Márquez we are talking about here, I am in safe hands, don't worry, this will turn out to be a decent read". Or at least that's what I'd hoped.
This novella is narrated by an aging connoisseur of girls for hire. After spending a lifetime getting it on with prostitutes (514 of them to be precise, before losing count) the unnamed journalist fancies a nice young virgin for his 90th birthday. On the first of many occasions, he enters a room to discover the chosen girl of 14, naked and asleep. Over time he obsesses about her; writes columns that drive his readers into a frenzy; kisses her everywhere and reads to her as she sleeps. But never consummates the relationship sexually or sees her awake. The whole scenario of such an elderly man wanted to bed someone so young just put me off, but this wasn't the biggest of it's problems. Simply put, I found it dull and lazy. The narrator's wit and charm were not enough to counterbalance the monotony of his aimlessness, and sadly as a result, I never at any moment felt anything for anyone involved. It could have worked out better if I tried to look at things from the perspective of the protagonist, but I chose not to. I didn't want to be in his mind, his pants, or in his bed.
Frustratingly though, there were flashes of Márquez's brilliance, but this was reduced to the occasional passage of writing here and there, even the striking insights into the euphoria that is the flip side to the fear of death, couldn't save it from the grave. No wonder the whores were melancholic, they were probably also fed up, I don't blame them. Was expecting so much more, this felt like Gabriel's bad day at the office, but I guess we do all have them.
After getting the cringing fingernails down a chalkboard type feeling of a ninety-year-old man with a boner eradicated from my mind, I thought to myself "right, now that's out the way, this IS García Márquez we are talking about here, I am in safe hands, don't worry, this will turn out to be a decent read". Or at least that's what I'd hoped.
This novella is narrated by an aging connoisseur of girls for hire. After spending a lifetime getting it on with prostitutes (514 of them to be precise, before losing count) the unnamed journalist fancies a nice young virgin for his 90th birthday. On the first of many occasions, he enters a room to discover the chosen girl of 14, naked and asleep. Over time he obsesses about her; writes columns that drive his readers into a frenzy; kisses her everywhere and reads to her as she sleeps. But never consummates the relationship sexually or sees her awake. The whole scenario of such an elderly man wanted to bed someone so young just put me off, but this wasn't the biggest of it's problems. Simply put, I found it dull and lazy. The narrator's wit and charm were not enough to counterbalance the monotony of his aimlessness, and sadly as a result, I never at any moment felt anything for anyone involved. It could have worked out better if I tried to look at things from the perspective of the protagonist, but I chose not to. I didn't want to be in his mind, his pants, or in his bed.
Frustratingly though, there were flashes of Márquez's brilliance, but this was reduced to the occasional passage of writing here and there, even the striking insights into the euphoria that is the flip side to the fear of death, couldn't save it from the grave. No wonder the whores were melancholic, they were probably also fed up, I don't blame them. Was expecting so much more, this felt like Gabriel's bad day at the office, but I guess we do all have them.
July 16, 2025
دراما عبثية أخرى عن عجوز بلغ التسعين و لم يتزوج أبدا و لم يتحمل أي مسئولية. بل لم يدرك أن عليه ذلك إلا متأخرا جدا.
قلت لها: يبدو أنني بدأت أشيخ. تنهدت هي: نحن شخنا بالفعل. لكن الأمر إن الواحد منا لا يشعر بالشيخوخة من الداخل و لكن من الخارج كل العالم يراها.و لأنه أنفق حياته في الملذات بالطول و العرض و لم يع أن وجود شريكة لحياته من الأمور المهمة إلا في الفراش فقد كانت الحقيقة الكاشفة أن الروح لا تصدأ أبدا و أن الجسد يبلى و القلب ما زال أخضرا على عوده
منذ ذلك الوقت بدأت أقيس الحياة ليس بالسنوات و لكن بالعقود. عقد الخمسينات من عمري كان حاسما لأنني انتبهت إلى أن كل الناس تقريبا أصغر مني سنا. و الستينيات كانت الأكثر توترا لاشتباهي في أنه لم يبق لدي وقت حتى أخطئ. و السبعينيات كان مخيفا لاشتباهي في أنه ربما يكون العقد الأخير من عمري. و بالتالي عندما استيقظت حيا و سعيدا في أول يوم من أعوامي التسعين في سرير دلجادينا اخترقتني الفكرة السعيدة بأن الحياة ليست شيئا يجري كنهر هيراكليتو العكر بل هي فرصة وحيدة للتقلب على النار و مواصلة شواء النفس من الجانب الأخر خلال تسعين سنة أخرى.
July 8, 2025
(B+) 77% | Good
Notes: Wherein love is blind, undefined, limitless potential, but also illusion, addiction, delusion and capriciously torrential.
*Check out progress updates for detailed commentary:
Notes: Wherein love is blind, undefined, limitless potential, but also illusion, addiction, delusion and capriciously torrential.
*Check out progress updates for detailed commentary:
January 28, 2008
I really didn't like this story. The writing as always was wonderful - the descriptions, the language, the character development - all excellent. The story however was extremely disturbing and sad.
Chapter 1 in particular, when the narrator describes how upon turning 90 he decided he wanted to have sex with a young virgin was appalling. Then the local madam finds a 14 year old, poor, illiterate girl for him. He goes to see her and finds her asleep because she had been so afraid she had to be sedated. Although he doesn't have sex with her because she's asleep, he describes her naked body in detail - describing her pre-pubescent breasts, etc. It was disgusting and disturbing.
This book wasn't written in a time when this was even discreetly acceptable, it was written in 2004 when it is considered by most societies, certainly Garcia-Marquez's society as taboo. He did it to shock and titillate - well all it did was disgust me. He's a brilliant writer, he doesn't need these gimmicks.
Chapter 1 in particular, when the narrator describes how upon turning 90 he decided he wanted to have sex with a young virgin was appalling. Then the local madam finds a 14 year old, poor, illiterate girl for him. He goes to see her and finds her asleep because she had been so afraid she had to be sedated. Although he doesn't have sex with her because she's asleep, he describes her naked body in detail - describing her pre-pubescent breasts, etc. It was disgusting and disturbing.
This book wasn't written in a time when this was even discreetly acceptable, it was written in 2004 when it is considered by most societies, certainly Garcia-Marquez's society as taboo. He did it to shock and titillate - well all it did was disgust me. He's a brilliant writer, he doesn't need these gimmicks.
March 7, 2020
On a certain level, I truly enjoyed "Memories of My Melancholy Whores". I am always ready to be swept up in the simple whimsy of G.G.M's language, and the sweeping romance and dramatic emotion of his work always appeals to me. But on another very real level I found this book disturbing and sexist.
The book's theme is strikingly reminiscent of "Talk to Her", a recent Almodovar film. Both deal with men who build flowery romantic/erotic relationships in their minds with a completely passive sleeping woman. In the film, the man in question is a nurse in a hospital caring for an accomplished ballerina who is in a coma. In "Melancholy Whores", the "lover" is a man who has just turned ninety and falls in love with a 14 year old prostitute who he visits every night while she sleeps deeply (possibly drugged).
If you choose to put aside the creepy elements and focus on the romantic sentiment and poetic pedestal that Delgadina (the name the old man invents for his nameless "whore") is placed atop, the book is a very beautiful reflection on the need for love and the degradations of aging. If you can't put is aside, this is a story of a strange pedophilic attachment that certainly should not be romanticized.
Both the Almodovar film and this book romanticize and rhapsodize about the perfectly passive woman-- a woman as little more than an object-- and construct fantasy relationships with someone who never speaks, or even opens her eyes. I once saw an issue of Hustler that had this photo of "The Ideal Woman". She had Jack Daniels coming out of one nipple, and milk out of the other. Guacamole issued from her nether regions and stuffed in her mouth was a tampon. The caption explained that since this woman menstruated from her mouth she was completely silent for about a week every month. This is, of course, disgustingly crude, but take away the frills of magical realism and I feel like "Memories of My Melancholy Whores" is not that different.
There are definite high points. The protagonist's reflections on aging were sharp and funny. The epic nature of the love described in the text whips you away on a Sleeping Beauty/Beauty and the Beast fairy-tale romance that evokes true punch-in-the-stomach emotion.
But in the end, this "princess" is a pre-pubescent prostitute who slaves away sewing on buttons all day to take care of her family and spends her nights fondled and admired by an aged delusional "beast", who will never take her away from reality in princely fashion. In the end, for me anyway, the ick factor breaks the spell.
The book's theme is strikingly reminiscent of "Talk to Her", a recent Almodovar film. Both deal with men who build flowery romantic/erotic relationships in their minds with a completely passive sleeping woman. In the film, the man in question is a nurse in a hospital caring for an accomplished ballerina who is in a coma. In "Melancholy Whores", the "lover" is a man who has just turned ninety and falls in love with a 14 year old prostitute who he visits every night while she sleeps deeply (possibly drugged).
If you choose to put aside the creepy elements and focus on the romantic sentiment and poetic pedestal that Delgadina (the name the old man invents for his nameless "whore") is placed atop, the book is a very beautiful reflection on the need for love and the degradations of aging. If you can't put is aside, this is a story of a strange pedophilic attachment that certainly should not be romanticized.
Both the Almodovar film and this book romanticize and rhapsodize about the perfectly passive woman-- a woman as little more than an object-- and construct fantasy relationships with someone who never speaks, or even opens her eyes. I once saw an issue of Hustler that had this photo of "The Ideal Woman". She had Jack Daniels coming out of one nipple, and milk out of the other. Guacamole issued from her nether regions and stuffed in her mouth was a tampon. The caption explained that since this woman menstruated from her mouth she was completely silent for about a week every month. This is, of course, disgustingly crude, but take away the frills of magical realism and I feel like "Memories of My Melancholy Whores" is not that different.
There are definite high points. The protagonist's reflections on aging were sharp and funny. The epic nature of the love described in the text whips you away on a Sleeping Beauty/Beauty and the Beast fairy-tale romance that evokes true punch-in-the-stomach emotion.
But in the end, this "princess" is a pre-pubescent prostitute who slaves away sewing on buttons all day to take care of her family and spends her nights fondled and admired by an aged delusional "beast", who will never take her away from reality in princely fashion. In the end, for me anyway, the ick factor breaks the spell.
July 13, 2023
- هل احب جابرييل جارسيا قصة "الجميلات النائمات" لهذه الدرجة؟ هل بقيت امنيته في ان يكون كاتب تلك القصة غصة في حلقه؟ ام انه اصابه الهوس بها فأسقطها على حياته (او حياة بطله) وعاشها ليحس بتلك اللذة؟!!.. لا ادري..
- الفكرة هي ذاتها من "الجميلات النائمات"، لكنها هنا تطفو على السطح، بدون اي عمق او بعد... رشّ عليها الكثير من الواقعية الوجودية، وزينها بذكرياتٍ تنتقل بين عاهرة واخرى!!
- هل عرف الحب عند بلوغه التسعين عاماً؟! ايمكن لمن عاش بين احضان العاهرات ان يبقى بمقدوره ان يحب! ام هي الشفقة على الذات والخوف من الموت وحيداً؟ او ربما الهلع من اقتراب الموت السريع والتمتع بآخر لحظات الحياة؟! او هي العودة على بدء وتحسس جسد مراهقة قد بدأت تتفتح ازهارها؟!!
- لنرى دور المرأة في هذه الرواية: هناك عاهرة، وعاهرة قديمة وقوادة وعاهرة اخرى.. حتى العذراء كان ينام بجانبها في بيت دعارة!!... هذه نظرة سيئة للنساء ودونية وظلم لا يمكن ان يقبل به.
- بالنهاية رواية لابأس بها، لكنها سيئة جداً لماركيز!
- الفكرة هي ذاتها من "الجميلات النائمات"، لكنها هنا تطفو على السطح، بدون اي عمق او بعد... رشّ عليها الكثير من الواقعية الوجودية، وزينها بذكرياتٍ تنتقل بين عاهرة واخرى!!
- هل عرف الحب عند بلوغه التسعين عاماً؟! ايمكن لمن عاش بين احضان العاهرات ان يبقى بمقدوره ان يحب! ام هي الشفقة على الذات والخوف من الموت وحيداً؟ او ربما الهلع من اقتراب الموت السريع والتمتع بآخر لحظات الحياة؟! او هي العودة على بدء وتحسس جسد مراهقة قد بدأت تتفتح ازهارها؟!!
- لنرى دور المرأة في هذه الرواية: هناك عاهرة، وعاهرة قديمة وقوادة وعاهرة اخرى.. حتى العذراء كان ينام بجانبها في بيت دعارة!!... هذه نظرة سيئة للنساء ودونية وظلم لا يمكن ان يقبل به.
- بالنهاية رواية لابأس بها، لكنها سيئة جداً لماركيز!
May 23, 2024
«No ano dos meus noventa anos quis oferecer a mim mesmo uma noite de amor louco com uma adolescente virgem.», assim começa este livro.
Ao encontrar essa adolescente virgem, uma bela adormecida, - o escritor ( é essa a sua profissão) descobre aos 90 anos o que é dormir com uma mulher sem a necessidade de sexo.
Um homem que começou por apresentar-se como alguém que nunca foi para a cama com nenhuma mulher sem lhe pagar e que convencia as poucas que não eram da profissão pela razão ou pela força a que recebessem o dinheiro nem que fosse para o deitar ao lixo.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez conta com mérito, brilho e humor, bem à maneira dos escritores sul-americanos, esta história de amor muito bem enquadrada na vida social e política da Colômbia dos anos vinte do século passado, numa época que os homens iniciavam a sua vida sexual com prostitutas.
Em minha opinião, uma homenagem a essas mulheres.
Ao encontrar essa adolescente virgem, uma bela adormecida, - o escritor ( é essa a sua profissão) descobre aos 90 anos o que é dormir com uma mulher sem a necessidade de sexo.
Um homem que começou por apresentar-se como alguém que nunca foi para a cama com nenhuma mulher sem lhe pagar e que convencia as poucas que não eram da profissão pela razão ou pela força a que recebessem o dinheiro nem que fosse para o deitar ao lixo.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez conta com mérito, brilho e humor, bem à maneira dos escritores sul-americanos, esta história de amor muito bem enquadrada na vida social e política da Colômbia dos anos vinte do século passado, numa época que os homens iniciavam a sua vida sexual com prostitutas.
Em minha opinião, uma homenagem a essas mulheres.
May 25, 2015
A Latin-American "Lolita" Lite or: Don't Let The Title Scare You (This Isn't A Dirty Old Man Book)
It’s been years since I've read anything by Gabriel García Márquez, and so this little book, while not as grand, sweeping or substantial as the works that earned him the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982, came as a lovely, gentle surprise.
Reading it felt like catching up with a grizzled old friend who can tell a mean story. García Márquez’s seductive writing has a perfumed air of nostalgia and romance about it. Once sniffed, it's impossible to tear yourself away.
Take the book’s remarkable opening line:
“The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin.”
The unnamed narrator isn’t as lecherous as he sounds. He’s “ugly, shy, and anachronistic,” a journalist who used to rewrite wire copy and now supplements his income by teaching Spanish lessons and penning a newspaper column. He never married (although he was once engaged), and doesn’t have any children. And, until now, he’s never been in love.
Yes, this is a story about a man who’s gone nearly a century without finding love. And now, old, wrinkled, his joints (and other things) creaky, he falls. With passion. And frustration. And jealousy. But absolutely no regrets.
The object of his love isn’t all that important in the book. She’s kept intentionally vague, often seen sleeping (she works at a factory sewing on buttons), her tired back usually turned to the narrator. We're not even told her real name, although the narrator calls her “Delgadina,” after the lyrics of a favourite song.
The fact is, the burst of energy the man gets from his (rather chaste) relationship with Delgadina suddenly gives his life meaning and purpose. His columns, many of them now about love, become famous in town; radio hosts read them to thousands of listeners. He gets the nickname “the maestro of love.” People recognize him on the streets.
García Márquez's powers of description are as strong as ever. The pacing is impeccable. Several characters – from the brothel madame, Rosa Cabarcas, to the narrator's hard-working, tireless maid – snap to life in a few sharp sentences and lines of dialogue. As a 90th birthday present, the old man is given an old cat, who pads his way through a few scenes without becoming too obvious a symbol. In one heartbreaking episode the narrator hooks up with an old sexual partner and instead of getting physical, they talk honestly about their lives and their age, which feels even more intimate than sex.
There's not one wasted word. García Márquez has distilled his art to its very essence. One caveat: If you're too young, you may not get as much out of this. You need to have chalked up some regrets. It's one of those "the unexamined life is not worth living" books.
Prepare to think about your own history of love. To be nostalgic for a time and place you never even knew. To laugh and weep over the surprises, joys and melancholic moments of a long, fully inhabited life.
It’s been years since I've read anything by Gabriel García Márquez, and so this little book, while not as grand, sweeping or substantial as the works that earned him the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982, came as a lovely, gentle surprise.
Reading it felt like catching up with a grizzled old friend who can tell a mean story. García Márquez’s seductive writing has a perfumed air of nostalgia and romance about it. Once sniffed, it's impossible to tear yourself away.
Take the book’s remarkable opening line:
“The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin.”
The unnamed narrator isn’t as lecherous as he sounds. He’s “ugly, shy, and anachronistic,” a journalist who used to rewrite wire copy and now supplements his income by teaching Spanish lessons and penning a newspaper column. He never married (although he was once engaged), and doesn’t have any children. And, until now, he’s never been in love.
Yes, this is a story about a man who’s gone nearly a century without finding love. And now, old, wrinkled, his joints (and other things) creaky, he falls. With passion. And frustration. And jealousy. But absolutely no regrets.
The object of his love isn’t all that important in the book. She’s kept intentionally vague, often seen sleeping (she works at a factory sewing on buttons), her tired back usually turned to the narrator. We're not even told her real name, although the narrator calls her “Delgadina,” after the lyrics of a favourite song.
The fact is, the burst of energy the man gets from his (rather chaste) relationship with Delgadina suddenly gives his life meaning and purpose. His columns, many of them now about love, become famous in town; radio hosts read them to thousands of listeners. He gets the nickname “the maestro of love.” People recognize him on the streets.
García Márquez's powers of description are as strong as ever. The pacing is impeccable. Several characters – from the brothel madame, Rosa Cabarcas, to the narrator's hard-working, tireless maid – snap to life in a few sharp sentences and lines of dialogue. As a 90th birthday present, the old man is given an old cat, who pads his way through a few scenes without becoming too obvious a symbol. In one heartbreaking episode the narrator hooks up with an old sexual partner and instead of getting physical, they talk honestly about their lives and their age, which feels even more intimate than sex.
There's not one wasted word. García Márquez has distilled his art to its very essence. One caveat: If you're too young, you may not get as much out of this. You need to have chalked up some regrets. It's one of those "the unexamined life is not worth living" books.
Prepare to think about your own history of love. To be nostalgic for a time and place you never even knew. To laugh and weep over the surprises, joys and melancholic moments of a long, fully inhabited life.
August 26, 2025
Uf, lo siento pero es un NO rotundo.
Me ha sabido a poco, me ha parecido que solo fue publicada por el simple renombre de García Márquez y ya está. Es más, no me ha sabido a nada. Para eso mejor leerse Lolita o La carne, que son dos novelas que exploran los temas que aquí se han tratado de forma superficial y con un tono muy de romantizar cosas que no puedo.
De hecho, Lolita lo hizo más que bien (aunque luego haya sido malinterpretada por el público general); que estando narrada por la mente de un pedófilo/pederasta no deja de ser una historia que te interpela constantemente y La carne que narra sobre el paso del tiempo y la vejez, y el cómo la protagonista se toma esa situación que se torna complicada en todo sentido para ella en muchos aspectos.
Esas dos son historias mucho mejor contadas, y además con un tono de crítica muy punzante que siempre está allí. En cambio, esta novelita no se acerca a eso y García Márquez tiene mejores novelas sin duda alguna.
Me ha sabido a poco, me ha parecido que solo fue publicada por el simple renombre de García Márquez y ya está. Es más, no me ha sabido a nada. Para eso mejor leerse Lolita o La carne, que son dos novelas que exploran los temas que aquí se han tratado de forma superficial y con un tono muy de romantizar cosas que no puedo.
De hecho, Lolita lo hizo más que bien (aunque luego haya sido malinterpretada por el público general); que estando narrada por la mente de un pedófilo/pederasta no deja de ser una historia que te interpela constantemente y La carne que narra sobre el paso del tiempo y la vejez, y el cómo la protagonista se toma esa situación que se torna complicada en todo sentido para ella en muchos aspectos.
Esas dos son historias mucho mejor contadas, y además con un tono de crítica muy punzante que siempre está allí. En cambio, esta novelita no se acerca a eso y García Márquez tiene mejores novelas sin duda alguna.
August 10, 2018
"The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin."
Love him, hate him. You got to give García Márquez some credit: The man can write an opening line. And so begins an intriguing story of a man who finally falls in love at the ripe age of 90 with a 14-year-old prostitute. If you're familiar with García Márquez's oeuvre of work, prostitution and underage sex would be just a walk in the park for most. However, I must warn you of these themes if you cannot stomach it.
I'd call this "Sleeping Beauty with a Márquez twist". The subject matter may be difficult to discuss considering that we, as a society, have constantly frowned at sex and its association with the elderly. No, it isn't the erotic fantasy of a dirty old man. The narrative has its sensuality, and a tragic sense of heart-rendering passion that is always unfulfilled, yet it is still wholesome at the core. I'd definitely recommend this for an evening read as it is a relatively short story.
Love him, hate him. You got to give García Márquez some credit: The man can write an opening line. And so begins an intriguing story of a man who finally falls in love at the ripe age of 90 with a 14-year-old prostitute. If you're familiar with García Márquez's oeuvre of work, prostitution and underage sex would be just a walk in the park for most. However, I must warn you of these themes if you cannot stomach it.
I'd call this "Sleeping Beauty with a Márquez twist". The subject matter may be difficult to discuss considering that we, as a society, have constantly frowned at sex and its association with the elderly. No, it isn't the erotic fantasy of a dirty old man. The narrative has its sensuality, and a tragic sense of heart-rendering passion that is always unfulfilled, yet it is still wholesome at the core. I'd definitely recommend this for an evening read as it is a relatively short story.
March 9, 2015
پیرمردی که می خواهد جشن نود سالگی اش را با شکوه برگزار کند تا طعم تلخ تنهایی را فراموش کند
او گوشی را بر میدارد و زنگ می زند. زن پشت تلفن، پیرمرد را بیاد می آورد و پیرمرد آنچه را میخواسته، به او میگوید
همه چیز خوب پیش می رود و پیرمرد گوشی را میگذارد.قرار است برای شب تولدش، با دختری 14 ساله و باکره همخوابگی کند
ولی این هوس با هوس های دیگر سال های جوانی و میانسالی اش فرق دارد
و این بار عشق است که هوس را به زانو در می آورد
زندگی هدیه تولد غیر منتظره ای برای پیرمرد دارد
درک زیبایی زندگی ، آنهم زمانی که فرصت زیادی نمانده
این بار از روی عادت، ریشش را هر صبح اصلاح نمی کند
بلکه برای دخترک است
و همه کارهایش برای این زیباروست
نوشته هایش در ستونی از روزنامه بوی عشق می گیرد و طرفدار پیدا میکند
این رمان منو یاد جمله هایی از وصیت نامه مارکز انداخت
به همه ثابت می کردم
که انسان ها به دلیل پیر شدن نیست که دیگر عاشق نمی شوند
بلکه زمانی پیر می شوند که دیگر عاشق نمی شوند
....
مارکز گفته بود که آرزو داشت نویسنده کتاب" خانه زیبارویان خفته" باشد و شاید این کتاب را به تقلید از فضای آن نوشته
پیرمردی در برابر دختران جوان
البته کمی متفاوتتر
.......
امروز که نگاهی به کتاب انداختم
قبل از شروع این را نوشته
زن مهمانخانه دار به اگوچی پیر هشدار داد: هیچ کار زشتی نباید بکنی.مبادا انگشت توی دهن زن خوابیده یا یک کار دیگه ای شبیه بکنی
یاسوناری کاواباتا،خانه مهرویان خفته
پس مارکز این کتاب را بخاطر عشقش به کتاب خانه زیبارویان خفته نوشته
او گوشی را بر میدارد و زنگ می زند. زن پشت تلفن، پیرمرد را بیاد می آورد و پیرمرد آنچه را میخواسته، به او میگوید
همه چیز خوب پیش می رود و پیرمرد گوشی را میگذارد.قرار است برای شب تولدش، با دختری 14 ساله و باکره همخوابگی کند
ولی این هوس با هوس های دیگر سال های جوانی و میانسالی اش فرق دارد
و این بار عشق است که هوس را به زانو در می آورد
زندگی هدیه تولد غیر منتظره ای برای پیرمرد دارد
درک زیبایی زندگی ، آنهم زمانی که فرصت زیادی نمانده
این بار از روی عادت، ریشش را هر صبح اصلاح نمی کند
بلکه برای دخترک است
و همه کارهایش برای این زیباروست
نوشته هایش در ستونی از روزنامه بوی عشق می گیرد و طرفدار پیدا میکند
این رمان منو یاد جمله هایی از وصیت نامه مارکز انداخت
به همه ثابت می کردم
که انسان ها به دلیل پیر شدن نیست که دیگر عاشق نمی شوند
بلکه زمانی پیر می شوند که دیگر عاشق نمی شوند
....
مارکز گفته بود که آرزو داشت نویسنده کتاب" خانه زیبارویان خفته" باشد و شاید این کتاب را به تقلید از فضای آن نوشته
پیرمردی در برابر دختران جوان
البته کمی متفاوتتر
.......
امروز که نگاهی به کتاب انداختم
قبل از شروع این را نوشته
زن مهمانخانه دار به اگوچی پیر هشدار داد: هیچ کار زشتی نباید بکنی.مبادا انگشت توی دهن زن خوابیده یا یک کار دیگه ای شبیه بکنی
یاسوناری کاواباتا،خانه مهرویان خفته
پس مارکز این کتاب را بخاطر عشقش به کتاب خانه زیبارویان خفته نوشته
November 4, 2023
با حس های مختلفی " خاطره ی دلبرکان غمگین من" رو خوندم، حس بد انزجار از لذت طلبی پیرمردی در آستانه ی مرگ، باور امید به زندگی و ادامه دادن، غم دیر رسیدن به درک زمان، حسرت از دست دادن فرصت ها و آرزوهایی که اگه در زمان خودشون محقق نشن، ی جوری بیات میشن که دیگه هیچ وقت با رنگ و لعاب و دلخوشی ای که دلمون میخواد، ممکن نمیشن و معنا پیدا نمیکنن...
با خوندن حس و حال روزنامه نگار نود ساله، فکر کردم که شاید حق با گلی ترقی باشه:
" می خواستم همه کارهایم را بکنم و سر فرصت به دنبال او بروم.می خواستم اول، دنیا را عوض کنم، کتاب هایم را بنویسم، اسم و رسم به هم بزنم، برنده شوم و بعد با دست های پر به دنبالش بروم، خبر نداشتم که عشق منتظر آدم ها نمی ماند... "
و این از دست رفتن ها رو میشه به عمر، آرزوها، زندگی،... و همه ی لذت ها و خواسته های کوچیک و بزرگ دنیا تعمیم داد.
اما در نهایت، بین امیدواری ها، اشتیاق و حسرت های این شوگرددی نوشکفته ی نمادین، نتیجه گیری هام کمی بهم ریخته که بالاخره زود دیر میشه؟ یا دیر اومدی نخواه زود برو؟ یا کلا هیچ وقت برای هیچ چیز دیر نیست؟🫠🤔
با خوندن حس و حال روزنامه نگار نود ساله، فکر کردم که شاید حق با گلی ترقی باشه:
" می خواستم همه کارهایم را بکنم و سر فرصت به دنبال او بروم.می خواستم اول، دنیا را عوض کنم، کتاب هایم را بنویسم، اسم و رسم به هم بزنم، برنده شوم و بعد با دست های پر به دنبالش بروم، خبر نداشتم که عشق منتظر آدم ها نمی ماند... "
و این از دست رفتن ها رو میشه به عمر، آرزوها، زندگی،... و همه ی لذت ها و خواسته های کوچیک و بزرگ دنیا تعمیم داد.
اما در نهایت، بین امیدواری ها، اشتیاق و حسرت های این شوگرددی نوشکفته ی نمادین، نتیجه گیری هام کمی بهم ریخته که بالاخره زود دیر میشه؟ یا دیر اومدی نخواه زود برو؟ یا کلا هیچ وقت برای هیچ چیز دیر نیست؟🫠🤔
September 4, 2015
دیدگاه صمیمی و روشن و در عین حال، شدیداً شاعرانه ی گابریل گارسیا مارکز، همیشه من رو به تحسین و شگفتی وا میداره.
بین نویسنده های وطنی، رایج شده که هر کس بخواد دیدی روشنفکرانه و عمیق به زندگی داشته باشه، حتماً باید این دید تاریک و تلخ باشه. مارکز نشون میده که میشه بدون تلخ اندیشی و بدون دپرس کردن خواننده، دیدی عمیق - و زیبا - به زندگی داشت. تا جایی که حتا وقتی از وحشت از مرگ سخن میگه، شما رو با شیرین ترین و رنگارنگ ترین رؤیاها رو به رو میکنه.
رمان رو میتونید از اینجا دانلود کنید:
http://dl.yasbooks.com/roman/romane%2...
بین نویسنده های وطنی، رایج شده که هر کس بخواد دیدی روشنفکرانه و عمیق به زندگی داشته باشه، حتماً باید این دید تاریک و تلخ باشه. مارکز نشون میده که میشه بدون تلخ اندیشی و بدون دپرس کردن خواننده، دیدی عمیق - و زیبا - به زندگی داشت. تا جایی که حتا وقتی از وحشت از مرگ سخن میگه، شما رو با شیرین ترین و رنگارنگ ترین رؤیاها رو به رو میکنه.
رمان رو میتونید از اینجا دانلود کنید:
http://dl.yasbooks.com/roman/romane%2...
October 7, 2022
For his 90th birthday, a man wants to sleep with a young virgin. But, unfortunately, the brothel he has already frequented offers him a 14-year-old girl.
The plot is cash; I would even say trash. But, on the other hand, it is a concise book and reads very quickly - nothing to be ecstatic about in front of this book.
The plot is cash; I would even say trash. But, on the other hand, it is a concise book and reads very quickly - nothing to be ecstatic about in front of this book.
November 8, 2021
Reading Gabriel García Márquez, known as "Gabo" to his friends, is like visiting a loveable rogue.
We all know the type: a little too loud, profane to the point of creating cringes in his followers, laughing at all the wrong jokes - most of them told himself, drinking too much, with a wild and flamboyant reputation, and yet all around him are rolled eyes and smiles and laughter. For this lover of life, for this fornicator of all things human, yet with a piety whose sincerity is questioned again and again and over and again found intact, this trickster god; we are willing to forgive and forgive and forget and laugh and smile. He is a devil, but he is our devil.
Gabo is to Latin American literature as Harry Caray was to Cubs fans.
So, we come to his 2004 novella Memories of My Melancholy Whores. Published when he was 77, this tells the story of an old bachelor journalist who, a frequenter of brothels and a customer of prostitutes for decades, on the eve of his 90th birthday arranges to meet a 14-year-old virgin prostitute.
Now, I lost some of you right there. But wait.
Many of you have read my review of Nabokov’s Lolita. His 1955 novel, brilliantly written, is about pedophilia. It is. It’s a wonderful book of literature with an outrageously unrepentant subject. Many will never know the genius poured into every page because they cannot, and understandably so, get past the story and its monster narrator.
This is not Lolita.
Yes, our protagonist makes this arrangement and has as such his intent. But then something else happens.
I have been accused before of spoilers in my reviews and for this I apologize and here I will be extra cautious because I do not want the readers of this exceptional short work, and I want to encourage its reading, to miss out on the fragile blooming flower that occurs in the brief telling.
Yes, there is an outrageous subject, and yes this represents a real-life crime whose real-life victims are young girls who should be protected. It does not make this subject more palatable that Márquez uses his charming mastery of language and of his description of his great love for life. But what he describes is not sex with a child.
I cannot say more except that Márquez has, in his own mischievous way, given us a glimpse into a love that is timeless and a hope that even into old age, we can continue to greet each sunrise with a wink and a nod, a song and even a dance. And love.
We all know the type: a little too loud, profane to the point of creating cringes in his followers, laughing at all the wrong jokes - most of them told himself, drinking too much, with a wild and flamboyant reputation, and yet all around him are rolled eyes and smiles and laughter. For this lover of life, for this fornicator of all things human, yet with a piety whose sincerity is questioned again and again and over and again found intact, this trickster god; we are willing to forgive and forgive and forget and laugh and smile. He is a devil, but he is our devil.
Gabo is to Latin American literature as Harry Caray was to Cubs fans.
So, we come to his 2004 novella Memories of My Melancholy Whores. Published when he was 77, this tells the story of an old bachelor journalist who, a frequenter of brothels and a customer of prostitutes for decades, on the eve of his 90th birthday arranges to meet a 14-year-old virgin prostitute.
Now, I lost some of you right there. But wait.
Many of you have read my review of Nabokov’s Lolita. His 1955 novel, brilliantly written, is about pedophilia. It is. It’s a wonderful book of literature with an outrageously unrepentant subject. Many will never know the genius poured into every page because they cannot, and understandably so, get past the story and its monster narrator.
This is not Lolita.
Yes, our protagonist makes this arrangement and has as such his intent. But then something else happens.
I have been accused before of spoilers in my reviews and for this I apologize and here I will be extra cautious because I do not want the readers of this exceptional short work, and I want to encourage its reading, to miss out on the fragile blooming flower that occurs in the brief telling.
Yes, there is an outrageous subject, and yes this represents a real-life crime whose real-life victims are young girls who should be protected. It does not make this subject more palatable that Márquez uses his charming mastery of language and of his description of his great love for life. But what he describes is not sex with a child.
I cannot say more except that Márquez has, in his own mischievous way, given us a glimpse into a love that is timeless and a hope that even into old age, we can continue to greet each sunrise with a wink and a nod, a song and even a dance. And love.
October 25, 2017
Español - English
Este señor sin nombre nunca se ha enamorado, pero sí ha tenido mucho sexo casual, casi siempre con prostitutas. Mantiene una larga relación de negocios con la dueña del prostíbulo que frecuenta. Es por esto que en la víspera de sus noventa años la llama y le solicita algo inusual: quiere celebrar su cumpleaños con una jovencita que sea virgen.
Nunca se ha casado ni ha hecho grandes cambios en su vida: vive en la casa de su familia donde se crió y tiene su trabajo de publicar una columna en el periódico dominical desde hace décadas. Debido a la escasez de dinero su vida es cada vez más precaria. Ha vendido casi todo lo vendible de su otrora buena bonanza familiar y termina sus días siendo realmente pobre.
Cuando conoce a su joven virgen ella está dormida y así es siempre porque la drogan un poco para que le sea más fácil perder la virginidad. En algún momento ella entre sueños le responde algo y él se da cuenta que la prefiere dormida. El se enamora de la joven que él llama Delgadina, pero de la que nunca conoce su nombre. Y este amor platónico lo hace hacer cosas que nunca ha hecho o se ha resistido hacer, cómo cambiar los temas que trata en sus publicaciones y en unos meses que se dejan de ver, desesperado la busca en bicicleta en todos los sitios donde cree poder encontrarla.
Sinceramente creo esta novela solo fue publicada porque la escribió Gabriel García Márquez.
✨✨✨
This man without name has never fallen in love, but he has had a lot of casual sex, almost always with prostitutes. He maintains a long business relationship with the owner of the brothel he frequents. That is why on the eve of his ninety years he calls her and asks for something unusual: he wants to celebrate his birthday with a young virgin.
He has never married or made any big changes in his life: he lives in his family's home where he grew up and has his job as a writer of a column in the Sunday newspaper for decades. Due to the shortage of money his life is becoming more precarious. He has sold almost everything marketable of his once good family bonanza and ends his days being really poor.
When he meets his young virgin she is asleep and is always like that because the brothel's owner drug her a little to make it easier for her to lose her virginity. At some point she between dreams responds something and he realizes that he prefers her sleeping. He falls in love with the girl he calls Delgadina, but he never knows her name. And this platonic love makes him do things that he has never done or has resisted doing, like change the themes in his publications and in a few months that he is not seeing her, desperate he would ride a bike and look for her in all the places where he thinks he can find her.
I sincerely believe this novella was only published because it was written by Gabriel García Márquez.
Este señor sin nombre nunca se ha enamorado, pero sí ha tenido mucho sexo casual, casi siempre con prostitutas. Mantiene una larga relación de negocios con la dueña del prostíbulo que frecuenta. Es por esto que en la víspera de sus noventa años la llama y le solicita algo inusual: quiere celebrar su cumpleaños con una jovencita que sea virgen.
Nunca se ha casado ni ha hecho grandes cambios en su vida: vive en la casa de su familia donde se crió y tiene su trabajo de publicar una columna en el periódico dominical desde hace décadas. Debido a la escasez de dinero su vida es cada vez más precaria. Ha vendido casi todo lo vendible de su otrora buena bonanza familiar y termina sus días siendo realmente pobre.
Cuando conoce a su joven virgen ella está dormida y así es siempre porque la drogan un poco para que le sea más fácil perder la virginidad. En algún momento ella entre sueños le responde algo y él se da cuenta que la prefiere dormida. El se enamora de la joven que él llama Delgadina, pero de la que nunca conoce su nombre. Y este amor platónico lo hace hacer cosas que nunca ha hecho o se ha resistido hacer, cómo cambiar los temas que trata en sus publicaciones y en unos meses que se dejan de ver, desesperado la busca en bicicleta en todos los sitios donde cree poder encontrarla.
Sinceramente creo esta novela solo fue publicada porque la escribió Gabriel García Márquez.
✨✨✨
This man without name has never fallen in love, but he has had a lot of casual sex, almost always with prostitutes. He maintains a long business relationship with the owner of the brothel he frequents. That is why on the eve of his ninety years he calls her and asks for something unusual: he wants to celebrate his birthday with a young virgin.
He has never married or made any big changes in his life: he lives in his family's home where he grew up and has his job as a writer of a column in the Sunday newspaper for decades. Due to the shortage of money his life is becoming more precarious. He has sold almost everything marketable of his once good family bonanza and ends his days being really poor.
When he meets his young virgin she is asleep and is always like that because the brothel's owner drug her a little to make it easier for her to lose her virginity. At some point she between dreams responds something and he realizes that he prefers her sleeping. He falls in love with the girl he calls Delgadina, but he never knows her name. And this platonic love makes him do things that he has never done or has resisted doing, like change the themes in his publications and in a few months that he is not seeing her, desperate he would ride a bike and look for her in all the places where he thinks he can find her.
I sincerely believe this novella was only published because it was written by Gabriel García Márquez.
December 13, 2019
Immortified
I’ve wondered for a long time how to talk to you about this. How to explain myself, if such a thing is necessary or possible. Should I even bother? Would you understand? Will you be able to see things from my point of view? Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?
Ironically, perhaps, if you believe in God, the Holy Spirit, then you might be more likely to understand me and therefore to forgive.
My desire is not so much that you understand what I have done. It’s more important that you understand who or what I am. Therein lies the path to forgiveness. It depends on understanding me, my nature, not what I do.
Perhaps, you have already reached the point where you don’t want to understand or listen to me? Anyway, I will begin my explanation now.
I have had to live with myself for 91 years. During almost every day that I can remember, I have asked myself the same questions: who am I? What am I? Perhaps you have asked yourself the same things?
Every day, I have looked at my body, I have scrutinized my mind, and I have thought that this is not the real me. I am something different.
The best way to explain this is to say, in the simplest way possible, that I am my soul. I am not my body, I am not my mind, I am my soul. I am separate from them.
Before this body and this mind, I resided in other bodies and minds. I have no way of telling how many or for how long. These things are not revealed to our souls. However, I feel confident that there have been many. Speaking to my friends and comparing pasts, I have resolved that I, my soul, am at least 5,394 years old. Sometimes I wonder why I am not older.
I’ve transitioned 15 times that I know of. It fascinates me whether the body or the mind will succumb first, but usually the time between deaths is not long. It doesn't really matter. The important thing is to be close to another carrier, so that I can embark on the next stage of my journey.
With all due modesty, I’ve inhabited some pretty special humans, some merely from the point of view of their minds, some from the point of view of their bodies.
Still, it’s difficult for a soul to relate to a mind or a body.
Bodies, in particular, seem to be driven by DNA. They want to fuck all the time. When they’re not fucking, they’re thinking about fucking. Well, in that case, their minds are thinking about fucking. At least, that’s a pretty fair description of the males I’ve inhabited. The females aren’t as bad, but, to be honest, they’re not that much better. Certainly they’re not as virtuous as they would have you believe.
I’m 90, almost 91 now, in body years. Ironically, Delgadina is only fourteen. I say ironically, because in soul years, she is older than me, not by much, she’s 5,678 years old. She’s had almost four extra earth experiences than I have. Nineteen versus fifteen mightn’t sound like much, but you’d be surprised.
The strange thing is that our soul age counts for nothing on earth. No matter how religious somebody might be, they still judge us by our body age, not the age of our mind or our soul.
Even though Delgadina is technically an adult at age fourteen, people still think of her as a child. Little do they know, her mind is superior to mine. Just because she speaks less than I do, doesn’t mean that she is dumber. In our most recent life before this one, she topped our college in her last year. Sometimes, for her own benefit, I wish she would speak out more in this life, so people appreciated her mind, not just her body. Perhaps, that will come with time. I'm already teaching her to read, write and paint.
We almost didn’t meet in this life. In the last, we had actually been married, but only in our seventies. She had enjoyed a long marriage. I had remained faithful, well, as best I could after 622 lovers. So many of them had been whores, but they were still women, all of them. Delgadina was determined to find out what it had been like to be one of my whores. She knew me well enough, after four earth relationships, to know that the best way to get my undivided attention was to manifest herself as a fourteen year old girl.
I didn’t recognise her at first. She was promised to me. Well, her virginity was. Several times, we went through a ritual whereby I was supposed to deflower her. Each time, I slept next to her, and did nothing but caress her or kiss each centimeter of her body. It was as if my 90 year old body wasn’t up to the task, whatever the capacity of my mind, let alone my soul. I even began to question myself, which was a first for me.
People judge me as if I have done something wrong. Sometimes I wonder if they imagine that I have done only what they would like to have done, or in Delgadina’s position, might have wanted me to do to them.
I wonder whether these people know what it means to be a soul. To be condemned to live forever (although is it really such a condemnation?). To wander from body to body in search of another soul. To, at last, find a soul to whom you can relate, let alone, in my case, one who coincidentally I have loved before.
These are things that mean something to you in eternity. True love. Not whether one of you is 90 or 14. These are just numbers. Notches. Hands that move in a circular fashion around the watch face of time. They mean nothing to someone, to two lovers, like us, whose soul lives have already lasted almost six millennia and show no signs of giving up.
When I think of Delgadina, I don’t think of her legs, her breasts, her lips, even her mind, these things that somehow I have touched or kissed. Instead, I think of her soul. Meanwhile, she smiles when she thinks of how much more experience of life she has had than me. If only I could die now and start another life ahead of her. But, vain man that I am, I have resolved that, in this life at least, I want to see out a century. It comforts me that, when I lie awake in bed, sometimes I can derive some pleasure from observing her naked, legs apart, breasts spread across her chest, dreaming of me, her 90 year old stallion.
Playboy Seeks Sex Toy
The more I read Marquez' post-Nobel Prize works, the more I'm convinced that his modus operandi is to invent characters and situations that will outrage many, if not most, readers.
Here, a sexually-active nonagenarian is offered a fledgling 14 year old virgin whore to celebrate his birthday.
Whether or not he deflowers the girl, whether or not he might only have watched the girl sleeping, he would be condemned by the reader. Society objects not just to the act, but to both the desire and the intention.
The problem is that Marquez employs beautiful language in his enterprise.
In fact, I've always suspected that, as I suspect of Nabokov, he writes a straightforward tale of love and sex, then, only then, twists or perverts it, by adding an element of the forbidden, the taboo, the immoral, the illegal.
Without the perversion, it would be a work of beauty. What happens when he tweaks the ages of the participants? Would a story of love and sex involving a 40 year old male and a 30 year old female be acceptable? Well, what happens when the age of the male is dialled up to 90 and the girl down to 14?
Something in our minds registers, this should not be happening, something is wrong.
Marquez might not explicitly ask, why is it wrong. He might not be expressly challenging morality. It exists, whether we like it or not.
However, I think he is asking us whether, as a work of art, it is any less beautiful because it is transgressive.
Part of what he is doing is questioning the aesthetic nature of transgression.
The novel is inspired by Kawabata's "House of the Sleeping Beauties", which I hadn't read when I read this novel.
In the epigraph from that book, old Eguchi is warned by the madam not to do anything in bad taste. The specific caveat is not to "put his finger into the mouth of the sleeping girl".
Different things are forbidden at different times and in different cultures.
The act of writing the novel doesn't mean that Marquez advocates child abuse in real life. He just wants to ask these questions and explore these issues within the realm of art.
Again, like Nabokov, he wants to treat art and literature as a playground. He wants to explore not just desire and intention, but the imagination as well.
By doing so, he asks of the reader that we suspend moral judgment and engage pure aesthetic judgment. Not all of us will want to, not all of us will be able to.
In this way, he doesn't just confront us with his subject matter, he confronts us with our own temperaments. He utilises the response of the reader as part of his creative enterprise.
His works are all the greater, because they involve and implicate us.
VERSE:
Angels Surround the Bed of Delgadina
Let us share a bed.
You can sleep if you need to.
I'm content to watch.
Breathless
I kissed your body.
I inhaled your wild fragrance.
It made me breathless.
Dear Girl
I'll write words for you.
"We are alone in the world."
I'll teach you to read.
The Abominable No-Man
It does more damage
For authors to write in chains
Than to write freely.
SOUNDTRACK:
Memories of My Melancholy Whores (Title Sequence)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMh3mT...
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - "Breathless"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TI8xP...
I’ve wondered for a long time how to talk to you about this. How to explain myself, if such a thing is necessary or possible. Should I even bother? Would you understand? Will you be able to see things from my point of view? Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?
Ironically, perhaps, if you believe in God, the Holy Spirit, then you might be more likely to understand me and therefore to forgive.
My desire is not so much that you understand what I have done. It’s more important that you understand who or what I am. Therein lies the path to forgiveness. It depends on understanding me, my nature, not what I do.
Perhaps, you have already reached the point where you don’t want to understand or listen to me? Anyway, I will begin my explanation now.
I have had to live with myself for 91 years. During almost every day that I can remember, I have asked myself the same questions: who am I? What am I? Perhaps you have asked yourself the same things?
Every day, I have looked at my body, I have scrutinized my mind, and I have thought that this is not the real me. I am something different.
The best way to explain this is to say, in the simplest way possible, that I am my soul. I am not my body, I am not my mind, I am my soul. I am separate from them.
Before this body and this mind, I resided in other bodies and minds. I have no way of telling how many or for how long. These things are not revealed to our souls. However, I feel confident that there have been many. Speaking to my friends and comparing pasts, I have resolved that I, my soul, am at least 5,394 years old. Sometimes I wonder why I am not older.
I’ve transitioned 15 times that I know of. It fascinates me whether the body or the mind will succumb first, but usually the time between deaths is not long. It doesn't really matter. The important thing is to be close to another carrier, so that I can embark on the next stage of my journey.
With all due modesty, I’ve inhabited some pretty special humans, some merely from the point of view of their minds, some from the point of view of their bodies.
Still, it’s difficult for a soul to relate to a mind or a body.
Bodies, in particular, seem to be driven by DNA. They want to fuck all the time. When they’re not fucking, they’re thinking about fucking. Well, in that case, their minds are thinking about fucking. At least, that’s a pretty fair description of the males I’ve inhabited. The females aren’t as bad, but, to be honest, they’re not that much better. Certainly they’re not as virtuous as they would have you believe.
I’m 90, almost 91 now, in body years. Ironically, Delgadina is only fourteen. I say ironically, because in soul years, she is older than me, not by much, she’s 5,678 years old. She’s had almost four extra earth experiences than I have. Nineteen versus fifteen mightn’t sound like much, but you’d be surprised.
The strange thing is that our soul age counts for nothing on earth. No matter how religious somebody might be, they still judge us by our body age, not the age of our mind or our soul.
Even though Delgadina is technically an adult at age fourteen, people still think of her as a child. Little do they know, her mind is superior to mine. Just because she speaks less than I do, doesn’t mean that she is dumber. In our most recent life before this one, she topped our college in her last year. Sometimes, for her own benefit, I wish she would speak out more in this life, so people appreciated her mind, not just her body. Perhaps, that will come with time. I'm already teaching her to read, write and paint.
We almost didn’t meet in this life. In the last, we had actually been married, but only in our seventies. She had enjoyed a long marriage. I had remained faithful, well, as best I could after 622 lovers. So many of them had been whores, but they were still women, all of them. Delgadina was determined to find out what it had been like to be one of my whores. She knew me well enough, after four earth relationships, to know that the best way to get my undivided attention was to manifest herself as a fourteen year old girl.
I didn’t recognise her at first. She was promised to me. Well, her virginity was. Several times, we went through a ritual whereby I was supposed to deflower her. Each time, I slept next to her, and did nothing but caress her or kiss each centimeter of her body. It was as if my 90 year old body wasn’t up to the task, whatever the capacity of my mind, let alone my soul. I even began to question myself, which was a first for me.
People judge me as if I have done something wrong. Sometimes I wonder if they imagine that I have done only what they would like to have done, or in Delgadina’s position, might have wanted me to do to them.
I wonder whether these people know what it means to be a soul. To be condemned to live forever (although is it really such a condemnation?). To wander from body to body in search of another soul. To, at last, find a soul to whom you can relate, let alone, in my case, one who coincidentally I have loved before.
These are things that mean something to you in eternity. True love. Not whether one of you is 90 or 14. These are just numbers. Notches. Hands that move in a circular fashion around the watch face of time. They mean nothing to someone, to two lovers, like us, whose soul lives have already lasted almost six millennia and show no signs of giving up.
When I think of Delgadina, I don’t think of her legs, her breasts, her lips, even her mind, these things that somehow I have touched or kissed. Instead, I think of her soul. Meanwhile, she smiles when she thinks of how much more experience of life she has had than me. If only I could die now and start another life ahead of her. But, vain man that I am, I have resolved that, in this life at least, I want to see out a century. It comforts me that, when I lie awake in bed, sometimes I can derive some pleasure from observing her naked, legs apart, breasts spread across her chest, dreaming of me, her 90 year old stallion.
Playboy Seeks Sex Toy
The more I read Marquez' post-Nobel Prize works, the more I'm convinced that his modus operandi is to invent characters and situations that will outrage many, if not most, readers.
Here, a sexually-active nonagenarian is offered a fledgling 14 year old virgin whore to celebrate his birthday.
Whether or not he deflowers the girl, whether or not he might only have watched the girl sleeping, he would be condemned by the reader. Society objects not just to the act, but to both the desire and the intention.
The problem is that Marquez employs beautiful language in his enterprise.
In fact, I've always suspected that, as I suspect of Nabokov, he writes a straightforward tale of love and sex, then, only then, twists or perverts it, by adding an element of the forbidden, the taboo, the immoral, the illegal.
Without the perversion, it would be a work of beauty. What happens when he tweaks the ages of the participants? Would a story of love and sex involving a 40 year old male and a 30 year old female be acceptable? Well, what happens when the age of the male is dialled up to 90 and the girl down to 14?
Something in our minds registers, this should not be happening, something is wrong.
Marquez might not explicitly ask, why is it wrong. He might not be expressly challenging morality. It exists, whether we like it or not.
However, I think he is asking us whether, as a work of art, it is any less beautiful because it is transgressive.
Part of what he is doing is questioning the aesthetic nature of transgression.
The novel is inspired by Kawabata's "House of the Sleeping Beauties", which I hadn't read when I read this novel.
In the epigraph from that book, old Eguchi is warned by the madam not to do anything in bad taste. The specific caveat is not to "put his finger into the mouth of the sleeping girl".
Different things are forbidden at different times and in different cultures.
The act of writing the novel doesn't mean that Marquez advocates child abuse in real life. He just wants to ask these questions and explore these issues within the realm of art.
Again, like Nabokov, he wants to treat art and literature as a playground. He wants to explore not just desire and intention, but the imagination as well.
By doing so, he asks of the reader that we suspend moral judgment and engage pure aesthetic judgment. Not all of us will want to, not all of us will be able to.
In this way, he doesn't just confront us with his subject matter, he confronts us with our own temperaments. He utilises the response of the reader as part of his creative enterprise.
His works are all the greater, because they involve and implicate us.
VERSE:
Angels Surround the Bed of Delgadina
Let us share a bed.
You can sleep if you need to.
I'm content to watch.
Breathless
I kissed your body.
I inhaled your wild fragrance.
It made me breathless.
Dear Girl
I'll write words for you.
"We are alone in the world."
I'll teach you to read.
The Abominable No-Man
It does more damage
For authors to write in chains
Than to write freely.
SOUNDTRACK:
Memories of My Melancholy Whores (Title Sequence)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMh3mT...
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - "Breathless"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TI8xP...
May 4, 2012
قرأتها قبل سنوات
و لم يخطر لي أن أضيفها لقائمة كتبي
ربما لأني لم أكن أعتبرها شيئا على الإطلاق حتى أذكره
حتى فتحت بالصدفة صفحة الرواية و ذهلت من الحديث عنها، بل من أني قد كنت قرأتها فعلا و كل هذه الأمور الساحرة و الجميلة التي يتحدثون عنها لم أشعر بها... أذكر كل ما شعرت منها هو أنها أذتني...0
القالب الذي وضعت فيه مؤذ... الفكرة مؤذية... رؤيا المؤلف للحياة بحد ذاتها جعلتني أكره الحياة و أود لو أخرج من جلدي و لو صدقت هذه الرؤيا لأصبت بالنقمة على البشرية...0
لم أعد أذكر التفاصيل تماما، و لكنها عن رجل تسعيني أمضى حياة أنانية و دنجوانية خاوية... ثم عن محاولاته التعلق بالحياة في عيد ميلاده التسعين... عبر تلك الفكرة المريضة بأن يقضي ليلة مع عذارء مراهقة... ثم لينتهي بتأملها نائمة طوال الوقت و تداعيات أفكاره عن الحياة و الحب... تداعيات مسن لم تجعلني أشعر بشيء تجاهه سوى بالكراهية...0
أذكر أن الرواية جعلتني أشعر بالسوء، و بذلك الشعور الذي يأبى إلا أن يتكرر في كل مرة...أشعر بأني أكون محلقة و خفيفة ثم تأتي أمثالها فترميني بحجر و تسقطني على أم رأسي معيدة إياي إلى الأرض و مثقلة إياي بحيث أني لا أعود أستطيع المشي قدما و لا حتى التنفس و هي ترزح فوق صدري، لو أني بقيت عالقة طويلا فيها، لو أني آمنت بها، لو أني عشت داخلها... و أحسبني سرعان ما سأموت لو أني كنت أنظر للحياة هكذا...0
هذه النظرة للحب، للجسد، للعلاقات البشرية، لطريقة تفكير الرجال و النساء ببعضهم، للتقدم في السن، للجمال، هي ما يؤذي... يقال أنها الواقع، و أن هذه الحياة... و أن هذا الجمال و الحب و كأن هذه مسلمة! لكن ليس صحيحا، من قال أن هذا الواقع... هذا الواقع حسب رؤيا فلان من الناس و ليس حسب ما يراه غيره أو حتى حسب الوجود الخارجي... هذا ما يجري في دماغه هو... و هو ليس إلا فردا في الحياة، و ليس المشكل لها... لحسن الحظ...0
ربما أكون غريبة الأطوار قليلا... و لكني أستطيع رؤية أن ليس هذا هو الواقع و لا هذه هي الحياة فقط... و هناك أفق أخرى... و هناك أبعاد أخرى... و هناك تداعيات أفكار أخرى... و هناك حب آخر... و هناك قيم أرقى... و هناك طريقة رؤية للحياة أخرى بكل معانيها هي أحلى و أسمى... و هناك قصص أخرى تستحق أن تروى من ما يسمونه الواقع... إنما هذا الواقع بحسب ماركيز... و هو واقع كريه و منفر...0
و يا له من بون شاسع... بين رؤيا هرمان هسه عن التقدم في السن و بين ماركيز... كالفرق بين التحليق في السماء بخفة و بين الخوض في مستنقع...0
لم أكن أرغب بالحديث عن الرواية، فأنا لست أذكر تفاصيل بقدر ما أذكر مشاعر سيئة و سلبية... و لكن بت أجد من الأفضل أن يضع من له رأي مختلف حول عمل شبه مجمع عليه رأيه، حتى لا يحس بالوحشة شخص آخر يقرأ العمل و لا يشعر بكل هذه الأمور التي يتحدث عنها الآخرون... فيبدأ بالشك في نفسه...0
و لم يخطر لي أن أضيفها لقائمة كتبي
ربما لأني لم أكن أعتبرها شيئا على الإطلاق حتى أذكره
حتى فتحت بالصدفة صفحة الرواية و ذهلت من الحديث عنها، بل من أني قد كنت قرأتها فعلا و كل هذه الأمور الساحرة و الجميلة التي يتحدثون عنها لم أشعر بها... أذكر كل ما شعرت منها هو أنها أذتني...0
القالب الذي وضعت فيه مؤذ... الفكرة مؤذية... رؤيا المؤلف للحياة بحد ذاتها جعلتني أكره الحياة و أود لو أخرج من جلدي و لو صدقت هذه الرؤيا لأصبت بالنقمة على البشرية...0
لم أعد أذكر التفاصيل تماما، و لكنها عن رجل تسعيني أمضى حياة أنانية و دنجوانية خاوية... ثم عن محاولاته التعلق بالحياة في عيد ميلاده التسعين... عبر تلك الفكرة المريضة بأن يقضي ليلة مع عذارء مراهقة... ثم لينتهي بتأملها نائمة طوال الوقت و تداعيات أفكاره عن الحياة و الحب... تداعيات مسن لم تجعلني أشعر بشيء تجاهه سوى بالكراهية...0
أذكر أن الرواية جعلتني أشعر بالسوء، و بذلك الشعور الذي يأبى إلا أن يتكرر في كل مرة...أشعر بأني أكون محلقة و خفيفة ثم تأتي أمثالها فترميني بحجر و تسقطني على أم رأسي معيدة إياي إلى الأرض و مثقلة إياي بحيث أني لا أعود أستطيع المشي قدما و لا حتى التنفس و هي ترزح فوق صدري، لو أني بقيت عالقة طويلا فيها، لو أني آمنت بها، لو أني عشت داخلها... و أحسبني سرعان ما سأموت لو أني كنت أنظر للحياة هكذا...0
هذه النظرة للحب، للجسد، للعلاقات البشرية، لطريقة تفكير الرجال و النساء ببعضهم، للتقدم في السن، للجمال، هي ما يؤذي... يقال أنها الواقع، و أن هذه الحياة... و أن هذا الجمال و الحب و كأن هذه مسلمة! لكن ليس صحيحا، من قال أن هذا الواقع... هذا الواقع حسب رؤيا فلان من الناس و ليس حسب ما يراه غيره أو حتى حسب الوجود الخارجي... هذا ما يجري في دماغه هو... و هو ليس إلا فردا في الحياة، و ليس المشكل لها... لحسن الحظ...0
ربما أكون غريبة الأطوار قليلا... و لكني أستطيع رؤية أن ليس هذا هو الواقع و لا هذه هي الحياة فقط... و هناك أفق أخرى... و هناك أبعاد أخرى... و هناك تداعيات أفكار أخرى... و هناك حب آخر... و هناك قيم أرقى... و هناك طريقة رؤية للحياة أخرى بكل معانيها هي أحلى و أسمى... و هناك قصص أخرى تستحق أن تروى من ما يسمونه الواقع... إنما هذا الواقع بحسب ماركيز... و هو واقع كريه و منفر...0
و يا له من بون شاسع... بين رؤيا هرمان هسه عن التقدم في السن و بين ماركيز... كالفرق بين التحليق في السماء بخفة و بين الخوض في مستنقع...0
لم أكن أرغب بالحديث عن الرواية، فأنا لست أذكر تفاصيل بقدر ما أذكر مشاعر سيئة و سلبية... و لكن بت أجد من الأفضل أن يضع من له رأي مختلف حول عمل شبه مجمع عليه رأيه، حتى لا يحس بالوحشة شخص آخر يقرأ العمل و لا يشعر بكل هذه الأمور التي يتحدث عنها الآخرون... فيبدأ بالشك في نفسه...0
February 15, 2024
"خاطرات دلبركان غمگين من"يا"روسپيان سودا زده من "داستان شروع دوباره زندگى است؛آنجا كه پيرمرد روزنامه نگار وراوى داستان در آغاز دهه دهم از زندگى خويش ميخواهد با دختركى نوجوان وباكره شبى را به ياد جوانى و لذت هاى بيشتر دوران زندگى خويش،خوش بگذراند،اما ناگهان عشق در قالب چهره محزون واندام وجان خفته دخترك به مشابه جنون محض جلوه مى كند و دگرگونى در درون و روح پيرمرد آغاز مى شود،زخم زندگى وحسرت عمر رفته را در نبود عشق در مى يابد و به تغيرر واهتمام كارها وامور خوبش مى پردازداما اين ياد و خاطره و خيال حضور دخترك در كنار خود است كه شوق واميد و شور زندگى را در روح وكالبد راوى داستان بيدار مى كند،آنجا كه در نبود وفراق دلبرك خود مى گويد؛
"حمام نمى گرفتم،ريش هايم را نمى تراشيدم ودندان هايم را مسواك نمى زدم،چون عشق خيلى دير به من آموخت كه آدم خودش را براى كسى مرتب مى كند،براى كسى لباس مى پوشد وبراى كسى عطر مى زند ومن هيچ وقت كسى را نداشتم"
ترجمه آخرين اثر داستانى گابو بزرگ كه بخاطر توصيف و بيان صحنه هاى جنسى در ايران به صورت قانوني براى اولين وآخرين بار در دهه٨٠ چاپ وعرضه شد حكايت وبيان تمثيل "هرگز براى براى شروعى دوباره دير نيست"مى باشد حتى اگر انسان نزديك به يك قرن زندگى وعمر زيسته را به بطالت و روزمرگى بگذراند،سن وعمرى كه گويا در كتاب هاى واثرهاى ديگر اين نويسنده بزرگ قرن بيستم مانند"خزان خودكامه"حالت جاودانگى وطولانى دارد و درجايي هم از اين رمان سن را اين چنين تعريف وتوصيف مى كند،
"سن اون چيزى نيست كه آدم داره،اونه كه آدم حس مى كنه"
پ.ن:از اين كتاب بغير از ترجمه نسخه چاپى جناب ميرعباسى كه اندكى دچار سانسور وحذفيات است چند ترجمه به صورت اكترونيكى موجود است كه ترجمه جناب امير حسين فطانت كامل وبدون سانسور عرضه شده است.
"حمام نمى گرفتم،ريش هايم را نمى تراشيدم ودندان هايم را مسواك نمى زدم،چون عشق خيلى دير به من آموخت كه آدم خودش را براى كسى مرتب مى كند،براى كسى لباس مى پوشد وبراى كسى عطر مى زند ومن هيچ وقت كسى را نداشتم"
ترجمه آخرين اثر داستانى گابو بزرگ كه بخاطر توصيف و بيان صحنه هاى جنسى در ايران به صورت قانوني براى اولين وآخرين بار در دهه٨٠ چاپ وعرضه شد حكايت وبيان تمثيل "هرگز براى براى شروعى دوباره دير نيست"مى باشد حتى اگر انسان نزديك به يك قرن زندگى وعمر زيسته را به بطالت و روزمرگى بگذراند،سن وعمرى كه گويا در كتاب هاى واثرهاى ديگر اين نويسنده بزرگ قرن بيستم مانند"خزان خودكامه"حالت جاودانگى وطولانى دارد و درجايي هم از اين رمان سن را اين چنين تعريف وتوصيف مى كند،
"سن اون چيزى نيست كه آدم داره،اونه كه آدم حس مى كنه"
پ.ن:از اين كتاب بغير از ترجمه نسخه چاپى جناب ميرعباسى كه اندكى دچار سانسور وحذفيات است چند ترجمه به صورت اكترونيكى موجود است كه ترجمه جناب امير حسين فطانت كامل وبدون سانسور عرضه شده است.
August 17, 2016
كنت أقول دومًا أن ثمة أعمال يحصل بينها وبين أعمال أخرى تلاقي / تقارب من الأفكار لا أتحدث عن السطو والسرقة - رغم وجود هذا الشيء - بل أتحدث عن تناغم بين كتابين بطريقة خفية، أو بواسطة إلهام من كتاب سابق يناقش الكتاب الذي بين يديك مثلًًا، وعندما كتب
ياسوناري كواباتا / Yasunari Kawabata
روايته / : والتي وصلتنا بترجمتها (الجميلات النائمات / ) وهى رواية غريبة الموضوع وأعتقد الغرابة تكمن عندي من إختلاف الثقافات ليس أكثر. أقول عند تأليفها "تمنى ماركيز لو أنه كتبها". لهذا لا أعلم أجد فكرة الجميلة النائمة على سرير من حرير ويبقى بجانبها ذلك الرجل الطاعن في السن يرقبها طوال الوقت وفي أكثر من تجربة أجدها مقاربة كبيرة بين العمل الأول وعمل ماركيز (ذكريات عاهراتي الحزينة). أعجبني العمل الأول الياباني لياسوناري أكثر من عمل ماركيز. رغم ابداع ماركيز كعادته في تولية التفاصيل الصغيرة شأن دون الإغراق في الوصف.
ماركيز يرتبط بعاهراته أو بمن عرفهم في إطار علاقاته في ذاخل ذاكرته لهذه يسهل عليه دومًا إعادة تذكرهم في وحدته التي يخبرنا عنها كثيرًا، ويحاول إعطاء قيمة الحياة والتقديس للمرأة في هذا العمل..
بينما جميلات ياسوناري مكانتهم عنده أعمق وأجل وهو لا يفكر حتى في إخراجهم من محيطهم المكاني؛ بل حتى المساس بهن شيء منافي للذوق كما تخبرنا بذلك سيدة الخان "إيجوشي" التي ستجد لها مصطلج في الثقافة العربية يحمل اسم (قوادة) وهو ذا دلالة منافية للمشروع. حالتي الرفض في العربية والغربية هو عدم المساس. وقفت كثيرًا وأنا اتأمل الرفض وحرقة الرغبة في اللمس.
كلا العملين يخيفان أي قارئ وقارئة من العمر، وكلاهما جميل وفاتن.
ياسوناري كواباتا / Yasunari Kawabata
روايته / : والتي وصلتنا بترجمتها (الجميلات النائمات / ) وهى رواية غريبة الموضوع وأعتقد الغرابة تكمن عندي من إختلاف الثقافات ليس أكثر. أقول عند تأليفها "تمنى ماركيز لو أنه كتبها". لهذا لا أعلم أجد فكرة الجميلة النائمة على سرير من حرير ويبقى بجانبها ذلك الرجل الطاعن في السن يرقبها طوال الوقت وفي أكثر من تجربة أجدها مقاربة كبيرة بين العمل الأول وعمل ماركيز (ذكريات عاهراتي الحزينة). أعجبني العمل الأول الياباني لياسوناري أكثر من عمل ماركيز. رغم ابداع ماركيز كعادته في تولية التفاصيل الصغيرة شأن دون الإغراق في الوصف.
ماركيز يرتبط بعاهراته أو بمن عرفهم في إطار علاقاته في ذاخل ذاكرته لهذه يسهل عليه دومًا إعادة تذكرهم في وحدته التي يخبرنا عنها كثيرًا، ويحاول إعطاء قيمة الحياة والتقديس للمرأة في هذا العمل..
بينما جميلات ياسوناري مكانتهم عنده أعمق وأجل وهو لا يفكر حتى في إخراجهم من محيطهم المكاني؛ بل حتى المساس بهن شيء منافي للذوق كما تخبرنا بذلك سيدة الخان "إيجوشي" التي ستجد لها مصطلج في الثقافة العربية يحمل اسم (قوادة) وهو ذا دلالة منافية للمشروع. حالتي الرفض في العربية والغربية هو عدم المساس. وقفت كثيرًا وأنا اتأمل الرفض وحرقة الرغبة في اللمس.
كلا العملين يخيفان أي قارئ وقارئة من العمر، وكلاهما جميل وفاتن.
October 28, 2022
“I would not have traded the delights of my suffering for anything in the world.”
The premise of Gabriel García Márquez's Memories of My Melancholy Whores is distasteful. For his 90th birthday, the narrator procures the services of a 14-year old virgin. After only having had sex with whores, what he doesn't count on is falling in love with the young girl. As might be expected, but almost as disturbing, this love is equally twisted and disturbing. I'm not sure if Marquez achieved his objective in this work. Did he want to show the impossibility of real love after years of debauchery? Or living life to the fullest? Or simply the emptiness of life in general? It was difficult for me to figure that out, but it did have great writing and packed an emotional punch. 3.5 stars
The premise of Gabriel García Márquez's Memories of My Melancholy Whores is distasteful. For his 90th birthday, the narrator procures the services of a 14-year old virgin. After only having had sex with whores, what he doesn't count on is falling in love with the young girl. As might be expected, but almost as disturbing, this love is equally twisted and disturbing. I'm not sure if Marquez achieved his objective in this work. Did he want to show the impossibility of real love after years of debauchery? Or living life to the fullest? Or simply the emptiness of life in general? It was difficult for me to figure that out, but it did have great writing and packed an emotional punch. 3.5 stars
July 31, 2019
توی ذوقم خورد و دوستش نداشتم: پیرمرد نود ساله و باکرهی ۱۴ ساله! اگه عشقه چرا یک زن میانسال یا حتی جوان (سی یا بیست ساله) نباشه؟ اگه میشد امتیاز منفی داد تردید نمیکردم!
May 6, 2014
"The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin. I'm ugly, shy and anachronistic. But by dint of not wanting to be those things I have pretended to be just the opposite. Until today, when I have resolved to tell of my own free will just what I'm like, if only to ease my conscience. The beginning of a new life at an age when most mortals have already died."
There is no subject in our society that is associated with more myths and misinformation than that of sexual intimacy and the elderly. This subject is often considered taboo and is relegated to derogatory humour. Some examples of the myths include:
- impotence is a natural consequence of ageing.
- sexual activity can be dangerous for the elderly.
- the sex drive or libido diminishes with advancing years for both men and women.
Sometimes, in the end, it is impossible not to become what others believe you are.
"Sex at 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope" -- George Burns
The media usually portrays the elderly as nonsexual beings who have traded in physical prowess for greater mental clarity and wisdom. Recent research shows that as we get older, our senses of taste, smell, and sight diminish, and our capacity for strenuous activities and exertion decline. Naturally, our sexual sensations and the ability to perform sexually will modestly decline. But decline is not the end, right?
"Human sexual response may be slowed by the aging process, but it is certainly not terminated."
Whew! Am I glad to hear that!
Memories of My Melancholy Whores is a tale about romance in old age, enticingly sensual yet often tragic and sad. It is about an unnamed second-rate reporter who on the eve of his 90th birthday decides to give himself "a night of mad love with a virgin adolescent". As much as that statement may hit some in the face, and potentially raise questions about why you decided to read this book, one is soon drawn in to the lonely and disconnected life of this old man.
On his 90th birthday, the old man awakes, as always, at 5am in the morning:
Old Age
The old man has never fallen in love. He was close to marrying once, but it was a loveless union that he could not commit to. He had never gone to bed with a woman he didn't pay and the few who weren't in the profession, he persuaded to take money. At 20 he began to keep a record of his liaisons, listing name, age, place, and a brief notation on the circumstances and style of lovemaking. By the time he was 50 there were 514 women with whom he had been with, at least once.
While thinking back over his life, he is overcome by irresistible excitement and he calls Rosa Camarcas, the madam of the local whorehouse. She informs him that she knows precisely his desires and requests that he visit the whorehouse later that evening.
Freshly washed, dressed and pressed, he visits the whorehouse and is presented with a 14 year old adolescent. She is a seamstress who desperately needs additional funds to support her impoverished family. She is so anxious by events that Rosa has to give the girl a mixture of bromide and valerian to drink, so that by the time the old man sees her, she is asleep in the enormous bed for hire.
The old man soon falls madly in love, that first time, intense, giddy kind of love. He simply becomes another man and his eyes and soul are opened to the invincible power of unrequited love. It drives him crazy and he pours his feelings out in his local column. Soon his readers are living this life with him, many conversant with the feeling of being completely, hopelessly, desperately in love with someone, all the while knowing that their feelings will never reach them. It's like drowning but you just won't fucking die.
He begins to realise that all of his previous years with prostitutes have been wasted years.
This is a sparsely written yet beautiful novel, told touchingly from a first person perspective, by a man who has lived his life in isolation and lacks human affection. When he finally finds a connection at 90, which most of us are lucky to experience in youth, the reader is left with no choice but to acknowledge the possibility that truth and beauty may be found in the strangest of places and times.
The power of love is limitless and does not fit neatly into a box. It transforms people regardless of the conditions under which it comes into existence.
One thing this book did make me think about was where I'd be, who I'd be with, and the type of person I would be at 90. I love life and live it to the full and I want to stick around on this earth for as long as I possibly can. I want to be just like Betty White...out there, living life, brain intact, and a wit as quick as ever.
Betty White clips
The secret to successful aging is never retiring from life, always having a mission or a reason for living. And hey, if I can still enjoy the sexual pleasures of life at that age, then bring it on! :-).
Be sure to enjoy each day GR friends by staying active doing what you love to do. And, you may just live long enough to find out that many things will naturally take care of themselves.
4*/5
There is no subject in our society that is associated with more myths and misinformation than that of sexual intimacy and the elderly. This subject is often considered taboo and is relegated to derogatory humour. Some examples of the myths include:
- impotence is a natural consequence of ageing.
- sexual activity can be dangerous for the elderly.
- the sex drive or libido diminishes with advancing years for both men and women.
Sometimes, in the end, it is impossible not to become what others believe you are.
"Sex at 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope" -- George Burns
The media usually portrays the elderly as nonsexual beings who have traded in physical prowess for greater mental clarity and wisdom. Recent research shows that as we get older, our senses of taste, smell, and sight diminish, and our capacity for strenuous activities and exertion decline. Naturally, our sexual sensations and the ability to perform sexually will modestly decline. But decline is not the end, right?
"Human sexual response may be slowed by the aging process, but it is certainly not terminated."
Whew! Am I glad to hear that!
Memories of My Melancholy Whores is a tale about romance in old age, enticingly sensual yet often tragic and sad. It is about an unnamed second-rate reporter who on the eve of his 90th birthday decides to give himself "a night of mad love with a virgin adolescent". As much as that statement may hit some in the face, and potentially raise questions about why you decided to read this book, one is soon drawn in to the lonely and disconnected life of this old man.
On his 90th birthday, the old man awakes, as always, at 5am in the morning:
"My symptoms at dawn were perfect for not feeling happy: my bones had been aching since the small hours, my asshole burned, and thunder threatened a storm after three months of drought."He settles down to write the day's column for the local newspaper and decides that the subject should indeed be his 90th birthday. He starts to think about his life and what it means to be old.
"The truth is that the first changes are so slow they pass almost unnoticed, and you go on seeing yourself as you always were, from the inside, but others observe you from the outside."
Old Age
The old man has never fallen in love. He was close to marrying once, but it was a loveless union that he could not commit to. He had never gone to bed with a woman he didn't pay and the few who weren't in the profession, he persuaded to take money. At 20 he began to keep a record of his liaisons, listing name, age, place, and a brief notation on the circumstances and style of lovemaking. By the time he was 50 there were 514 women with whom he had been with, at least once.
"I stopped making the list when my body no longer allowed me to have so many and I could keep track of them without paper."He had the tool of a galley slave and he slept in the red-light district two or three times a week. His claim to fame is that he'd been with such a variety of companions that he was twice crowned client of the year! *rolling my eyes*
While thinking back over his life, he is overcome by irresistible excitement and he calls Rosa Camarcas, the madam of the local whorehouse. She informs him that she knows precisely his desires and requests that he visit the whorehouse later that evening.
Freshly washed, dressed and pressed, he visits the whorehouse and is presented with a 14 year old adolescent. She is a seamstress who desperately needs additional funds to support her impoverished family. She is so anxious by events that Rosa has to give the girl a mixture of bromide and valerian to drink, so that by the time the old man sees her, she is asleep in the enormous bed for hire.
"I sat down to contemplate her from the edge of the bed, my five senses under a spell. A warm current travelled up my veins, and my slow, retired animal woke from its long sleep."But strangely, nothing happens.
"This was something new for me. I was ignorant of the arts of seduction and had always chosen my brides for a night at random, more for their price than their charms, and we made love without love, half-dressed most of the time and always in the dark so we could imagine ourselves as better than we were. That night I discovered the improbable pleasure of contemplating the body of a sleeping woman without the urgencies of desire or the obstacles of modesty."For a period of time the old man and the young girl meet. He calls her Delgadina, a girl in a song, and he brings her small gifts. Each time they meet they sleep side by side, with him mostly looking at and smelling her. Occasionally he kisses and caresses her tired young body as she snoozes. She doesn't speak with him; their intimacy is silent, tranquil.
The old man soon falls madly in love, that first time, intense, giddy kind of love. He simply becomes another man and his eyes and soul are opened to the invincible power of unrequited love. It drives him crazy and he pours his feelings out in his local column. Soon his readers are living this life with him, many conversant with the feeling of being completely, hopelessly, desperately in love with someone, all the while knowing that their feelings will never reach them. It's like drowning but you just won't fucking die.
He begins to realise that all of his previous years with prostitutes have been wasted years.
"Sex is the consolation you have when you can't have love."
This is a sparsely written yet beautiful novel, told touchingly from a first person perspective, by a man who has lived his life in isolation and lacks human affection. When he finally finds a connection at 90, which most of us are lucky to experience in youth, the reader is left with no choice but to acknowledge the possibility that truth and beauty may be found in the strangest of places and times.
The power of love is limitless and does not fit neatly into a box. It transforms people regardless of the conditions under which it comes into existence.
One thing this book did make me think about was where I'd be, who I'd be with, and the type of person I would be at 90. I love life and live it to the full and I want to stick around on this earth for as long as I possibly can. I want to be just like Betty White...out there, living life, brain intact, and a wit as quick as ever.
Betty White clips
The secret to successful aging is never retiring from life, always having a mission or a reason for living. And hey, if I can still enjoy the sexual pleasures of life at that age, then bring it on! :-).
Be sure to enjoy each day GR friends by staying active doing what you love to do. And, you may just live long enough to find out that many things will naturally take care of themselves.
4*/5
October 19, 2019
از این رمان توقع صد سال تنهایی یا عشق، سالهای وبا را نباید داشته باشید ولی شیرین و خواندنی است.
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هیچ وقت به او و به هیچکدام از پیشنهادهای وسوسه انگیز و بیشرمانهاش تن در نداده بودم، اما او اصولی را که من به آنها اعتقاد داشتم قبول نداشت و با لبخندی موذیانه میگفت: اخلاقیات هم بستگی به زمان یا زمانه داره، خواهی دید. ص 6 کتاب
هیچ وقت به سن و سال مثل قطراتی که از سقف میچکند و به آدم یادآوری میکنند که چه قدر از عمر باقی است فکر نکردهام. ص 10 کتاب
وقتی چهل و دو سال داشتم به خاطر پشت دردی که وقت تنفس اذیتم میکرد به سراغ دکتر رفتم. اهمیت زیادی نداد و گفت: در سن و سال شما این دردها طبیعیه. به او گفتم: در این صورت اون چه طبیعی نیست سن و سال منه. ص 11 کتاب
واقعیت این است که اولین تغییرات در پیری آن چنان به آرامی اتفاق میافتد که به سختی به چشم میآیند. آدمی باز خودش را از درون نگاه میکند همان طور که همیشه نگاه میکرده است اما این دیگرانند که از بیرون به او پیریش را یادآوری میکنند. ص 12 کتاب
هر چند حافظهی پیرها برای چیزهایی که ضروری نیستند ضعیف میشود اما به ندرت در مورد چیزهایی که واقعاً مورد علاقه آنها است تعلل میکند و این از نکتههای خوب زندگی است. سیسرون به درستی گفته است که: هیچ پیری نیست که مخفیگاه گنج خودش را فراموش کند. ص 13 کتاب
یادم افتاد که یکی از قشنگیهای پیری اغواگریهای دوستان جوانی است که فکر میکنند ما خارج از سرویسیم. ص 46 کتاب
همان طور که وقایع واقعی فراموش میشوند بعضی وقایع هم که هرگز اتفاق نیفتادهاند میتوانند در خاطرات طوری بمانند که گویی اتفاق افتادهاند. ص 61 کتاب
سن اون چیزی نیست که آدم داره، اونه که آدم حس میکنه. ص 62 کتاب
راننده هشدار داد: حواست باشه عاقله مرد، تو این خونه آدم میکشن. جوابش دادم: اگه به خاطر عشق باشه عیبی نداره. ص 64 کتاب
در ادبیات رمانتیک که مادرم سعی کرده بود با سختگیری آنها را به من تحمیل کند و رد کرده بودم غرق شدم و دریافتم نیروی شکست ناپذیری که جهان را به پیش برده عشقهایی با فرجام خوش نیستند بلکه بر عکس. ص 68 کتاب
خودت خوب میدونی "نازک اندام" که شهرت مثل یک زن چاقه که با آدم نمیخوابه ولی همیشه وقتی آدم بیدار میشه میبینه که از اون طرف تخت داره ما رو نگاه میکنه. ص 70 کتاب
قبل از اینکه لذت همخوابگی با عشق را امتحان کرده باشی، نمیر. ص 103 کتاب
ای کاش زندگی چیزی نبود که مثل رود گلآلود هراکلیت بگذرد بلکه فرصت نادری بود تا در ماهیتابه از این رو به آن رو شویم و طرف دیگرمان هم تا نود سال دیگر سرخ میشد. ص 111 کتاب
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هیچ وقت به او و به هیچکدام از پیشنهادهای وسوسه انگیز و بیشرمانهاش تن در نداده بودم، اما او اصولی را که من به آنها اعتقاد داشتم قبول نداشت و با لبخندی موذیانه میگفت: اخلاقیات هم بستگی به زمان یا زمانه داره، خواهی دید. ص 6 کتاب
هیچ وقت به سن و سال مثل قطراتی که از سقف میچکند و به آدم یادآوری میکنند که چه قدر از عمر باقی است فکر نکردهام. ص 10 کتاب
وقتی چهل و دو سال داشتم به خاطر پشت دردی که وقت تنفس اذیتم میکرد به سراغ دکتر رفتم. اهمیت زیادی نداد و گفت: در سن و سال شما این دردها طبیعیه. به او گفتم: در این صورت اون چه طبیعی نیست سن و سال منه. ص 11 کتاب
واقعیت این است که اولین تغییرات در پیری آن چنان به آرامی اتفاق میافتد که به سختی به چشم میآیند. آدمی باز خودش را از درون نگاه میکند همان طور که همیشه نگاه میکرده است اما این دیگرانند که از بیرون به او پیریش را یادآوری میکنند. ص 12 کتاب
هر چند حافظهی پیرها برای چیزهایی که ضروری نیستند ضعیف میشود اما به ندرت در مورد چیزهایی که واقعاً مورد علاقه آنها است تعلل میکند و این از نکتههای خوب زندگی است. سیسرون به درستی گفته است که: هیچ پیری نیست که مخفیگاه گنج خودش را فراموش کند. ص 13 کتاب
یادم افتاد که یکی از قشنگیهای پیری اغواگریهای دوستان جوانی است که فکر میکنند ما خارج از سرویسیم. ص 46 کتاب
همان طور که وقایع واقعی فراموش میشوند بعضی وقایع هم که هرگز اتفاق نیفتادهاند میتوانند در خاطرات طوری بمانند که گویی اتفاق افتادهاند. ص 61 کتاب
سن اون چیزی نیست که آدم داره، اونه که آدم حس میکنه. ص 62 کتاب
راننده هشدار داد: حواست باشه عاقله مرد، تو این خونه آدم میکشن. جوابش دادم: اگه به خاطر عشق باشه عیبی نداره. ص 64 کتاب
در ادبیات رمانتیک که مادرم سعی کرده بود با سختگیری آنها را به من تحمیل کند و رد کرده بودم غرق شدم و دریافتم نیروی شکست ناپذیری که جهان را به پیش برده عشقهایی با فرجام خوش نیستند بلکه بر عکس. ص 68 کتاب
خودت خوب میدونی "نازک اندام" که شهرت مثل یک زن چاقه که با آدم نمیخوابه ولی همیشه وقتی آدم بیدار میشه میبینه که از اون طرف تخت داره ما رو نگاه میکنه. ص 70 کتاب
قبل از اینکه لذت همخوابگی با عشق را امتحان کرده باشی، نمیر. ص 103 کتاب
ای کاش زندگی چیزی نبود که مثل رود گلآلود هراکلیت بگذرد بلکه فرصت نادری بود تا در ماهیتابه از این رو به آن رو شویم و طرف دیگرمان هم تا نود سال دیگر سرخ میشد. ص 111 کتاب
October 15, 2025
I came across a comment about this author that described him as "the Gaspar Noé of the literary world." That comparison intrigued me. not because im a fan of Noé (I've seen a few of his films and didn't particularly enjoy them) but because I was curious to read something bold and unconventional.
What I found, however, was a story that explores an inappropriate relationship, albeit told with elegant prose. Yes, the writing is undeniably skillful. But no matter how well-crafted the language is, I struggled with a narrative that seemed to romanticize such a troubling dynamic.
To briefly summarize: the story follows a man on the eve of his 90th birthday. Wanting to make the day feel special, he contacts a place he used to frequent and asks for a young woman -specifically someone inexperienced. He has kept a detailed list of all his previous encounters and wants this one to feel different. Eventually, a 14-year-old girl is brought to him, and the story centers on what he describes as falling in love with her.
I personally didn't enjoy this book. Some readers might interpret it differently or find literary merit in it, but I cannot recommend it. The way the narrative frames this relationship under the idea of "love" made me uncomfortable. I don't believe such a dynamic can or should be defined that way.
That said, the author's writing style is undeniably refined. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the prose more, but in this case the subject matter was too disturbing for me to overlook.
If you've read it, I'd be genuinely curious to hear your perspective. I'm open to discussion, as part of me still wonders whether I've missed a deeper meaning.
What I found, however, was a story that explores an inappropriate relationship, albeit told with elegant prose. Yes, the writing is undeniably skillful. But no matter how well-crafted the language is, I struggled with a narrative that seemed to romanticize such a troubling dynamic.
To briefly summarize: the story follows a man on the eve of his 90th birthday. Wanting to make the day feel special, he contacts a place he used to frequent and asks for a young woman -specifically someone inexperienced. He has kept a detailed list of all his previous encounters and wants this one to feel different. Eventually, a 14-year-old girl is brought to him, and the story centers on what he describes as falling in love with her.
I personally didn't enjoy this book. Some readers might interpret it differently or find literary merit in it, but I cannot recommend it. The way the narrative frames this relationship under the idea of "love" made me uncomfortable. I don't believe such a dynamic can or should be defined that way.
That said, the author's writing style is undeniably refined. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the prose more, but in this case the subject matter was too disturbing for me to overlook.
If you've read it, I'd be genuinely curious to hear your perspective. I'm open to discussion, as part of me still wonders whether I've missed a deeper meaning.
September 7, 2023
"Sex is the consolation you have when you can't have love."
- Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Is this a novella about a ninety-year-old writer who is going to kick open the door to his 90s by sleeping with a 14-year-old prostitute? Yes. But also no. I'm not going to tell you if it happens or not. But it is as much about sex as Lolita. Perhaps, that is an incomplete or unfinished analogy. Both books do play around with the idea of sex and the transgressive idea of an older man and a nymph. But, really, the book is about love and getting old. It is about coming to grips with an aging body, surrounded by books, an adopted Angoran cat, classical music, his writing, and yes memories of melancholic whores. I liked it enough I'd recommend it to my wife, just not my mother or daughter.
- Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Is this a novella about a ninety-year-old writer who is going to kick open the door to his 90s by sleeping with a 14-year-old prostitute? Yes. But also no. I'm not going to tell you if it happens or not. But it is as much about sex as Lolita. Perhaps, that is an incomplete or unfinished analogy. Both books do play around with the idea of sex and the transgressive idea of an older man and a nymph. But, really, the book is about love and getting old. It is about coming to grips with an aging body, surrounded by books, an adopted Angoran cat, classical music, his writing, and yes memories of melancholic whores. I liked it enough I'd recommend it to my wife, just not my mother or daughter.
September 25, 2019
The review I wrote for amazon.
A curious and lovely book
In the US, we understand sexy but we struggle with the erotic. We read the body like we read the newspaper, by habit; with a glance. Our real failure in love is our failure to take our time. It's not in our nature to wait, to sample, to savor. We rush into love as if we were late to an appointment. Gabriel Garcia Marquez in his MEMORIES OF MY MELANCHOLY WHORES doesn't rush. The book is a seduction and moves at that quiet lazy confident pace. The protagonist turns 90 and, mindful of his mortality, wants what he's never had: "A night of wild love with an adolescent virgin." Of course, desire is a dream and dreams are an attempt to remember. And, what do we want to remember, everything, everyone we've ever loved. Memory, though, is an admission of loss. Desire is our strategy to reclaim what was lost. Of course, memory is a trickster...and that's part of the joy of this book, as the "Professor," defies death less through contact with flesh, than though memory and desire. In this book as in life, it is the approach, it is anticipation, that sets us on fire.
A curious and lovely book
In the US, we understand sexy but we struggle with the erotic. We read the body like we read the newspaper, by habit; with a glance. Our real failure in love is our failure to take our time. It's not in our nature to wait, to sample, to savor. We rush into love as if we were late to an appointment. Gabriel Garcia Marquez in his MEMORIES OF MY MELANCHOLY WHORES doesn't rush. The book is a seduction and moves at that quiet lazy confident pace. The protagonist turns 90 and, mindful of his mortality, wants what he's never had: "A night of wild love with an adolescent virgin." Of course, desire is a dream and dreams are an attempt to remember. And, what do we want to remember, everything, everyone we've ever loved. Memory, though, is an admission of loss. Desire is our strategy to reclaim what was lost. Of course, memory is a trickster...and that's part of the joy of this book, as the "Professor," defies death less through contact with flesh, than though memory and desire. In this book as in life, it is the approach, it is anticipation, that sets us on fire.
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