Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

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.