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Love in the Time of Cholera
and breaking spells

While Love in the Time of Cholera took me far too much time to get through, I have never more desperately wanted a book to end.

I turned the first tattered pages of this yellowing copy in London two months ago. I’d just finished all my assignments for my Master’s degree and was looking ahead to some free time, some re-organizing of priorities, and (little did I know at the time) some big decisions.

When Fermina and Florentino’s entirely-written romance was escalating into full swing, I found myself talking to my ex again; slipping back into a nearly text-exclusive communication that always left me feeling somehow bereft and more aware of my loneliness. And yet, it’s just comforting enough that I can’t quite give it up. It was then that Gabriel Garcia Marquez seemed to be narrating the precise ruminations of my own heart:

And so she thought about him as she never could have imagined thinking about anyone, having premonitions that he would be where he was not, wanting him to be where he could not be…

Márquez, p. 67

But not knowing where this communication with my ex was going (or why), I actually found comfort in the abrupt and decisive ending Fermina put to her own feverish affair the moment she saw her secret fiancee after two years of exclusively writing letters:

but now, instead of the commotion of love, she felt the abyss of disenchantment. In an instant, the magnitude of her own mistake was revealed to her, and she asked herself, appalled, how she could have nurtured such a chimera in her heart for so long with so much ferocity… she erased him from her life with a wave of her hand.

Márquez, p. 102

This outcome felt more real, more honest to me than those in stories like Cyrano de Bergerac and You’ve Got Mail. It was a reminder of the truth I have known for a long time now: that these types of relationships are merely illusions. It’s fun and comforting and exciting at times, but at the end of the day, it’s just a cozy spell that we chose to live inside – often because it’s more fun than reality.

I chose to hide inside my little spell made of text-messages because life during COVID is hard and unexpected and I just wanted to cling to whatever comforts I could get. But words without a person are only half of the story; and one cannot truly love only half a story.

I wish the book had just ended there. But alas…

What happens next is the rest of these two characters’ lives, separate from one another. And what is meant to be the comedic and tedious tale of a life lived while waiting for one’s true love, miserably fails the test of time and reads, instead, like an account of the disgusting acts of a sex-obsessed man who will do anything to serve his own impulses via the use of vulnerable women and girls.

When something (anything, anyone) triggers me in life, I have made it a practice to go within and try to seek out what unmet need within myself is making itself known. What is it about this story, this person, this situation that is causing my inner self to cry out? What in my own self needs attention here?

I did that with this story and realized that, no; there is nothing wrong within myself here. There is nothing about this that suggests that I need healing. The simple truth is that taking advantage of vulnerable women is not bestowing love. Pedophilia is NEVER romantic or beautiful. Rape is NEVER an act of kindness or generosity. These things are not OK. Ever. And certainly do not make for a sympathetic character even in a fictional story.

I’m often able to overlook certain outdated concepts due to the time and context in which the book was written, but this is one area in which I cannot feign sympathy. And even though the book was set between the years of 1875-1929, it was written in 1985; not long enough ago (in my mind) to warrant this kind of base ignorance and insensitivity.

Maybe what angered me so much was the knowledge that people like this do still exist. That while this might be an outdated way of thinking, this is not an outdated type of person. I have encountered these men before and will encounter them again and I hate that more than anything. I hate that for myself and for all women, everywhere.

Along with the downward spiral of Love in the Time of Cholera’s central theme, came the loss of my primary income source due to COVID and the sudden decision to return to the US. While Cholera seemed to have little impact on the lives of Gabriel García Márquez’s characters, COVID was beginning to have an unignorable impact on mine.

Added to the fear and confusion of pivoting my plans and traveling during a pandemic, was the blind anger that this bizarre little book was bringing into my experience. I had to see it through to the end simply because my modern, intelligent, self-respecting female self needed to see the protagonist die.

But it doesn’t end that way, of course. Just like in life, even in 2020: men in power rarely lose.

Despite all of this, though, I am grateful that I read this book. Gabriel García Márquez is a literary giant whose prose is remarkable in many valuable ways and even though this story upset me to my core, it made me think and feel deeply, see the truth of my personal choices and actions, and connect with the ferocity of my own spirit when tested.

It was a perfect reminder on so many levels that words do, in fact, hold great power. And no one who uses words is exempt from the responsibility inseparable from that power.

Books & References

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez (1985)
Cyrano de Bergerac, a play by Edmund Rostand (1897)
You’ve Got Mail, a film directed by Nora Ephron (1998)

* The last line of this post is a reference to the well-worn phrase, with great power comes great responsibility. This is a concept that can be attributed to a bible verse (Luke, 12:48) but was first referenced in political writing in the 1700s during the French Revolution. It was later adopted and used by various people in power including Winston Churchill before becoming popularized by Stan Lee’s Spiderman comics. Now it has become widely known as “The Peter Parker Principle”. There’s a Wikipedia article about it HERE.

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