Many years later, as I faced his multigenerational magnum opus, I was to remember the afternoon where my father first mentioned his name. My sister was reading his masterpiece for a class so many lifetimes and universes away that I, a measly middle-schooler, was rightfully uninterested. But then came those four little words, uttered with the grace and eloquence of a story passed down from generation to generation. Cien años de soledad (One Hundred Years of Solitude). That one little eternal clump of words caught my attention.
What would a book about one hundred years of solitude really have to offer? It did not seem like much action would take place, but it seemed like a necessity for me, a child of Colombian parents, to read such a tale. Many years later, as I opened my book to the first page, so many preconceptions and assumed meanings were washed away from my brain as if in a flood because I realized that I was not capable of predicting the true essence of a reality that’s both magical and distinctly, uncontestably real.
That was my introduction to the boundless creativity of Gabriel García Márquez.
Reading his stories seems like an obligation in Colombia, and for good reason. Many of his novels are assigned reading not only in Colombia, but Spanish literature classes throughout the world. Some even say that Spanish literature classes without his monumental central work One Hundred Years of Solitude are fundamentally incomplete. But why?
Colombia is a place with an extremely troubled history, but also a rich and unbridled culture. García Márquez understood both spheres of Colombian life from his maternal grandparents, Nicolas Ricardo Márquez and Tranquilina Iguarán Cotes. The former was a veteran of the Thousand Days’ War fought between the Liberal and Conservative Colombian parties, while the latter’s superstitious beliefs reflected the reality of living in a place where acts of magic are often more real than the surreal reality its inhabitants experience on a daily basis. García Márquez spent his childhood in their home in Aracataca, a town in the Colombian region of Magdalena and among Colombia’s near-coastal marshlands. These three elements from García Márquez’ life would bloom into what would become perhaps the most well-known and lauded novel in the history of Latin American literature.
One of the most fascinating experiences I came across while reading García Márquez’ seminal work was how such events are reflected in the town of Macondo. The Thousand Days’ War is a plague just like the plague of insomnia that made the town slowly lose its memory. The Banana Massacre of 1928 occurs in the blink of an eye and a member of the Buendía family witnesses dead bodies being loaded onto train cars to be deposited into the ocean like rotten fruit and forgotten about for good. When he returns to the town, no one remembers the massacre. It has faded into the murky waters of forgetting, just like the real event it is based on has in the eyes of many Latinos.
But perhaps the most interesting aspect of García Márquez’s work is its creation of a literary universe. With just a couple lines on a page, García Márquez was able to usurp God: he crafted a town in the middle of the Colombian marshlands filled with characters with real human energy. The town and its people, just like Colombia, find themselves isolated and fully unable to expand outwardly and form connections in a way that can preserve their magical nature. As a result, yellow flowers rain down from the sky signifying the death of the patriarch and founder, and new people come to take over his role. The novel ends on the death of the universe because it has fallen so far outside of the memory of men that it cannot hold itself together anymore. The universe is created and destroyed within a couple of hundred pages. The work, as Peruvian author Mario Vargas Llosa pointed out, is a “total novel.”
Through his work, García Márquez was able to break through our solitude and make distinct voices heard. This is important because it gives the people condemned to one hundred years of solitude a second chance on earth.
Emilio Pinzón is a senior at Balboa Academy in Panama City, Panama. He is the Vice-President of his school’s chapter of NEHS. He enjoys reading and writing in his free time because these activities help him use his creativity and to express all the thoughts swirling inside of his. Born in Mexico but coming from a largely Colombian family, he has connections to three distinct parts of Latin America, something reflected in his fascination with Latin American literature. Aside from reading and writing, he also greatly enjoys music and spends any remaining free time listening to albums and reviewing them as complete works, akin to books and films. He hopes to one day publish a book of his own, either a collection of short stories or a fully-fledged novel.
National English Honor Society
The National English Honor Society (NEHS), founded and sponsored by Sigma Tau Delta, is the only international organization exclusively for secondary students and faculty who, in the field of English, merit special note for past and current accomplishments. Individual secondary schools are invited to petition for a local chapter, through which individuals may be inducted into Society membership. Immediate benefits of affiliation include academic recognition, scholarship and award eligibility, and opportunities for networking with others who share enthusiasm for, and accomplishment in, the language arts.
America’s first honor society was founded in 1776, but high school students didn’t have access to such organizations for another 150 years. Since then, high school honor societies have been developed in leadership, drama, journalism, French, Spanish, mathematics, the sciences, and in various other fields, but not in English. In 2005, National English Honor Society launched and has been growing steadily since, becoming one of the largest academic societies for secondary schools.
As Joyce Carol Oates writes, “This is the time for which we have been waiting.” Or perhaps it was Shakespeare: “Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer . . .” we celebrate English studies through NEHS.
National English Honor Society accepts submissions to our blog, NEHS Museletter, from all membership categories (students, Advisors, and alumni). If you are interested in submitting a blog, please read the Suggested Guidelines on our website. Email any questions and all submissions to: submit@nehsmuseletter.us.
