A review by uhambe_nami
Hopscotch by Julio Cortázar

4.0

Don't read it for the plot; read it for the way it transports you to those places where - under a cover of jazz and cigarette smoke - art, literature and music is discussed as if life depends on it. I once knew a place like the Serpent Club, where time stood still and Proust and Gertrude Stein (and many others I now wish I could remember) were quoted in their respective original languages. Much like La Maga, I had no idea what they were talking about and all I could do was listen.
In Hopscotch, whichever way one decides to read it, we meet Horacio Oliveira, who breathes literature and prefers to ignore the more dreary things in life. And La Maga, his girlfriend, who is accepted but also patronised by Horacio and his friends from the Serpent Club. When La Maga disappears, Horacio realises that he needs her and the mundane things of life after all – if only to keep his sanity. That, in short, is the narrative, but there is so much more to discover and dwell upon in this book. Take the plunge and play the game of hopscotch, where the bottom is Earth and the top is Heaven, and don't forget that in order to reach Heaven you will need at least a pebble and a toe. Although a sip of yerba mate and some good jazz in the background might do the trick as well.