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A review by sunnylaciura
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
3.0
I’ve had this on my TBR since college where I studied Hispanic Ethnic Studies. This particular book and the author are cultural staples in Latin America, so I was ecstatic when I found it at a secondhand book sale and started reading it immediately.
While the writing is beautiful and Marquez’s love for the written word is evident, I’m finding myself genuinely confused how this is touted one of the best “love stories” of all time. At least to me, it seems like the actual message is that “love” is an illness, all consuming and incurable, at least for Florentino Ariza.
Yes, some of it is touching, and I understand where the idea of a lifetime of waiting for “the one” could be considered romantic. Who wouldn’t want to be desired so? And after a lifetime of waiting, the closing line that they could keep going “forever” packs a real punch. The thing about writing love letters on gardenia petals? Absolutely swoon-worthy. I was also admittedly moved by the themes of aging and mortality that become very present in the latter half of the story.
However, the truth is that Florentino Ariza does not wait for Fermina Daza. He does not love her; he is obsessed with her. They hardly even spoke face to face in the course of their lifetimes. He spends years projecting his fantasy of fulfillment onto her despite her initial rejection, and subsequent marriage and children. He spends his years sleeping around with hundreds of other women (including a literal child) but “reserving his heart for [her].” When the time comes for them to be together, he tells her he “saved [himself] for [her]” unprovoked, knowing she would obviously misinterpret that statement. It struck me as manipulative and really made me question how aware he is of how f’d up the situation is.
Admittedly, I am reading this through the lens of a 28 year old white New Orleanian woman in 2025. But to me this is far less a love story than a story of an avoidant man child leaning on a hardly-real affair from his teenage years as an excuse to f around with hundreds of women’s hearts over the course of a lifetime, whether or not he’s cognizant of it. He's sick in the head, obsessed with the idea of a relationship that never truly even existed. And I think that’s the point, if not intentionally so.
While the writing is beautiful and Marquez’s love for the written word is evident, I’m finding myself genuinely confused how this is touted one of the best “love stories” of all time. At least to me, it seems like the actual message is that “love” is an illness, all consuming and incurable, at least for Florentino Ariza.
Yes, some of it is touching, and I understand where the idea of a lifetime of waiting for “the one” could be considered romantic. Who wouldn’t want to be desired so? And after a lifetime of waiting, the closing line that they could keep going “forever” packs a real punch. The thing about writing love letters on gardenia petals? Absolutely swoon-worthy. I was also admittedly moved by the themes of aging and mortality that become very present in the latter half of the story.
However, the truth is that Florentino Ariza does not wait for Fermina Daza. He does not love her; he is obsessed with her. They hardly even spoke face to face in the course of their lifetimes. He spends years projecting his fantasy of fulfillment onto her despite her initial rejection, and subsequent marriage and children. He spends his years sleeping around with hundreds of other women (including a literal child) but “reserving his heart for [her].” When the time comes for them to be together, he tells her he “saved [himself] for [her]” unprovoked, knowing she would obviously misinterpret that statement. It struck me as manipulative and really made me question how aware he is of how f’d up the situation is.
Admittedly, I am reading this through the lens of a 28 year old white New Orleanian woman in 2025. But to me this is far less a love story than a story of an avoidant man child leaning on a hardly-real affair from his teenage years as an excuse to f around with hundreds of women’s hearts over the course of a lifetime, whether or not he’s cognizant of it. He's sick in the head, obsessed with the idea of a relationship that never truly even existed. And I think that’s the point, if not intentionally so.