Take a photo of a barcode or cover
reading_withmolly 's review for:
Until August
by Gabriel García Márquez
August 16 each year. A ferry, a hotel, a taxi, a bouquet of gladioli and at her mother’s grave in the poorest cemetery of the island is Ana Magdelena Bach. Each year, part of her routine, a metronome of a schedule to pay respects to her mother (even if her wishes were odd to be buried on this island). Ana is otherwise content in her life– a happy marriage, the usual drama of raising independently-minded children, and generally ageing (although soon coming up to the age her mother passed away).
But then…
August 16– the ferry, the hotel, the taxi, the gladioli, cleaning her mother’s grave– Ana takes a lover for a single night on the island. And the next year, and the next. The routine initially excites her before turning somewhat sour– is it the men? or the hotel room? or her dress? Her freedom of being the woman on the island turns into a forced self-reckoning of who she is for the rest of the year.
Until August is, of course, not just about the story drafted by Gabriel García Márquez but an interesting case study of a ‘Lost Novel’ (as advertised on the cover). Should we, as readers, writers, editors or careholders of ‘lost novels’ of authors cherished by the world, resurrect the untold stories? You can tell that an effort of treating the original document as a foundation, with a tone familiar to García Márquez’s other novels, and a lot of care went into this book. However, it begs the question that if the author, whose final judgement was that this book ‘doesn’t work’ and ‘must be destroyed’ (viii), asks for a book not to be released, should have their wish granted?
As a newcomer to the magical realism genre and Gabriel García Márquez, the artistry and perfectionism that goes into the craft of his novels is unimaginable. From reading the preface and some of the comments left in the original manuscript, he sounded incredibly controlling over his work, and what I imagine many authors would feel when unable to continue writing. In the preface, he mentions the importance of memory as his ‘source material and tool’ and that without his memory, ‘there’s nothing’ (vii). A truly heartbreaking reality of what the author was going through. With this prior knowledge, I read the novel more so out of interest of what can be pieced, woven and brought together in this situation.
The pivotal moment, the ‘grand finale’ as it was referred to as in a comment on the manuscript, is the third to last paragraph of the story. I won’t spoil what this scene is, but to me, it feels like a very familiar scene in a García Márquez book with a circular story plot, a character’s intense self-reflection and reckoning of their situation. The scene almost stands outside of the story's context, time or place in a resonating way. Until August draws me more for the interest in the background of the book than the story itself– and directs the question of should readers demand the resurrection of Lost Novels.
But then…
August 16– the ferry, the hotel, the taxi, the gladioli, cleaning her mother’s grave– Ana takes a lover for a single night on the island. And the next year, and the next. The routine initially excites her before turning somewhat sour– is it the men? or the hotel room? or her dress? Her freedom of being the woman on the island turns into a forced self-reckoning of who she is for the rest of the year.
Until August is, of course, not just about the story drafted by Gabriel García Márquez but an interesting case study of a ‘Lost Novel’ (as advertised on the cover). Should we, as readers, writers, editors or careholders of ‘lost novels’ of authors cherished by the world, resurrect the untold stories? You can tell that an effort of treating the original document as a foundation, with a tone familiar to García Márquez’s other novels, and a lot of care went into this book. However, it begs the question that if the author, whose final judgement was that this book ‘doesn’t work’ and ‘must be destroyed’ (viii), asks for a book not to be released, should have their wish granted?
As a newcomer to the magical realism genre and Gabriel García Márquez, the artistry and perfectionism that goes into the craft of his novels is unimaginable. From reading the preface and some of the comments left in the original manuscript, he sounded incredibly controlling over his work, and what I imagine many authors would feel when unable to continue writing. In the preface, he mentions the importance of memory as his ‘source material and tool’ and that without his memory, ‘there’s nothing’ (vii). A truly heartbreaking reality of what the author was going through. With this prior knowledge, I read the novel more so out of interest of what can be pieced, woven and brought together in this situation.
The pivotal moment, the ‘grand finale’ as it was referred to as in a comment on the manuscript, is the third to last paragraph of the story. I won’t spoil what this scene is, but to me, it feels like a very familiar scene in a García Márquez book with a circular story plot, a character’s intense self-reflection and reckoning of their situation. The scene almost stands outside of the story's context, time or place in a resonating way. Until August draws me more for the interest in the background of the book than the story itself– and directs the question of should readers demand the resurrection of Lost Novels.