“A short time later, when the carpenter was taking measurements for the coffin, through the window they saw a light rain of tiny yellow flowers falling. They fell on the town all through the night in a silent storm, and they covered the roofs and blocked the doors and smothered the animals who slept outdoors.”
One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez 1967
Of course it’s raining yellow flowers. Of course premonitions and predictions come true. It is the ultimate magic land. I did not want to read this book again. I read it in college, then immediately reread it. What an incredible story and feat of writing. I have stayed away from it until now because I wanted to savor the memory. I knew another reading couldn’t compare. I always mentioned it as one of my favorite books, but never gave it a later chance. Until now. And I’m glad I did.
This book just hit me hard with its magical power. A delightful kaleidoscope of a village and a family. I just wanted to ease into a yellow sleep under the raining flowers. Lots of yellow and gold in this book make it shimmer page after page. The yellow flowers have stuck with me for almost 40 years – I had to paint that scene. Although Colonel Aureliano Buendia’s golden fish, the traveling butterflies, the flowing blood making its own patterns and the opening line about ice…..whew. Every sentence has something. I’m glad I came back. March 2014