Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave the room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.
Most people prefer reading novels that are light, fast paced and simple. Something like One Hundred Years Of Solitude would not interest them, for they fail to appreciate it’s sheer brilliance. The first time I read the book about two years back, I took a long time to finish it, and I didn’t grasp most of it. I recently read Living To Tell The Tale, also by Marquez, which revealed the connections the book had to his own life, and the situations that led to its origin. That’s how I was seized with an urge to re-read One Hundred Years Of Solitude. This time, it made more sense, and was more enjoyable, to be honest.
Although I can’t claim to have interpreted all the symbolism and metaphors, I’ve come to appreciate the subtleties and the beauty of magical realism, and to empathize with the tragedy of the intricately weaved characters, and the town sentenced to a hundred years of solitude.