Pure Writerly Moments 2 (Short Stories, Essays, Book Reviews, and More)

Return to Macondo! A Review of 100 Years of Solitude

I read this book for the second time at a strange time in my life. My heart seemed impenetrable to the magic of the world. And yet, little by little, I found myself living in Macondo. I found myself tied to the oak tree with Jose Arcadio Buendia babbling in Latin. I found myself marveling at the inventions of the gypsies. I found myself in love.

As I read this book, I found myself gradually rediscovering Nagasaki's magic. The glittering diamond seas of Nagasaki Kinkai.

The cat, Gigi, that lives near the park. The strong, cool March breeze that clears the sinuses in Sakinou Park. The 10-minute walk up the hill to my university, with its magnificent view of Togitsu Bay: these all took on a new, epic grandeur, the same way Marquez had instilled Macondo with an epic grandeur.

The deep sadness that had affected me of late soon took on a kind of dramatic meaning.

The triumphs and tragedies of my life now seemed like the rocks on which the Macondo river that runs through: jagged, cruel, beautiful, and inscrutable.

My life has been full of triumphs and tragedies, but that's what makes it so beautiful. Like the river running through Macondo, my life has been jagged, cruel, and inscrutable. But along with these hardships have come moments of joy and wonder.

Soon, I too shall start babbling in ancient tongues so that I can communicate truths as Jose Aracado Buendia did.

There is no insomnia pandemic in Nagasaki, but there does seem to be a widespread infection of melancholy. What tools do I have to fight his infection. I avoid the charlatan doctor Noguera and ask my favorite writers, Senor Murakami, Senor Vonnegut, e Senior Marquez.

"Dream in proportion to your sorrow," they say to me.

And so, I do...I dream...epic dreams...and when I wake up, I wake up in the Macondo District of Nagasaki, Japan.