If I have ten and a hundred more thumbs I give it up for Gabriel García Márquez. One Hundred Years of Solitude is a tale of four generations of the Buendía family in a mythical town of Macondo where they settled to flee from a curse and a crime that put a heavy weight on their conscience. This is a very good piece of literature with an infectious sense of humor and madness that only Márquez and his fertile mind in a boundless continuum of sanity and insanity can fabricate. If a crazy mind can win one a Nobel Prize like the author did, then I’d want to be crazy but in a way, that just like Márquez, can develop a prose unlike any other.
“Those hallucinating sessions remained printed on the memories of the boys in such a way that many years later, a second before the regular army officer gave the firing squad the command to fire, Colonel Aureliano Buendía saw once more that warm March afternoon on which his father had interrupted the lesson in physics and stood fascinated, with his hand in the air and his eyes motionless, listening to the distant pipes, the drums, and jingles of the gypsies, who were coming to the village once more, announcing the latest and most startling discovery of the sages of Memphis.
They were new gypsies, young men and women who knew only their own language, handsome specimens with oily skins and intelligent hands, whose dances and music sowed a panic of uproarious joy through the streets, with parrots painted all colors reciting Italian airas, and a hen who laid a hundred golden eggs to the sound of a tambourine, and a trained monkey who read minds, and the multiple-use machine that could be used at the same time to sew buttons and reduce fevers, and the apparatus to make a person forget his bad memories, and a poultice to lose time, and a thousand more inventions so ingenious and so unusual that José Arcadio Buendía must have wanted to invent a memory machine so that he could remember them all. In an instant they transformed the village. The inhabitants of Macondo found themselves lost in their own streets, confused by the crowded fair.”