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After spending a lifetime getting it on with prostitutes of them to be precise 2. After spending a lifetime getting it on with prostitutes of them to be precise, before losing count the unnamed journalist fancies a nice young virgin for his 90th birthday. On the first of many occasions, he enters a room to discover the chosen girl of 14, naked and asleep. Over time he obsesses about her; writes columns that drive his readers into a frenzy; kisses her everywhere and reads to her as she sleeps. But never consummates the relationship sexually or sees her awake.

The whole scenario of such an elderly man wanted to bed someone so young just put me off, but this wasn't the biggest of it's problems. Simply put, I found it dull and lazy. The narrator's wit and charm were not enough to counterbalance the monotony of his aimlessness, and sadly as a result, I never at any moment felt anything for anyone involved. It could have worked out better if I tried to look at things from the perspective of the protagonist, but I chose not to. I didn't want to be in his mind, his pants, or in his bed.

No wonder the whores were melancholic, they were probably also fed up, I don't blame them. Was expecting so much more, this felt like Gabriel's bad day at the office, but I guess we do all have them. View all 21 comments. View all 4 comments. The man can write an opening line. And so begins an intriguing story of a man who finally falls in love at the ripe age of 90 with a year-old prostitute.

However, I must warn you of these them "The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin. However, I must warn you of these themes if you cannot stomach it. The subject matter may be difficult to discuss considering that we, as a society, have constantly frowned at sex and its association with the elderly. No, it isn't the erotic fantasy of a dirty old man. The narrative has its sensuality, and a tragic sense of heart-rendering passion that is always unfulfilled, yet it is still wholesome at the core.

I'd definitely recommend this for an evening read as it is a relatively short story. May 12, Glenn Sumi rated it really liked it Shelves: A Latin-American "Lolita" Lite or: Reading it felt like catching up with a grizzled old friend who can tell a mean story. Once sniffed, it's impossible to tear yourself away.


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And now, old, wrinkled, his joints and other things creaky, he falls. But absolutely no regrets. The fact is, the burst of energy the man gets from his rather chaste relationship with Delgadina suddenly gives his life meaning and purpose. His columns, many of them now about love, become famous in town; radio hosts read them to thousands of listeners. The pacing is impeccable. Several characters — from the brothel madame, Rosa Cabarcas, to the narrator's hard-working, tireless maid — snap to life in a few sharp sentences and lines of dialogue. As a 90th birthday present, the old man is given an old cat, who pads his way through a few scenes without becoming too obvious a symbol.

In one heartbreaking episode the narrator hooks up with an old sexual partner and instead of getting physical, they talk honestly about their lives and their age, which feels even more intimate than sex. There's not one wasted word. If you're too young, you may not get as much out of this. You need to have chalked up some regrets. It's one of those "the unexamined life is not worth living" books. Prepare to think about your own history of love. To be nostalgic for a time and place you never even knew. To laugh and weep over the surprises, joys and melancholic moments of a long, fully inhabited life.

View all 24 comments. View all 10 comments. Nunca se ha casado ni ha hecho grandes cambios en su vida: He maintains a long business relationship with the owner of the brothel he frequents. That is why on the eve of his ninety years he calls her and asks for something unusual: He has never married or made any big changes in his life: Due to the shortage of money his life is becoming more precarious. He has sold almost everything marketable of his once good family bonanza and ends his days being really poor. When he meets his young virgin she is asleep and is always like that because the brothel's owner drug her a little to make it easier for her to lose her virginity.

At some point she between dreams responds something and he realizes that he prefers her sleeping. He falls in love with the girl he calls Delgadina, but he never knows her name. And this platonic love makes him do things that he has never done or has resisted doing, like change the themes in his publications and in a few months that he is not seeing her, desperate he would ride a bike and look for her in all the places where he thinks he can find her.

View all 18 comments. View all 16 comments. I really didn't like this story. The writing as always was wonderful - the descriptions, the language, the character development - all excellent. The story however was extremely disturbing and sad. Chapter 1 in particular, when the narrator describes how upon turning 90 he decided he wanted to have sex with a young virgin was appalling. Then the local madam finds a 14 year old, poor, illiterate girl for him.

He goes to see her and finds her asleep because she had been so afraid she had to be sed I really didn't like this story. He goes to see her and finds her asleep because she had been so afraid she had to be sedated. Although he doesn't have sex with her because she's asleep, he describes her naked body in detail - describing her pre-pubescent breasts, etc. It was disgusting and disturbing. This book wasn't written in a time when this was even discreetly acceptable, it was written in when it is considered by most societies, certainly Garcia-Marquez's society as taboo.

He did it to shock and titillate - well all it did was disgust me. He's a brilliant writer, he doesn't need these gimmicks. View all 12 comments. Jun 14, Lynda rated it really liked it Shelves: I'm ugly, shy and anachronistic. But by dint of not wanting to be those things I have pretended to be just the opposite. Until today, when I have resolved to tell of my own free will just what I'm like, if only to ease my conscience.

The beginning of a new life at an age when most mortals have already died. This subject is often considered taboo and is relegated to derogatory humour. Some examples of the myths include: Sometimes, in the end, it is impossible not to become what others believe you are. Recent research shows that as we get older, our senses of taste, smell, and sight diminish, and our capacity for strenuous activities and exertion decline. Naturally, our sexual sensations and the ability to perform sexually will modestly decline. But decline is not the end, right? Am I glad to hear that!

Memories of My Melancholy Whores is a tale about romance in old age, enticingly sensual yet often tragic and sad. It is about an unnamed second-rate reporter who on the eve of his 90th birthday decides to give himself "a night of mad love with a virgin adolescent".

As much as that statement may hit some in the face, and potentially raise questions about why you decided to read this book, one is soon drawn in to the lonely and disconnected life of this old man. On his 90th birthday, the old man awakes, as always, at 5am in the morning: He starts to think about his life and what it means to be old. He was close to marrying once, but it was a loveless union that he could not commit to. He had never gone to bed with a woman he didn't pay and the few who weren't in the profession, he persuaded to take money. At 20 he began to keep a record of his liaisons, listing name, age, place, and a brief notation on the circumstances and style of lovemaking.

By the time he was 50 there were women with whom he had been with, at least once. His claim to fame is that he'd been with such a variety of companions that he was twice crowned client of the year! She informs him that she knows precisely his desires and requests that he visit the whorehouse later that evening.

Freshly washed, dressed and pressed, he visits the whorehouse and is presented with a 14 year old adolescent. She is a seamstress who desperately needs additional funds to support her impoverished family. She is so anxious by events that Rosa has to give the girl a mixture of bromide and valerian to drink, so that by the time the old man sees her, she is asleep in the enormous bed for hire.

A warm current travelled up my veins, and my slow, retired animal woke from its long sleep. I was ignorant of the arts of seduction and had always chosen my brides for a night at random, more for their price than their charms, and we made love without love, half-dressed most of the time and always in the dark so we could imagine ourselves as better than we were. That night I discovered the improbable pleasure of contemplating the body of a sleeping woman without the urgencies of desire or the obstacles of modesty.

He calls her Delgadina, a girl in a song, and he brings her small gifts. Each time they meet they sleep side by side, with him mostly looking at and smelling her. Occasionally he kisses and caresses her tired young body as she snoozes.


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  5. She doesn't speak with him; their intimacy is silent, tranquil. The old man soon falls madly in love, that first time, intense, giddy kind of love. He simply becomes another man and his eyes and soul are opened to the invincible power of unrequited love. It drives him crazy and he pours his feelings out in his local column. Soon his readers are living this life with him, many conversant with the feeling of being completely, hopelessly, desperately in love with someone, all the while knowing that their feelings will never reach them.

    It's like drowning but you just won't fucking die. He begins to realise that all of his previous years with prostitutes have been wasted years. When he finally finds a connection at 90, which most of us are lucky to experience in youth, the reader is left with no choice but to acknowledge the possibility that truth and beauty may be found in the strangest of places and times.

    The power of love is limitless and does not fit neatly into a box. It transforms people regardless of the conditions under which it comes into existence. One thing this book did make me think about was where I'd be, who I'd be with, and the type of person I would be at I love life and live it to the full and I want to stick around on this earth for as long as I possibly can.

    I want to be just like Betty White Betty White clips The secret to successful aging is never retiring from life, always having a mission or a reason for living. And hey, if I can still enjoy the sexual pleasures of life at that age, then bring it on! Be sure to enjoy each day GR friends by staying active doing what you love to do.

    And, you may just live long enough to find out that many things will naturally take care of themselves. View all 32 comments. How to explain myself, if such a thing is necessary or possible. Should I even bother?

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    Will you be able to see things from my point of view? Could you find it in your heart to forgive me? Ironically, perhaps, if you believe in God, the Holy Spirit, then you might be more likely to understand me and therefore to forgive. My desire is not so much that you understand what I have done. Therein lies the path to forgiveness. It depends on understanding me, my nature, not what I do.

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    Anyway, I will begin my explanation now. I have had to live with myself for 91 years. During almost every day that I can remember, I have asked myself the same questions: Perhaps you have asked yourself the same things? Every day, I have looked at my body, I have scrutinized my mind, and I have thought that this is not the real me. I am something different. The best way to explain this is to say, in the simplest way possible, that I am my soul. I am not my body, I am not my mind, I am my soul. I am separate from them. Before this body and this mind, I resided in other bodies and minds.

    I have no way of telling how many or for how long. These things are not revealed to our souls. However, I feel confident that there have been many. Speaking to my friends and comparing pasts, I have resolved that I, my soul, am at least 5, years old. Sometimes I wonder why I am not older. It fascinates me whether the body or the mind will succumb first, but usually the time between deaths is not long.

    It doesn't really matter. The important thing is to be close to another carrier, so that I can embark on the next stage of my journey. Bodies, in particular, seem to be driven by DNA. They want to fuck all the time.

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    Well, in that case, their minds are thinking about fucking. Ironically, Delgadina is only fourteen. The strange thing is that our soul age counts for nothing on earth. No matter how religious somebody might be, they still judge us by our body age, not the age of our mind or our soul. Even though Delgadina is technically an adult at age fourteen, people still think of her as a child. Little do they know, her mind is superior to mine. In our most recent life before this one, she topped our college in her last year. Sometimes, for her own benefit, I wish she would speak out more in this life, so people appreciated her mind, not just her body.

    Perhaps, that will come with time. I'm already teaching her to read, write and paint. In the last, we had actually been married, but only in our seventies. She had enjoyed a long marriage. I had remained faithful, well, as best I could after lovers. So many of them had been whores, but they were still women, all of them.

    Delgadina was determined to find out what it had been like to be one of my whores. She knew me well enough, after four earth relationships, to know that the best way to get my undivided attention was to manifest herself as a fourteen year old girl. She was promised to me. Well, her virginity was. Several times, we went through a ritual whereby I was supposed to deflower her. Each time, I slept next to her, and did nothing but caress her or kiss each centimeter of her body.

    I even began to question myself, which was a first for me. People judge me as if I have done something wrong.

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    I wonder whether these people know what it means to be a soul. To be condemned to live forever although is it really such a condemnation? To wander from body to body in search of another soul. To, at last, find a soul to whom you can relate, let alone, in my case, one who coincidentally I have loved before.

    These are things that mean something to you in eternity. Not whether one of you is 90 or These are just numbers. Hands that move in a circular fashion around the watch face of time. They mean nothing to someone, to two lovers, like us, whose soul lives have already lasted almost six millennia and show no signs of giving up. Instead, I think of her soul. Meanwhile, she smiles when she thinks of how much more experience of life she has had than me. If only I could die now and start another life ahead of her. But, vain man that I am, I have resolved that, in this life at least, I want to see out a century.

    It comforts me that, when I lie awake in bed, sometimes I can derive some pleasure from observing her naked, legs apart, breasts spread across her chest, dreaming of me, her 90 year old stallion. Playboy Seeks Sex Toy The more I read Marquez' post-Nobel Prize works, the more I'm convinced that his modus operandi is to invent characters and situations that will outrage many, if not most, readers.

    Here, a sexually-active nonagenarian is offered a fledgling 14 year old virgin whore to celebrate his birthday. Whether or not he deflowers the girl, whether or not he might only have watched the girl sleeping, he would be condemned by the reader. Society objects not just to the act, but to both the desire and the intention.

    The problem is that Marquez employs beautiful language in his enterprise. In fact, I've always suspected that, as I suspect of Nabokov, he writes a straightforward tale of love and sex, then, only then, twists or perverts it, by adding an element of the forbidden, the taboo, the immoral, the illegal. Without the perversion, it would be a work of beauty. What happens when he tweaks the ages of the participants?

    Would a story of love and sex involving a 40 year old male and a 30 year old female be acceptable? Well, what happens when the age of the male is dialled up to 90 and the girl down to 14? Something in our minds registers, this should not be happening, something is wrong. Marquez might not explicitly ask, why is it wrong.

    He might not be expressly challenging morality. It exists, whether we like it or not. However, I think he is asking us whether, as a work of art, it is any less beautiful because it is transgressive. Part of what he is doing is questioning the aesthetic nature of transgression. In the epigraph from that book, old Eguchi is warned by the madam not to do anything in bad taste. The specific caveat is not to "put his finger into the mouth of the sleeping girl". Different things are forbidden at different times and in different cultures.

    The act of writing the novel doesn't mean that Marquez advocates child abuse in real life. He just wants to ask these questions and explore these issues within the realm of art. Again, like Nabokov, he wants to treat art and literature as a playground. He wants to explore not just desire and intention, but the imagination as well. By doing so, he asks of the reader that we suspend moral judgment and engage pure aesthetic judgment. Not all of us will want to, not all of us will be able to.

    In this way, he doesn't just confront us with his subject matter, he confronts us with our own temperaments. He utilises the response of the reader as part of his creative enterprise. His works are all the greater, because they involve and implicate us.

    Memories of My Melancholy Whores

    Angels Surround the Bed of Delgadina Let us share a bed. You can sleep if you need to. I'm content to watch. Breathless I kissed your body. I inhaled your wild fragrance. It made me breathless. Dear Girl I'll write words for you. View all 15 comments. Dec 27, Robert rated it it was amazing Recommends it for: Men who love women. In English, many things are named after a particular country — but have you ever wondered what those things are called in those countries? Many words formed by the addition of the suffix —ster are now obsolete - which ones are due a resurgence?

    As their breed names often attest, dogs are a truly international bunch. Whether English is your first language, your second, or your nineteenth, you may have experienced trouble with all the words that end in -ough…. We use cookies to enhance your experience on our website. This website uses cookies that provide targeted advertising and which track your use of this website.