Love In The Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez is in one of those 100-books-to-read-before-you-die lists. This book took me years to finish, literally. I bought my copy more than three years ago (I couldn’t even remember exactly when, but I can recall exactly where) when it was mentioned in The Oprah Winfrey Show. You see, at one point in my life, I was a fan of Oprah Winfrey and I believed in anything which she was recommending, from books to shoes. So I picked this book up without much hesitation.
I found the first few pages absorbing, probably because I was reading them in the right environment with the right ambience. But thereafter, I struggled to finish it. I took a long break midway (and finished a number of chick lits in the mean time). I had to force myself to finish it last month when I was starting off my reading mission. So yeay, I was so relieved when I reached the last page. Yes, relieved. Not the right adjective to use for a self-professed book lover, but that’s the truth.
Love In The Time of Cholera is well-written, but it is not my cup of tea. It is romantic… imagine a man who waited for 50 years for his one true love. In this time and age, five years is long enough for a wait… but 50 years! But I don’t really buy romantic, and I don’t agree with the way the protagonist (i.e. the man) spent his life throughout the wait.
Will I read this book again? Maybe. Will I recommend it to friends? No, because I don’t think that they will buy the story either.