How should we look at the book One Hundred Years of Solitude? I don't remember feeling particularly excited or sad when reading this book. I feel that words flow before my eyes like water, although it is difficult to understand genealogy, sometimes reality and sometimes magical writing skills, completely unfamiliar places and history ... I seem to take it for granted that these aspects disrupt my reading rhythm. I still read page by page in an almost motionless posture, and I don't know what I was thinking when I read it, just like I just woke up in the summer vacation when I was a child. I didn't get up and I wasn't waiting for anything. What am I doing? I don't know myself. However, it is incredible that when reading this story which should not be a comedy, I actually felt a kind of happiness similar to calm and calm. It's like I know that people will die of old age, but I still can't help smiling when the sun shines.
This is a very romantic book without love. Everyone is resisting loneliness in his own unique way, whether he is participating in the revolution or doing manual labor repeatedly, indulging in sex, reading and translating. ...