page 141 of 429 of One Hundred Years of Solitude

I think the thing that surprises me most about the novel is its violence and also its sadness. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, but this is far more real than I anticipated.

And that’s ironic, that reality, since the book is filled with ghosts, men tied to chestnut trees, magic carpets, streams of blood flowing up curbs and through the neighborhood back to its owner’s mother.

It’s dizzy fascinating.