July 2005


I stare at the screen. The cursor blinks. Ages ago someone might have stared at a cave’s wall or papyrus sheet, blank, waiting for the signs to appear. The magical signs that would transmit the joy of a hunt, the pain of a loneliness, the thrill of a discovery. And they do. But first, the story must appear in the mind. The tools in the hands have changed, the way stories surface from the sea of mind didn’t.

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I’m not a great connoisseur of Gabriel García Márquez prose, in fact, “Doce cuentos peregrinos” (“Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories“) that I’m reading now is my first real encounter with his work. And this collection of twelve short stories is also the second real book I read in Spanish. It’s not as easy to read in that language for me as Coelho, since Márquez’s language is much richer and complex. Yet, I really like it and I would like to recommend this book, as it seems to be a good introduction to Márquez.

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