I read One Hundred Years of Solitude during the winter break two months ago – spoiler warning for those who haven’t finished since it’s hard to separate the first half from the second in retrospect. Some of the details of the plot have faded from my mind, yet the overall effect remains: this is a beautiful book. This didn’t fully hit me until the last chapter; though I enjoyed it immensely the full way through, the final scene was like waking up from a dream and discovering that I had practically been in a trance for the past few weeks. As cliché as it is, there really is no better word to describe it than “magical.” The whole thing is infused with this sense of playful wonder and it has quickly cemented itself among my favourite books ever.
A defining characteristic of many of my favourite books is the elevation of the mundane to incredible through literary elaboration; Ulysses is my favourite book of all time yet almost nothing actually happens in it. Márquez does the opposite and achieves a similar effect. So much takes place throughout the century this book covers, yet it can feel like nothing happens at all. Even the most marvelous events are portrayed in the same deadpan historical tone and no character is given much inner development; at times, it barely feels like a work of fiction at all. Despite this, it is one of the most imaginative books I’ve ever read. There really is something childlike about it all; it’s like seeing the world without all those preconceptions that we’ve picked up, freed from expectations of reality, morality, modernity and narrative for a smooth plane in which everything is equally possible and nothing is elevated above anything else.
While reading, I kept trying to figure out who the real protagonist of the story was. Early on I figured out that José Arcadio Buendía and Colonel Aureliano Buendía were decoys; as important as they are in certain sections, both are absent for too much of the narrative to fulfill this role in the bigger picture. I then convinced myself that Úrsula was the real hero for how long she persisted and kept order while others came and went. This theory was also disappointed when she too died well before the ending. My next option was Pilar Ternera, who, though seemingly marginal, lives longer than anyone else, first appearing in chapter 2 and not dying until the last chapter. Or was it Melquiades, the mysterious traveller from the opening chapter who survives two deaths to reappear as a spirit and ultimately predict the demise of Macondo in the final scene? None of these possibilities was really satisfying. Ultimately, a book as decentered as this one has no need for a protagonist; if anything, Macondo itself is the protagonist. Or, if we can permit a bit of pretension, maybe that titular spirit of Solitude who comes to visit everyone sooner or later is the real central figure. Maybe a stretch for any other book, but for one such as this where anything is possible, why not?
Who or what do others think could best be characterized as the “protagonist” of this book?
Yes, this is an un-centered novel, and to also be a bit pretentious, I would almost say rhizomatic. I agree with you in another aspect: Úrsula and Pilar Ternera are two characters that tie many of the plots together, who without touching closely divert (or bring closer?) to the characters and their destiny. Macondo is the protagonist, as Dublin is in Joyce’s book? How are these two spaces built? I would like to know your opinion about it.
Hi Owen!
Great blog post! Your description of feeling like you woke up from a dream when reading the last scene, was really well put and I can definitely relate to that. I especially enjoyed your breakdown of the different characters and the reasons for why none of them could be the book’s protagonist. To answer your question, I would say no one. I feel like the story was quite circular and that every character essentially reached the same, sad end. Therefore, there wasn’t really a need to have a protagonist because every character was the protagonist of their own story, and once they reached their end it moved on to someone else. At least that’s how I saw it as.
I think that perhaps solitude was the main character. In this way, I thought of the characters as examples or inhabitants of such solitude, how they came about, how it might delineate as a kind of legacy or curse, and how it comes and goes with the passing (or non-passing) of time. Macondo, I think acts more than just a setting or location, it seems to be another major character as well – which then means that Macondo itself went through bouts of solitude… i.e., the rain, the droughts… Anyway, I think a strong, abstract argument could be made for solitude as the main character, as both protagonist, antagonist, and witness.
Hi Owen! I really enjoyed your post. I think your comments do a really good job to capture the very specific atmosphere that Garcia Marquez works in every aspect of the narrative. While I haven’t finished the book yet, so far my answer to your question would be the town. It seems as though the Buendias’ story just happens to line up the most succinctly with that of the development of Macondo.