Book Review: One Hundred Years of Solitude

Salam,
I'm just about more or less almost 2 months going through motherhood and pheww...'not easy' is an understatement...I'll elaborate soon. It got easier (but it's never easy...trust me), Alhamdulillah through time, and with much prayer (and tears) I'm able to pick up a book to read to ease my mind of from my PPD (post partum depression...yup, right after the beautiful birth, I came to a road on uncertainty and blankness, but again-I'll elaborate soon).

This is one of those book that I never got the chance to read although it has been in my bookshelf since who knows when. Previously, every time I try to read it, the similarity of the name of the character kept me confused that I keep turning back to the first page. EVERYTIME. and usually, it will end up unread, and again doing what it does best...collecting dust.

Thanks to my wise little zen master auji, that one day, after hitting rock bottom- he kept me in bed, not wanting any position to sleep in but on my chest. in an unknown way of him trying to ease me from my mindful self, saving his mother by wanting her to rest. At least i like to think that way, besides, they are pure being who are wise beyond our imagination, and beyond language. Not being able to run around, doing my usual chores and tiring myself down, I had no other choice but having something to read and not knowing why, i chose this one.

To my suprise, I was able to read through each page without being confuse, and after a couple of days, I found myself immersed in a story tale of an evolution of life of the Buendia's within a span of 100 years. A life of meaning full and and meaning less...much more or less through time are just cycle. It's obvious why it's a noble prize worthy. I'm a few chapter short from finishing the book, but it's safe to say, it's one of those ingenious piece of literature that is worth your 20 minute-1 hour a day to be apart of the Buendia's world instead of your current reality. Besides, where is the fine line in reality right?

I'm rambling, but it feels good to ramble again...

Love+Peace,
H

"Then they went in Jose Arcadio Buendia's room, shook him as hard as they could, shouted in his ears, put a mirror in front of his nostrils, but they could not awaken him. A short time later, when the carpenter was taking measurements for the coffin, through the window they saw a light of rain of tiny yellow flowers falling. They fell on the town all through the night in a silent storm, and they covered the roofs and blocked the doors and smothered the animals who slept outdoors. So many flowers fell from the sky that in the morning the streets were carpeted  with a compact cushion and they had to clear them away with shovels and rakes so that the funeral procession could pass by"