No Love in the Time of Cholera

I’m feeling guilty. I’ve just finished reading a modern masterpiece. A work heralded as one of the great literary achievements of the past 30 years. A tangled love story spanning three lifetimes. And yet, I was left feeling wildly indifferent toward the whole affair.

Was anyone else disappointed by Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez?

At times the writing was lyrical. There is some nice symbolism and interplay between notions of modernity and romantic idealism. But the characters… What’s the point of a romance if you feel nothing but indifference for the protagonists? I found them to be too flawed, too delusional, and too (self) deceptive. Perhaps that is the point. A deep, abiding love can be experienced by anyone. Or perhaps, the need for love can corrupt one’s character without corrupting the love itself.

Either way, I just didn’t feel it.