Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel García Márquez

First, I was rather surprised by how short this book is, especially as compared to One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Memories of My Melancholy Whores didn’t move me nearly as much as One Hundred Years Solitude.  This is probably because I am thirty instead of ninety.  I’m sure it has a far greater impact on people older, and definitely wiser, than I.

Or, maybe, it’s just a guy thing.  I don’t know.

Also, it seemed more than a little ridiculous to go to a brothel, pay the madame for the services of a whore, and then, later on in the “relationship”, get angry with the person for being a whore.  Even a bit hypocritical, given the narrator’s past.

I’m sorry to say that Memories of My Melancholy Whores just didn’t do it for me. 

Rating:  4 out of 5 stars