I first read One Hundred Years of Solitude just after I finished high school (after I thought I was an adult but before I had actually traveled to Colombia). I felt an intense pressure to love this novel, a Nobel Prize-winning book by a Colombian writer. And I did love it but was uncomfortably confused by it, uncertain how a half-Colombian gringa Latina was supposed to feel about the magic and the story.
I've read it several more times since then, as well as others of his books, and each time I have found something to amaze and overwhelm. And when I read it just as I was beginning to write creative nonfiction, I realized that truth was permeable and flexible, that what one saw was sometimes different than what one felt. I feel an immense gratitude to Gabriel Garcia Marquez and the other Latino writers of magical realism for they have given my experience and my paradigm a voice and a truth.
Que descanse en paz Gabo