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Author Spotlight: Gabriel García Márquez

Gabriel García Márquez (Ulf Andersen/Getty Images) Gabriel García Márquez (Ulf Andersen/Getty Images)

Gabriel García Márquez, who doesn’t know Gabriel García Márquez? Affectionately known as Gabo throughout South America, Márquez is widely renowned as one of the most significant authors of the 20th century.

García Márquez was a Colombian author, known for works such as One Hundred Years of Solitude, Love in the Time of Cholera and Chronicle of a Death Foretold. During a career that spanned several decades, his work earned him many accolades including the Neustadt International Prize for Literature in 1972 and the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982. He is considered an early pioneer of magical realism.

García Márquez was born in Aracataca, Colombia in 1927 and raised by his maternal grandparents, whose ideological and political beliefs would heavily influence his later work. One Hundred Years of Solitude was the culmination of his desire to write a novel based on his grandparents house where he grew up. He struggled with the idea of this novel initially, but once he broke through his writer’s block, he worked on the novel every day for eighteen months. Cien Años de Soledad, the novel’s Spanish title, was released in 1967 and was critically and commercially popular, with William Kennedy calling it, “the first piece of literature since the Book of Genesis that should be required reading for the entire human race.” Carlos Fuentes, fellow novelist, called him the “most popular and perhaps the best Spanish writer since Cervantes.”

Some recurring themes and elements present in his work include solitude, armed conflict, and the setting of a fictional village called Macondo. Magic realism is a staple, with many of his stories featuring events that are seemingly impossible, yet often treated as mundane, commonplace and even expected by the characters within them. Between 1962 and 2004, García Márquez published many novels, short stories and short story collections. He died of pneumonia at age 87 in April 2014.

After his death, then-president of Colombia, Juan Manuel Santos, described him as the greatest Colombian that ever lived. Such a description is typical of the respect that Márquez commanded, a result of his respectable body of work. If you haven’t read any of his work, I suggest you do so now. Seriously, stop right now and check this week’s short story “The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World”. That should get you started. After that, I personally recommend One Hundred Years of Solitude, or Love in the Time of Cholera.


Author Spotlight: J. D. Salinger

J. D, Salinger in 1953. (Photo by Rex Features, found on J. D, Salinger in 1953. (Photo by Rex Features, found on

Jerome David Salinger, also known as JD Salinger, was born to wealthy parents in New York City in 1919. He discovered a love and talent for writing early, and began writing short stories while in secondary school. He continued writing and had many short stories published before he went to Europe and served in World War II. Upon his return, his short story “A Perfect Day for Bananafish”, published in 1948, received critical acclaim. The Catcher in the Rye, his only full length novel and the work for which he is best known, was published in 1951 and was met with immediate success and critical acclaim. Being a private person, he struggled with the fame that this work brought him for the rest of his life. After the release of The Catcher in the Rye, he became reclusive and published work less frequently. In 1953, however he published Nine Stories, a collection of short stories that includes “The Laughing Man”, our story up for discussion this week.

Salinger often wrote about youth; he himself has been quoted as saying; I almost always write about very young people. His writing is renowned for its  realistic and sparse dialogue, and often deals with innocence and adolescence, the disconnect between genuine children and phoney adults, and the corrupting influence of Hollywood and the world at large.

Salingers body of work has influenced many prominent writers including Pulitzer Prize winners John Updike and Philip Roth.

Salinger died of natural causes in 2010. He left behind several unpublished works that according to a biographer are scheduled to be released on a set timetable from 2015-2020.


Editors note: This article only begins to touch on the interesting subject of JD Salinger. From banned books and murderers to teenaged lovers, I recommend both the following film and the Documentary Salinger available on Netflix.

“Because I liked it” — a legitimate critique?

If I reviewed a story and my conclusion was that the book was good, because I liked it, would that be enough for you? I’m guessing the answer is no, but before we dismiss the notion entirely, let’s pause for a moment and actually delve deeper into the question. Is saying something is good (or bad) because you liked it (or disliked it) a legitimate critique? Well, of course the answer lies in what we mean by legitimate critique. I’m not going to go to official definitions here but let’s start with critique.

Let’s start by defining critique as an evaluation of the merits and shortcomings of something — its good and bad points. In this sense, saying that you like something is not a critique at all. However, saying that it’s good could be viewed as a critique, if albeit a very limited one. The decision  to assess something as good or bad needs you, at the very least, to determine that it has good points that you like, or bad points that you do not like, for whatever reason. This in itself is an evaluation of sorts.

Now, legitimate: what would make something a legitimate critique? This is a bit harder, because different people will give you a different response. Some people will flat out tell you that you need more justification than your own personal preference for a critique to be legitimate; that your own preference is simply biased. I ask those people, what isn’t biased? And is bias inherently a bad thing? For example, my friend has exactly the same taste in books as I do — if she tells me something is good, I’m more likely to take her word for it than the word of a professional critic, or someone giving a more ‘impartial’ analysis. I know her, and I can vouch for her taste, biased as it may be. It’s biased in the right direction—towards me.

Often, when we say legitimate, what we’re really alluding to is whether the critique is actually good. I say that despite being legitimate, this particular critique is not good. In order for a critique to be good it needs to have something backing it up other than the critic’s own personal preferences. Let’s say, for example, that before you can call a story good you have to examine its use of various narrative structures and tools, its pacing, the depth of its characters, etc. Let’s say that two different critics examine all these things in one story, and at the end of it they come to opposite conclusions. Critic A praises the author’s use of certain narrative tools, whereas Critic B derides the use of these same tools. So what does this say? That one critic has a better understanding than the other when it comes to critical analysis? Perhaps, but before we allow ourselves to venture down that road, let’s remind ourselves that we are talking about art here. Not science, art. What may be good and enjoyable for one person, is not for another.

I’m sure some of you can already see what I’m getting at here. If we break it down, the difference between two people’s opinion of  a work as good or bad can come down to the differences in preferences of those two people; essentially because they liked/didn’t like the story. What I’m alluding to, in a really roundabout way, is that with art, unless you’re critiquing the specific merits of something, for example, character development or depth of plot, an evaluation of something is often about how much the person evaluating it likes it or not. Often, works that are considered good are those that a lot of people like, and works that are considered bad are those that hardly anybody likes.

So let’s come back to the question of whether or not because I liked it is a legitimate critique or not. Technically that critique is legitimate, but also piss-poor and lazy. It conveys nothing about the merits of a story, but it is legitimate. But I think most people don’t want to settle for legitimate; they want to be good. To do that, you can build from the very legitimate reaction of “I liked it” and strengthen it with critical analysis — why did you like it? Tell me that, and that’s both a legitimate and good critique.


A Note From Our Final Co-host

First of all, I want to give a big thank you to Maya for thinking of me to be a part of the Literary Roadhouse, and also to Anais and Gerald for making me feel a welcome part of the team. I haven’t known any of them for long, but it feels like I have, and I’m happy with the rapport that we’ve already established; it will only get better.

I’m happy you’re here too, yes you, our listeners, our readers, our fellow comrades on this new and exciting journey. Just one story has the power to grip you and transport you to another world; to a place unknown, unfamiliar but exciting. Think then of, with one short story a week, all the places we can go to, the author’s minds that we can glimpse into, and better yet, the fact that we have somewhere to share that experience with other lovers of fiction, here at the Literary Roadhouse. I’m looking forward to seeing other people’s reactions to the stories we read, to hearing thoughts different from my own and learning about how different parts of stories influence different people in different ways. I’m looking forward to hearing from you, hearing your thoughts and feelings about the stories we encounter or about fiction in general. Most importantly, I’m looking forward to encouraging people to read more, especially those people who haven’t yet had the experience of picking up, reading and enjoying a really good book, one that teaches them something new or leaves them with lingering emotions that have the power to affect their lives even after they’ve finished with the story. Because fiction is a beautiful thing, and it’s great to have the opportunity to share it with people who may be missing out. So really, this is all just to say a big hello to all of you, and to let you know that I’m looking forward to starting this journey.