Friendship, García Márquez, and Dua Lipa's Literary Nudge for October

Help me connect these dots: Dua Lipa, the huge importance of friendship, and Gabriel García Marquez:

In a recent post on her Instagram, Dua Lipa shows a book by García Marquez, “One Hundred Years of Solitude”, as part of her Monthly Read for October. The novel is one of the most beautiful ones I ever read, and I’m really glad that a figure of the importance that Dua Lipa has for the youngest audiences has brought it to attention.

Maybe you want to get the book and enjoy it wildly (as I did). Or, you can wait for the Netflix adaptation that is soon to be released as a TV show, pending, I guess, on the resolution of the SAG-AFTRA conflict; best of luck to you, fellow writers. Alternatively, you can delve deeper into his work and discover a marvelous universe, as Latin American as the literary movement to which it belongs: magical realism.

Now, let's bridge the gap between discovering García Márquez's magical realism and the profound significance of friendship. In the enchanting world of his literature, you'll find not only captivating narratives or romantic love but also profound reflections on the enduring bonds that connect us all. So, whether you're drawn to the magic of his words, eagerly awaiting the Netflix adaptation, or seeking a deeper connection with his work, the essence of Latin American literature and the celebration of friendship is woven into the fabric of his storytelling.

As for the importance of friendship: usually a type of relationship placed in a second category in the hierarchy of relationships, in which romantic ones seem to be at the top, García Márquez knew how to recognize that friends are vital. I want to seize the moment and give you my favorite quote from him, not from the book in question, but from another one that I highly recommend: "Doce cuentos Peregrinos", known in English as "Strange Pilgrims" It's a collection of twelve short stories that explore various themes and characters, with a lot of elements of magical realism. This book was published in 1992 and in its prologue, he writes the loveliest thing about friendship that I want to share with you:

"I dreamed that I attended my own funeral, on foot, walking among a group of friends dressed in solemn mourning attire, but with a festive spirit. We all seemed joyful to be together. And I, more than anyone, because of that pleasant opportunity death gave me to be with my friends from Latin America, the oldest, the dearest, those I hadn't seen in a long time. At the end of the ceremony, as they began to leave, I tried to accompany them, but one of them made it clear to me with absolute severity that the party was over for me. 'You are the only one who cannot leave,' he said. It was only at that moment that I understood the notion that death means never being with your friends again."

And now a bit of advice: Cherish your books and your friends. Both of them can save your life.