Gabriel Garcia Marquez_ A Life Part 3

After Luis Enrique's departure back to Cienaga, Gabito looked up Rafael Escalona, who accompanied him for a week through the towns of the Guajira-Urumita, Villanueva, El Molino, San Juan del Cesar, and possibly Fonseca. They picked up Zapata Olivella on the way and between them they organized a travelling parranda parranda, a kind of vallenato vallenato jam session and contest involving several partic.i.p.ants and huge quant.i.ties of liquor, a session which in this case included friends and relatives such as Luis Carmelo Correa from Aracataca and Poncho Cotes, a cousin of Garcia Marquez and close friend of Rafael Escalona. jam session and contest involving several partic.i.p.ants and huge quant.i.ties of liquor, a session which in this case included friends and relatives such as Luis Carmelo Correa from Aracataca and Poncho Cotes, a cousin of Garcia Marquez and close friend of Rafael Escalona.77 Forty-five years later Zapata told me, "We would go on celebratory outings. One night a car would arrive and you'd wake up the next morning with a hangover in the Guajira or the Sierra Nevada, that's what life was like then; we'd go out to someone's farm and eat a Forty-five years later Zapata told me, "We would go on celebratory outings. One night a car would arrive and you'd wake up the next morning with a hangover in the Guajira or the Sierra Nevada, that's what life was like then; we'd go out to someone's farm and eat a sancocho sancocho, or drive over the Sierra de Perija to Manaure; but always we'd end up drinking with the best accordionists of the era, Emiliano Zuleta, Carlos Noriega, Lorenzo Morales."78 Thus Escalona took his citified friend to meet the cowboy troubadours and the legendary characters of the region. Thus Escalona took his citified friend to meet the cowboy troubadours and the legendary characters of the region.

The historic centre of vallenato vallenato activity is now conventionally considered to be Valledupar itself, the capital city of El Cesar, situated in the Valley of Upar ( activity is now conventionally considered to be Valledupar itself, the capital city of El Cesar, situated in the Valley of Upar (vallenato means "born in the valley"). Once heard, traditional means "born in the valley"). Once heard, traditional vallenatos vallenatos are instantly recognizable: they have a driving, swinging beat brought about by the unusual instrumental combination of the European accordion, the African drum and the Indian are instantly recognizable: they have a driving, swinging beat brought about by the unusual instrumental combination of the European accordion, the African drum and the Indian guacharaca guacharaca (sc.r.a.per), led by the strong, a.s.sertive and defiantly masculine voice of the singer, usually the accordionist himself. (sc.r.a.per), led by the strong, a.s.sertive and defiantly masculine voice of the singer, usually the accordionist himself.79 A song by Alonso Fernandez Onate sums up the A song by Alonso Fernandez Onate sums up the vallenato's vallenato's prevailing ideology very succinctly: prevailing ideology very succinctly: I'm true vallenato vallenato born born Pure of heart and stock Indian blood in my veins Some black and Spanish on top I have my vallenato vallenato pleasures pleasures Women, music, my accordion And all these things I love Come out in the voice of my song.80 Not many Latin American writers have been in such close contact with what could be called a genuine popular culture as Garcia Marquez was to be over the next fifty years. He would go so far as to say that his encounter with the vallenato vallenato genre and the musicians who created it really gave him the idea for the narrative form of genre and the musicians who created it really gave him the idea for the narrative form of One Hundred Years of Solitude. One Hundred Years of Solitude.81 The comparison is interesting, given that more events are narrated on every single page of that novel than in any other narrative one can think of. But Garcia Marquez takes it further, establishing a parallel between the concreteness of the The comparison is interesting, given that more events are narrated on every single page of that novel than in any other narrative one can think of. But Garcia Marquez takes it further, establishing a parallel between the concreteness of the vallenato vallenato and the direct relation between his own novels and his own life: "There's not a line in any of my books which I can't connect to a real experience. There is always a reference to a concrete reality." This is why he has always a.s.serted that far from being a "magical realist," he is just a "poor notary" who copies down what is placed on his desk. and the direct relation between his own novels and his own life: "There's not a line in any of my books which I can't connect to a real experience. There is always a reference to a concrete reality." This is why he has always a.s.serted that far from being a "magical realist," he is just a "poor notary" who copies down what is placed on his desk.82 Perhaps the only surprising aspect of all this is that Garcia Marquez, usually admired for his sympathy with women, should have identified quite so fully with a movement that so a.s.sertively exalts maleness and masculine values. Perhaps the only surprising aspect of all this is that Garcia Marquez, usually admired for his sympathy with women, should have identified quite so fully with a movement that so a.s.sertively exalts maleness and masculine values.

It was with Escalona that Garcia Marquez had another of the great mythic encounters of his life. They were drinking iced beer and rum in a cantina in La Paz when a young man strode in, dressed like a cowboy with a wide hat, leather chaps, and a gun at his waist. Escalona, who knew him well, said: "Let me introduce you to Gabriel Garcia Marquez." The man asked, as he shook his hand, "Would you have anything to do with Colonel Nicolas Marquez?" "I'm his grandson." "Then your grandfather killed my grandfather."83 The young man's name was Lisandro Pacheco-though in the memoir Garcia Marquez would say he was called Jose Prudencio Aguilar, like the character based on him in The young man's name was Lisandro Pacheco-though in the memoir Garcia Marquez would say he was called Jose Prudencio Aguilar, like the character based on him in One Hundred Years of Solitude. One Hundred Years of Solitude. Escalona, who always carried a pistol himself, moved quickly to say that Garcia Marquez knew nothing about the matter and suggested that he and Lisandro should try some sharp-shooting, the purpose being to empty the gun. The three men spent three days and nights drinking and travelling in Pacheco's truck-used mainly for smuggling-around the region. Pacheco introduced Garcia Marquez to several of the Colonel's illegitimate children from the time of the war. Escalona, who always carried a pistol himself, moved quickly to say that Garcia Marquez knew nothing about the matter and suggested that he and Lisandro should try some sharp-shooting, the purpose being to empty the gun. The three men spent three days and nights drinking and travelling in Pacheco's truck-used mainly for smuggling-around the region. Pacheco introduced Garcia Marquez to several of the Colonel's illegitimate children from the time of the war.

When his friends and travelling companions were otherwise engaged, the reluctant encyclopedia salesman would stay in small run-down hotels sizzling in the heat. One of the better ones was the Hotel Welcome in Valledupar. It was during this stay that he read Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea The Old Man and the Sea, which appeared in the Spanish edition of Life Life magazine at the end of March, sent by his friends in Barranquilla. It was "like a stick of dynamite." magazine at the end of March, sent by his friends in Barranquilla. It was "like a stick of dynamite."84 Garcia Marquez's deprecating att.i.tude to Hemingway the novelist was transformed. Garcia Marquez's deprecating att.i.tude to Hemingway the novelist was transformed.

As well as The Old Man and the Sea The Old Man and the Sea he vividly recalls having re-read Virginia Woolf's he vividly recalls having re-read Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway Mrs. Dalloway in some other hotel-c.u.m-brothel during this journey, amidst clouds of mosquitoes and asphyxiating heat-probably not the kind of place Virginia Woolf herself would have much enjoyed. Although he had taken his nom de plume from her novel, he had not previously been so struck by it, and especially by a pa.s.sage about the King of England pa.s.sing by in a limousine which would later have a major influence on in some other hotel-c.u.m-brothel during this journey, amidst clouds of mosquitoes and asphyxiating heat-probably not the kind of place Virginia Woolf herself would have much enjoyed. Although he had taken his nom de plume from her novel, he had not previously been so struck by it, and especially by a pa.s.sage about the King of England pa.s.sing by in a limousine which would later have a major influence on The Autumn of the Patriarch. The Autumn of the Patriarch.85 When he got back to Barranquilla after this brief excursion Garcia Marquez had actually come to the end of a very long journey through his own popular regional culture and, indeed, through his own past and his own prehistory.86 He was now ready to inhabit "Macondo"-at the very moment, ironically enough, when Hemingway's example would shortly lure him away from the worlds of memory and myth. Nowadays the great writer "Garcia Marquez" is a.s.sociated intimately with that Latin American village which is also a state of mind: "Macondo." But "Macondo," as we know, is only half the Garcia Marquez story, though it is the half which would give him his international ident.i.ty and prestige. The real region around the literary town "Macondo" is the northern part of the old Department of Magdalena, from Santa Marta to the Guajira by way of Aracataca and Valledupar. It is the territory of his mother and his maternal grandparents, to which his father came as an unwanted interloper, one of the so-called "leaf-trash." The other half of the story is that father's own territory: the city of Cartagena and the towns of Since and Sucre, in the departments of Bolivar and Sucre, the territory of a man with vainglorious dreams of legitimacies past and future, and therefore a territory to be rejected both because of the region's colonial, repressive splendour and the humiliations still undergone by its less ill.u.s.trious sons; a territory which would become condensed into the anonymous He was now ready to inhabit "Macondo"-at the very moment, ironically enough, when Hemingway's example would shortly lure him away from the worlds of memory and myth. Nowadays the great writer "Garcia Marquez" is a.s.sociated intimately with that Latin American village which is also a state of mind: "Macondo." But "Macondo," as we know, is only half the Garcia Marquez story, though it is the half which would give him his international ident.i.ty and prestige. The real region around the literary town "Macondo" is the northern part of the old Department of Magdalena, from Santa Marta to the Guajira by way of Aracataca and Valledupar. It is the territory of his mother and his maternal grandparents, to which his father came as an unwanted interloper, one of the so-called "leaf-trash." The other half of the story is that father's own territory: the city of Cartagena and the towns of Since and Sucre, in the departments of Bolivar and Sucre, the territory of a man with vainglorious dreams of legitimacies past and future, and therefore a territory to be rejected both because of the region's colonial, repressive splendour and the humiliations still undergone by its less ill.u.s.trious sons; a territory which would become condensed into the anonymous pueblo pueblo, unworthy of a literary name but equally representative of Latin America-the "real," historical Latin America, one is tempted to say.87 Now that his long journey was over, Garcia Marquez could return briefly to Barranquilla and survey this entire conquered s.p.a.ce-conquered, at last, by him-from its very centre, located at the apex of the entire backward-looking territory but not itself of that territory. Not only was Barranquilla a gateway, it was also a twentieth-century, modern town, with neither colonial pretensions nor guilts, where one could escape from the weight of the past and its ghostly generations and make oneself anew. By now it had almost done its job.

The whole period of drift was about to end at a time when political change was again looming, menacingly, in the background. Garcia Marquez was on a bus back to Barranquilla on 13 June 1953 when he learned that General Rojas Pinilla, Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces, had taken over the government in a coup against the regime of Laureano Gomez. Gomez, sufficiently recovered from the illness that had forced him to hand over to his Vice-President even before the coup, was trying to return to power but the military had decided that his return was not in the national interest and that they would serve out the rest of his term, with Rojas Pinilla at their head. There was overwhelming national support for this coup; even the editors of some national newspapers serenaded the new leader. Garcia Marquez remembers having a violent political argument with Ramiro de la Espriella in Villegas's bookshop-Villegas would shortly be thrown in prison for alleged fraud-the day after Rojas Pinilla moved against Gomez. Garcia Marquez had even allowed himself to provoke his friend by saying, "I do, I feel identified with the government of my General Gustavo Rojas Pinilla."88 His position was essentially that anything was better than Gomez's falangist regime whereas de la Espriella wanted outright revolution, feared that a military dictatorship might prove worse than a reactionary dictatorship and argued that the military could not be trusted. Both men had a point; this was a significant disagreement and a prophetic one. Garcia Marquez would several times in the future argue that a progressive dictatorship was better than a fascistic government doing mischief under the cover of a false democracy. His position was essentially that anything was better than Gomez's falangist regime whereas de la Espriella wanted outright revolution, feared that a military dictatorship might prove worse than a reactionary dictatorship and argued that the military could not be trusted. Both men had a point; this was a significant disagreement and a prophetic one. Garcia Marquez would several times in the future argue that a progressive dictatorship was better than a fascistic government doing mischief under the cover of a false democracy.

Despite his reluctance to return to El Heraldo El Heraldo, Garcia Marquez only managed to keep out of that frying pan by tumbling into a different fire. Alvaro Cepeda Samudio, who had been working in car sales, had long nurtured the desire to compete with El Heraldo El Heraldo and build a better newspaper which would dominate the Costa. Around October he was given a chance to run and build a better newspaper which would dominate the Costa. Around October he was given a chance to run El Nacional El Nacional, hoping to turn it into the kind of modern paper he had learned about in the USA. He hired his newly unemployed friend as his a.s.sistant. Garcia Marquez later remembered it as one of his worst times. The two young men spent entire days and nights at the newspaper office, yet very few editions actually came out, and hardly any of them on time. Unfortunately there are no collections extant so it is impossible to judge their efforts. All we really know is that Cepeda directed the morning edition, which he sent to the interior, and Garcia Marquez directed the evening edition, which sold in Barranquilla. They concluded that at least part of the problem was the old-timers on the payroll trying to sabotage an innovatory newspaper.89 Unfortunately the truth appears to be that Cepeda proved incapable at that time of the discipline and subtlety required to manage such an operation. Garcia Marquez recalls discreetly that "Alvaro left with a slam of the door." Unfortunately the truth appears to be that Cepeda proved incapable at that time of the discipline and subtlety required to manage such an operation. Garcia Marquez recalls discreetly that "Alvaro left with a slam of the door."90 Garcia Marquez himself still had a contract and carried on for a time, trying desperately to survive by using old material, but he was also provoked into writing a new story, "One Day After Sat.u.r.day," another of the few early tales of his which he would later admit to actually liking. It is most interesting for the fact that, although still reminiscent of "The House," it was set in a place called "Macondo." Not only that: anyone who had been there could have worked out that "Macondo" was clearly based on Aracataca, with, somehow, a transparency of focus despite the air of mystery, and open skies instead of the grim darkness that seems to characterize both "The House" and "the town" (el pueblo), based on Sucre. Why, there was even a railway station! At the same time the story-really a short, highly condensed novella-was no longer confined within a house, like most of the earlier stories and published fragments, and was overtly political, focusing on the mayor and the local priest. Moreover Colonel Aureliano Buendia and Jose Arcadio Buendia were named, as was their relative Rebeca, "the embittered widow." There was also a poor boy from outside the town, treated with a quite new sympathy that was clearly tinged with social and political critique. At the same time the story displayed a whole range of what would later be Garcia Marquez's favourite themes, beginning with the topic of plagues (in this case a plague of dead birds) and the concept of human solitude.91 Alvaro Mutis, who was now Head of Public Relations with Esso, returned to Barranquilla close to the end of the year and, seeing his friend's predicament, tried again to persuade him to move to Bogota. He told him that he was "rusting away in the provinces."92 Mutis had good reason to believe that Garcia Marquez could get a job with Mutis had good reason to believe that Garcia Marquez could get a job with El Espectador. El Espectador. Nothing in the Nothing in the costeno costeno wanted to go and he flatly refused. Mutis said, "Well, I'll send you an open ticket and you can come when you're ready." wanted to go and he flatly refused. Mutis said, "Well, I'll send you an open ticket and you can come when you're ready."93 Finally Garcia Marquez had second thoughts but realized that he couldn't go to Bogota even if he wanted to, because he had no clothes. He sc.r.a.ped his last pesos together and bought a business suit, a couple of shirts and a tie. Then he took the air ticket out of his drawer and looked at it. Then he put it in the pocket of his new suit. He had tried his very hardest but there was no way a poor boy without a degree could earn a decent living on the Costa. Maybe one day he would be able to marry Mercedes, to whom he had now committed himself, at least in his own mind. His friends said, "Fine, but don't come back a Finally Garcia Marquez had second thoughts but realized that he couldn't go to Bogota even if he wanted to, because he had no clothes. He sc.r.a.ped his last pesos together and bought a business suit, a couple of shirts and a tie. Then he took the air ticket out of his drawer and looked at it. Then he put it in the pocket of his new suit. He had tried his very hardest but there was no way a poor boy without a degree could earn a decent living on the Costa. Maybe one day he would be able to marry Mercedes, to whom he had now committed himself, at least in his own mind. His friends said, "Fine, but don't come back a cachaco. cachaco." Then they took him down to celebrate his departure in one of their favourite down-market bars, The Third Man. And that was that.

8.

Back to Bogota: The Ace Reporter 19541955 GARCIA M MaRQUEZ ARRIVED back in Bogota in early January 1954. He came in by plane, despite an already pathological fear of flying that would only deepen over the years. Alvaro Mutis, whose life had long been full of planes, and automobiles and even ships, greeted him at the airport. The new arrival had a suitcase and two hand-carried packages, which he gave to his friend to stow in the boot of the car: the ma.n.u.scripts of "The House" and back in Bogota in early January 1954. He came in by plane, despite an already pathological fear of flying that would only deepen over the years. Alvaro Mutis, whose life had long been full of planes, and automobiles and even ships, greeted him at the airport. The new arrival had a suitcase and two hand-carried packages, which he gave to his friend to stow in the boot of the car: the ma.n.u.scripts of "The House" and Leaf Storm Leaf Storm, both still unpublished. Mutis drove him straight to his office in the centre of the city; back into the cold and the rain, back into a world of tensions and alienations which he thought he had left behind for ever when he flew out of the city almost six years before.1 At this time the Esso headquarters in Bogota was in the same building on Avenida Jimenez de Quesada as the new premises of El Espectador El Espectador, which had moved from its previous site just a few blocks away. Mutis's office in public relations was four storeys above that of the editor of the newspaper, Guillermo Cano. Mutis was vague and ambiguous about how they should proceed during the early days of Garcia Marquez's stay-even the prospect of a job with El Espectador El Espectador was left in limbo-and Garcia Marquez's already gloomy and anxious mood began to grow. He was never confident in new situations or with men and women he didn't know; people were rarely impressed by him on first appearance and he only gained confidence through intimacy and familiarity or by showing what he could do. However, Mutis, in whose personality the entrepreneur and the aesthete seemed to be combined in ways that few had seen or even imagined, was not a man to take no for an answer. He was a master salesman even when he was not sure of the quality of his product; when he had a commodity as valuable as this almost unknown writer he was usually irresistible. And Alvaro Mutis cared deeply about literature and was an unusually generous man. was left in limbo-and Garcia Marquez's already gloomy and anxious mood began to grow. He was never confident in new situations or with men and women he didn't know; people were rarely impressed by him on first appearance and he only gained confidence through intimacy and familiarity or by showing what he could do. However, Mutis, in whose personality the entrepreneur and the aesthete seemed to be combined in ways that few had seen or even imagined, was not a man to take no for an answer. He was a master salesman even when he was not sure of the quality of his product; when he had a commodity as valuable as this almost unknown writer he was usually irresistible. And Alvaro Mutis cared deeply about literature and was an unusually generous man.

Physically the two could hardly have been more different-Mutis tall, elegant, vulpine; Garcia Marquez short, skinny, scruffy. Garcia Marquez had been writing novels and stories since he was eighteen; in those days Mutis was exclusively a poet and would only start writing novels in his mid-sixties, after his retirement from a succession of jobs in the employ of U.S.-based international companies. Even now, when both are internationally famous novelists, the two Colombians are separated by the whole history of Latin American literature. And they have always stood at opposite poles of the political spectrum: Mutis, almost theatrically reactionary, a monarchist in a country which has been a republic for almost two hundred years, has always had, in his own words, "a complete lack of interest in all political phenomena later than the fall of Byzantium into the hands of the infidels," that is, later than 1453;2 while Garcia Marquez's post-1917 predilections would later become well known-though never a communist, he would be closer to that world-view in its broadest sense than to any other ideology in a long life of practical commitments. Theirs would be a long, close relationship but never a confessional one. while Garcia Marquez's post-1917 predilections would later become well known-though never a communist, he would be closer to that world-view in its broadest sense than to any other ideology in a long life of practical commitments. Theirs would be a long, close relationship but never a confessional one.

For the first couple of weeks Garcia Marquez sat around not in El Espectador El Espectador but in Mutis's office, smoking and shivering, as he always did in Bogota, talking to Mutis's recently appointed "a.s.sistant"-none other than his old friend Gonzalo Mallarino, who had first introduced them that stormy night in Cartagena-or simply twiddling his thumbs. Sometimes, especially in Latin America and other parts of the so-called "Third World," where most people are completely powerless, you just have to wait for situations to evolve. (This is why so many of Garcia Marquez's novels and stories are about waiting and hoping-it is the same verb in Spanish: but in Mutis's office, smoking and shivering, as he always did in Bogota, talking to Mutis's recently appointed "a.s.sistant"-none other than his old friend Gonzalo Mallarino, who had first introduced them that stormy night in Cartagena-or simply twiddling his thumbs. Sometimes, especially in Latin America and other parts of the so-called "Third World," where most people are completely powerless, you just have to wait for situations to evolve. (This is why so many of Garcia Marquez's novels and stories are about waiting and hoping-it is the same verb in Spanish: esperar esperar-for things that may never come and usually don't.) Then, near the end of January, El Espectador El Espectador suddenly offered him a staff position and the incredible sum of 900 pesos a month. To earn that in Barranquilla he would have had to write three hundred "Giraffes"-ten a day! It would be the first time he had ever had any spare money and it meant he could help out the family in Cartagena, sending enough for both rent and utilities. suddenly offered him a staff position and the incredible sum of 900 pesos a month. To earn that in Barranquilla he would have had to write three hundred "Giraffes"-ten a day! It would be the first time he had ever had any spare money and it meant he could help out the family in Cartagena, sending enough for both rent and utilities.

He had been living temporarily in Mutis's mother's house out in Usaquen. Now he moved into a "boarding house with no name" near the Parque Nacional, the home of a French woman who had once put up Eva Peron in her dancing days. He had his own suite of rooms, an undreamed-of luxury, though he would spend little time there. Occasionally in the months to come he would find the time and energy to smuggle some transient female into his apartment.3 Mainly, however, he would spend the next year and a half between the newspaper, the boarding house, Mutis's office and Bogota's gothic cinemas carrying out his duties as staff writer, cinema critic and, eventually, star reporter. Mainly, however, he would spend the next year and a half between the newspaper, the boarding house, Mutis's office and Bogota's gothic cinemas carrying out his duties as staff writer, cinema critic and, eventually, star reporter.

Surprisingly, perhaps, newspaper warfare in Bogota was mainly about compet.i.tion between the two great Liberal newspapers. El Espectador El Espectador had been founded in 1887 by the Cano family of Medellin (it moved to Bogota in 1915), and was thus older than its bitter rival, had been founded in 1887 by the Cano family of Medellin (it moved to Bogota in 1915), and was thus older than its bitter rival, El Tiempo El Tiempo, founded in 1911 and bought by Eduardo Santos in 1913. The Santos family still owned and ran El Tiempo El Tiempo right up to 2007, when the Spanish publishing house Planeta took a majority stake. The director of right up to 2007, when the Spanish publishing house Planeta took a majority stake. The director of El Espectador El Espectador when Garcia Marquez arrived that January was Guillermo Cano, the myopic, una.s.suming grandson of the founder; he had only recently taken over this position because, incredibly, he was still in his early twenties. He and Garcia Marquez would be in touch for more than thirty years. when Garcia Marquez arrived that January was Guillermo Cano, the myopic, una.s.suming grandson of the founder; he had only recently taken over this position because, incredibly, he was still in his early twenties. He and Garcia Marquez would be in touch for more than thirty years.

Garcia Marquez already had two solid contacts among the leading writers: Eduardo Zalamea Borda, who had discovered him six years before, and his cousin Gonzalo Gonzalez, "Gog," who had begun to work on the paper while a law student in 1946. It was Zalamea Borda who baptized him with the name by which the whole planet would later know him, "Gabo." A well-known photo from those days shows a new and wholly unfamiliar Garcia Marquez, slim and elegant, with refined features, eyes at once questioning yet already knowing, with the merest whisper of a smile beneath his Latin moustache. Only the hands betray the permanent state of tension in which this man lives.

The news editor at El Espectador El Espectador was Jose "Mono" ("Blond" but also "Monkey") Salgar, a demanding, no-nonsense manager whose slogan was "news, news, news." Garcia Marquez would say that working for him was "the exploitation of man by monkey." was Jose "Mono" ("Blond" but also "Monkey") Salgar, a demanding, no-nonsense manager whose slogan was "news, news, news." Garcia Marquez would say that working for him was "the exploitation of man by monkey."4 He had been employed by the paper since he was little more than a boy and had thus been educated both in the school of journalism and that of life; he was to become an inst.i.tution in his own right. From the start he was unimpressed by Garcia Marquez's reputation and deeply suspicious of his unmistakable literariness and incorrigible "lyricism." He had been employed by the paper since he was little more than a boy and had thus been educated both in the school of journalism and that of life; he was to become an inst.i.tution in his own right. From the start he was unimpressed by Garcia Marquez's reputation and deeply suspicious of his unmistakable literariness and incorrigible "lyricism."5 After a couple of weeks, however, Garcia Marquez showed his worth with two articles on monarchical power and solitude, myth and reality: the first, highly amusing, was "Cleopatra," a piece which fervently prayed that a new statue reputedly of the Egyptian queen would not modify the romantic image men have had of her for two thousand years; the second, "The Queen Alone," was about Elizabeth the Queen Mother of England, recently widowed. It may be Garcia Marquez's single most striking elaboration in that era of certain themes-especially the conjunction of power, fame and solitude-which would reach their culmination twenty years later in The Autumn of the Patriarch: The Autumn of the Patriarch: The Queen Mother, who is now a grandmother, is truly alone for the first time in her life. And as she wanders, accompanied only by her solitude, along the immense corridors of Buckingham Palace, she must remember with nostalgia that happy age in which she never dreamed nor wished to dream of being a queen, and lived with her husband and their two daughters in a house overflowing with intimacy...Little did she know that a mysterious blow of fate would turn her children and the children of her children into kings and queens; and her into a queen alone. A desolate and inconsolable housewife, whose house would fade into the immense labyrinth of Buckingham Palace, its endless corridors and that limitless backyard which extends to the bounds of Africa.6 This article in particular convinced Zalamea Borda, who somewhat bizarrely had a soft spot for the young Queen Elizabeth II, that Garcia Marquez was ready to move on to bigger things.7 Guillermo Cano said that when Garcia Marquez arrived he naturally had to adapt to the newspaper's cautious and somewhat anonymous house style; but after a while the other writers began to adjust to the newcomer's brilliant improvisations and then to imitate him. Guillermo Cano said that when Garcia Marquez arrived he naturally had to adapt to the newspaper's cautious and somewhat anonymous house style; but after a while the other writers began to adjust to the newcomer's brilliant improvisations and then to imitate him.8 Garcia Marquez remembers that he would be sitting at his desk writing a piece for the paper's "Day by Day" column and Jose Salgar or Guillermo Cano would tell him, across the noisy room, with just a thumb and forefinger, how much was needed to fill the s.p.a.ce. Some of the magic had gone out of his journalism. Worse, Bogota did not provide him with the vital stimulation he found everywhere on the coast. In late February, already bored to tears, he managed to persuade the management to let him try out as a film critic and publish his review on Sat.u.r.days. It must have been a wonderful relief to escape several times a week from the tensions of living under a dictatorship in "the gloomiest city in the world," and under an irksome and unnecessary apprenticeship in the newspaper office, and to take refuge in the fantasy world of the movies. He was in fact something of a pioneer, because no other journalist had written a regular movie column in any Colombian newspaper before this time; they confined themselves to providing plot summaries and naming the stars.

From the start his view of cinema was literary and humanistic, rather than specifically cinematographic.9 In fact Garcia Marquez's fast-evolving political ideology at the time must have sharpened his sense that he had a chance to "educate the people" and perhaps relieve them of the false consciousness that made them prefer the prepackaged Hollywood product to the more aesthetically crafted works from France and, especially, those "authentically" conceived and executed works from Italy which he particularly favoured. But in any case the film-goers of 1950s Bogota were unlikely to appreciate avant-garde evaluations of the movies they went to see and Garcia Marquez was from the beginning obsessed with the idea of viewing reality from the standpoint of "the people" whilst going on, of course, to modify it in progressive directions. Certainly his film reviews took up aesthetically and ideologically questionable "common-sense" positions; but one of the qualities of Garcia Marquez, always, is that his version of "common sense" is invariably "good sense" and is almost never "non-sense." In fact Garcia Marquez's fast-evolving political ideology at the time must have sharpened his sense that he had a chance to "educate the people" and perhaps relieve them of the false consciousness that made them prefer the prepackaged Hollywood product to the more aesthetically crafted works from France and, especially, those "authentically" conceived and executed works from Italy which he particularly favoured. But in any case the film-goers of 1950s Bogota were unlikely to appreciate avant-garde evaluations of the movies they went to see and Garcia Marquez was from the beginning obsessed with the idea of viewing reality from the standpoint of "the people" whilst going on, of course, to modify it in progressive directions. Certainly his film reviews took up aesthetically and ideologically questionable "common-sense" positions; but one of the qualities of Garcia Marquez, always, is that his version of "common sense" is invariably "good sense" and is almost never "non-sense."10 From the very beginning he was hostile to what he perceived to be the shallow commercial and profoundly ideological values of the Hollywood system-he considered Orson Welles and Charlie Chaplin exceptions-and he routinely defended European cinema, whose production and moral values he sought for the development of a national cinema in Colombia. This, with an added Latin American dimension, would become a permanent obsession down the years. He was surprisingly preoccupied with technical questions-script, dialogue, direction, photography, sound, music, cutting, acting-which perhaps gives insight into what he would later call the "carpentry" of his literary works: professional "tricks of the trade" that he has never been fully willing to share, at least not in terms of the novel.11 He insisted that scripts should be economical, consistent and coherent; and that close-ups and long shots should receive the same attention. He was concerned from the beginning with the concept of the well-made story, an obsession which would remain with him for the rest of his career and would explain his continuing reverence for He insisted that scripts should be economical, consistent and coherent; and that close-ups and long shots should receive the same attention. He was concerned from the beginning with the concept of the well-made story, an obsession which would remain with him for the rest of his career and would explain his continuing reverence for The Thousand and One Nights, Dracula, The Count of Monte Cristo The Thousand and One Nights, Dracula, The Count of Monte Cristo and and Treasure Island Treasure Island-all brilliantly narrated works of popular literature. This was what he looked for in the cinema too. Objective reality should predominate but the inner world, even the fantastic world, should not be neglected. He noted that the outstanding feature of Vittorio De Sica's The Bicycle Thieves The Bicycle Thieves was its "human authenticity" and its "lifelike method." These central ideas would dominate his perspective for the next few years, and were not far removed from the central tenets of both bourgeois and socialist realism which found cla.s.sic fusion in Italian neo-realism. Avant-garde they were not. He showed little awareness of the theories of the nascent French New Wave to be found among Brazilian, Argentine or Cuban cinematographers at this time. Indeed, his selections for best films of the year on 31 December demonstrate unequivocally that for Garcia Marquez in 1954 Italian neo-realism was was its "human authenticity" and its "lifelike method." These central ideas would dominate his perspective for the next few years, and were not far removed from the central tenets of both bourgeois and socialist realism which found cla.s.sic fusion in Italian neo-realism. Avant-garde they were not. He showed little awareness of the theories of the nascent French New Wave to be found among Brazilian, Argentine or Cuban cinematographers at this time. Indeed, his selections for best films of the year on 31 December demonstrate unequivocally that for Garcia Marquez in 1954 Italian neo-realism was the the way of making movies. Certainly it is ironic to consider that De Sica, his favourite film-maker in this era, and Cesare Zavattini, the incomparable scriptwriter, would never have got involved in filming a script like the plot of way of making movies. Certainly it is ironic to consider that De Sica, his favourite film-maker in this era, and Cesare Zavattini, the incomparable scriptwriter, would never have got involved in filming a script like the plot of Leaf Storm Leaf Storm. Which is why, for the moment, Garcia Marquez would not be writing any more novels like Leaf Storm Leaf Storm.

The working week was intense. At its end he took part in the journalists' regular "cultural Fridays," a euphemism for heavy drinking across the avenue in the Hotel Continental, where the El Espectador El Espectador and and El Tiempo El Tiempo hacks would meet up and exchange drinks and insults; sometimes they drank until dawn. hacks would meet up and exchange drinks and insults; sometimes they drank until dawn.12 He also partic.i.p.ated in the Bogota cine-club organized by another of the many energetic Catalan exiles the young writer would get to know over the years. His name was Luis Vicens; he had himself collaborated with the great critic Georges Sadoul on He also partic.i.p.ated in the Bogota cine-club organized by another of the many energetic Catalan exiles the young writer would get to know over the years. His name was Luis Vicens; he had himself collaborated with the great critic Georges Sadoul on L'ecran Francais L'ecran Francais and was now making a living in Colombia selling books as well as running the cine-club with two Colombians, the film critic Hernando Salcedo and the painter Enrique Grau. After the cine-club's sessions he would go on to the inevitable party at the house of Luis Vicens and his Colombian wife Nancy, not far from the newspaper office. and was now making a living in Colombia selling books as well as running the cine-club with two Colombians, the film critic Hernando Salcedo and the painter Enrique Grau. After the cine-club's sessions he would go on to the inevitable party at the house of Luis Vicens and his Colombian wife Nancy, not far from the newspaper office.13 Nevertheless this new, rather middle-cla.s.s lifestyle in the world of the bogotanos bogotanos could hardly replace the sheer fun and exhilaration, not to say interest, of life on the Costa. Early in his stay in Bogota Garcia Marquez wrote to Alfonso Fuenmayor: could hardly replace the sheer fun and exhilaration, not to say interest, of life on the Costa. Early in his stay in Bogota Garcia Marquez wrote to Alfonso Fuenmayor: Your n.o.ble paternal concerns will be eased if I tell you that my situation here is still quite good, although the question now is to consolidate it. There is an excellent atmosphere in the newspaper and up to now I've been allowed the same privileges as the longest-term employees. However the sad part of the song is that I still don't feel at home in Bogota, though if things go on as they are I'll have no option but to get used to it. As I don't lead an "intellectual" life here I'm lost as to developments in the novel, because "Ulysses" [Zalamea Borda], the only genius I see here, is always buried in great big indigestible novels in English. Recommend me some translations. I received a copy of Sartoris Sartoris in Spanish but it fell to pieces and I returned it. in Spanish but it fell to pieces and I returned it.14 His new-found prosperity did allow him to go back from time to time to Barranquilla, to visit his friends, to keep a watchful eye on Mercedes, to keep in touch with his roots-and of course see the sun; plus the bonus of simply getting out of Bogota. Certainly the fact that he would appear in the credits for a film which Alvaro Cepeda would shortly direct, a short experimental movie ent.i.tled The Blue Lobster The Blue Lobster, suggests that his visits to the Costa were reasonably frequent.15 By now his old friends had a new hang-out and the Barranquilla Group would become synonymous with a less portentous crowd, "the p.i.s.s-takers of the Cueva," as Garcia Marquez would dub them five years later in his story "Big Mama's Funeral." Not long after he had left Barranquilla the gang had regrouped and moved the focus of their activities away from the old city centre to the Barrio Boston, not far from where Mercedes Barcha lived. Alfonso Fuenmayor's cousin Eduardo Vila Fuenmayor, a reluctant dentist (Mercedes had been one of his patients), started up a bar which was at first called The To and Fro (El Vaiven), the name of the store it had once been, but which the group later baptized "The Cave" ("La Cueva"-like the dockside bar in Cartagena). This place would become immortalized, like some sacred temple, in Garcia Marquez-related mythology, although the man himself would never be able to go there with much regularity. So rowdy was it, with so much heavy drinking and fighting, that Vila would eventually put up a sign which said, "Here the customer is never right."

Back in Bogota, Garcia Marquez was witness to one of the new military regime's most notorious atrocities on 9 June 1954 as he returned in the late morning along Avenida Jimenez Quesada from a visit to his ex-boss Julio Cesar Villegas, who was serving out his jail sentence in the Model Prison. He heard a sudden burst of machine-gun fire: government troops were firing on a student demonstration and caused heavy casualties, including several dead, before the horrified writer's eyes. It was the event that ended the uneasy truce between the new government and the Liberal press. Garcia Marquez's radical political views had been quite unequivocal from the time of his early days in El Universal, only weeks after the Bogotazo Bogotazo; but this third experience of living in or close to Bogota brought him to commit himself not only to a particular political ideology-socialism-but also, for a few years at least, to a particular way of viewing and interpreting reality and a particular way of expressing and communicating it technically. The result would be his political reportage, and the writing of the novels No One Writes to the Colonel No One Writes to the Colonel and and In Evil Hour In Evil Hour and the stories of and the stories of Big Mama's Funeral Big Mama's Funeral. He had been longing for several years now to be given the opportunity to be a reporter; but El Universal El Universal and and El Heraldo El Heraldo lived off international cables and, given their resources and, more to the point, the prevailing regime of censorship, hardly went in for serious reporting. Their mission, in many ways, was to publish something, anything, that was not the usual Conservative propaganda. The owners of lived off international cables and, given their resources and, more to the point, the prevailing regime of censorship, hardly went in for serious reporting. Their mission, in many ways, was to publish something, anything, that was not the usual Conservative propaganda. The owners of El Espectador El Espectador were made of sterner stuff. And they now had at their disposal a young writer who was fascinated by the variety of people in his country, by the things they did and the things that happened to them; a man who loved stories, who whenever possible turned his own life into a story and would now seize the opportunity to turn the lives of others also into narratives which would grip the imagination. were made of sterner stuff. And they now had at their disposal a young writer who was fascinated by the variety of people in his country, by the things they did and the things that happened to them; a man who loved stories, who whenever possible turned his own life into a story and would now seize the opportunity to turn the lives of others also into narratives which would grip the imagination.

In Colombia in those days the news was generally terrible. It was the height of the Violencia Violencia. Ma.s.sacres of Liberals continued in rural areas, carried out by the oligarchy's barbaric paramilitary a.s.sa.s.sins known as chulavitas chulavitas or or pajaros pajaros, and Liberal guerrillas were fighting desperate rearguard actions in many parts of the country. Torture, rape and the s.a.d.i.s.tic desecration of corpses were commonplace. Rojas Pinilla had imposed press censorship on 6 March and hardened it after the killing of the students in Bogota. Ex-President Lopez Pumarejo proposed a bipartisan agreement for running the country on 25 March, an idea which would bear fruit three years later with the invention of the so-called National Front but was not greeted positively at this time.

All of this was in part the reflection in a peripheral country of the Cold War frenzy of the era. McCarthyism was at its height in the United States; Eisenhower even outlawed the Communist Party in August 1954 and McCarthy was finally censured by the Senate only in December of that year. Meanwhile the Communist bloc was working on the Warsaw Pact, which would be signed in May 1955. In Barranquilla Garcia Marquez had listened more sympathetically to the communist rantings of Jorge Rondon than most of his friends and colleagues. During his last period in Barranquilla, several months after the death of Stalin in Moscow and several weeks after the Rojas Pinilla coup in Colombia, Garcia Marquez had been visited by a man ostensibly selling watches who was in fact a Communist enlisting members for the Party, particularly among journalists, in exchange for his timekeeping wares. Not long after Garcia Marquez arrived in Bogota, where he was working from the start with politically progressive colleagues, another watch salesman came to visit and before long Garcia Marquez found himself in contact with Gilberto Vieira, Secretary General of the Colombian Communist Party, who was living clandestinely just a few blocks from the city centre.16 It became clear to Garcia Marquez that the Party had been watching him ever since he had worked with Cepeda on El Nacional and considered him promising material; but according to him it was agreed that his best use for the Party was in writing committed journalism which did not appear to compromise him in Party terms. The Party would seemingly continue to take this view of Garcia Marquez's activities down the years and usually supported his positions if at all possible. It became clear to Garcia Marquez that the Party had been watching him ever since he had worked with Cepeda on El Nacional and considered him promising material; but according to him it was agreed that his best use for the Party was in writing committed journalism which did not appear to compromise him in Party terms. The Party would seemingly continue to take this view of Garcia Marquez's activities down the years and usually supported his positions if at all possible.

At the end of July Salgar suggested that Garcia Marquez go to Antioquia to find out "what the f.u.c.k really happened" in the 12 July landslide. He found himself on a plane to Medellin where the hillside community out at La Media Luna, east of the city, had collapsed two weeks before with heavy loss of life. There were suspicions that the blame could be attributed to government corruption and jerry-building. Garcia Marquez's brief was to reconstruct the truth on the spot. The intrepid reporter would later confess that he was so nervous about flying that Alvaro Mutis travelled with him to calm his nerves and installed him in the upmarket Hotel Nutibara. When he was left alone there he felt sick with nerves and totally intimidated by the physical challenge and the moral responsibility; he almost resigned from the newspaper on his first day in Medellin. After he had managed to calm himself he discovered that there was no one out by the Media Luna any more and so there was nothing to be added to the reports of journalists who had been there long before him. He hadn't the faintest idea what to do. A violent rainstorm postponed his agony. He again considered fleeing back to Bogota; finally sheer desperation, and a chance conversation with a taxi driver, prodded him into action. He began to think, truly think, about the event he was investigating: what might have happened, where he should go, what he should do. Slowly but with accelerating excitement, he discovered the joy of being a reporter-detective, the creativity of discovering-and in a way inventing-the truth, the power of shaping and even changing reality for tens of thousands of people. He realized that the idea of people travelling out to deaths they could not antic.i.p.ate was his "angle" and he had a taxi driver take him straight out to Las Estancias, the zone from which most people who had died in the catastrophe had travelled. He soon discovered evidence of official negligence, both short term and long term (it seemed the landslide had been incubating for sixty years!), but also revealed an unexpected and more dramatic aspect of the tragedy, one that most readers would have preferred not to know: that many deaths had been due to people from other parts of the city trying to help without official guidance or a.s.sistance and thereby triggering a second landslide. He interviewed numbers of survivors and witnesses, and also the authorities, including local politicians, firemen and priests.17 Then he started to write. Very likely it began as something out of Hemingway but by the time he finished it was pure Garcia Marquez, with that inimitable presentation of life as a drama filled with the horrors and ironies of fate, the fate of human beings condemned to live in a world of unknown causes governed by time: Juan Ignacio Angel, the economics student standing on the ledge ran down below, preceded by a girl of about fourteen and a boy of ten. His companions, Carlos Gabriel Obregon and Fernando Calle, ran in the opposite direction. The first, half buried, died of asphyxia. The second, an asthmatic, stopped, gasping, and said, "I can't go on." He was never heard of again. "When I ran down with the girl and the boy," Juan Ignacio said, "I came to a big hollow. The three of us threw ourselves to the ground." The boy never got up again. The girl, who Angel was unable to identify among the corpses, got up for a moment but sank down again screaming in desperation when she saw the earth soaring above the hollow. An avalanche of mud crashed over them. Angel tried to run again but his legs were paralysed. The mud rose to his chest in a split second but he managed to free his right arm. He stayed like that until the thunder-like noises ceased and he felt in his legs, at the bottom of that dense and impenetrable sea of mud, the hand of the girl who, at the beginning, held on to him with desperate strength, then clawed at him, and finally, in ever weaker contractions, relaxed her grip on his ankle.18 The sub-headings were almost certainly chosen by Garcia Marquez himself: "The tragedy began sixty years ago"; "Medellin, victim of its own solidarity"; and "Did an old gold mine precipitate the tragedy?"19 He had learned how to convert his own world-view into a set of journalistic "angles." "Gabo," the best friend to his friends, had only recently been born; now the great story-teller "Gabriel Garcia Marquez" had finally appeared on the scene. It was noteworthy that although he was pleased to blame the authorities for their part in the disaster, he was also concerned to tell the whole truth, including the involuntary contribution of so many well-meaning rescuers to the tragedy. He had learned how to convert his own world-view into a set of journalistic "angles." "Gabo," the best friend to his friends, had only recently been born; now the great story-teller "Gabriel Garcia Marquez" had finally appeared on the scene. It was noteworthy that although he was pleased to blame the authorities for their part in the disaster, he was also concerned to tell the whole truth, including the involuntary contribution of so many well-meaning rescuers to the tragedy.

The next piece of pioneering reporting was a series on one of Colombia's forgotten regions, the department of El Choco, on the Pacific side of the country. On 8 September 1954 the government decided to carve up the Choco, an undeveloped, forested department, and distribute the pieces between the departments of Antioquia, Caldas and Valle. There were vehement protests and Garcia Marquez was sent down with a cameraman, Guillermo Sanchez, to report on the conflict. The journey was so bad, in an aircraft so old, that he remembers it "raining inside the plane" and says that even the pilots were terrified. The Choco, a department mainly inhabited by Afro-Colombians, reminded Garcia Marquez at once of Aracataca and its hinterland. For him the proposed dismemberment of the Choco was symptomatic of Bogota's cold and heartless mentality, though other commentators blamed the ambitious Antioquians. When he arrived he discovered that the demonstrations he had gone to report on had petered out-so he got a friend to organize some more! This ensured the success of his mission. After a few days, as the news item began to grow and other reporters flew in to cover it, the government cancelled its plan to restructure the four departments.20 In late October it was announced that Garcia Marquez's new role model Ernest Hemingway was to be awarded the n.o.bel Prize for Literature, just as Faulkner had been when he was in his Faulkner phase. Garcia Marquez wrote a note under the "Day by Day" byline repeating comments he had made before about the n.o.bel Prize phenomenon, and this time downplaying the possible importance of an award which had already gone to so many "undeserving" writers and which, in the case of Hemingway, he speculated, must surely have been one of the less exciting occasions in a life "so full of exciting moments."21 The year 1955 would see the publication of Garcia Marquez's most famous newspaper story. It was based on an immensely long interview, in fourteen sessions of four hours each, with a Colombian navy sailor called Luis Alejandro Velasco, the only survivor of eight crewmen who fell overboard from the destroyer Caldas Caldas when she rolled out of control in late February-supposedly during a storm-on the way back from refitting in Mobile, Alabama, to her home port of Cartagena. Velasco survived on a raft for ten days without anything to eat and very little to drink. He became a national hero, decorated by the President and feted by the media, including the new television service. All this up to the moment when Garcia Marquez decided to interview him ... The interviews, which were Guillermo Cano's idea-Garcia Marquez considered the story had gone cold-took place in a small cafe on Avenida Jimenez. when she rolled out of control in late February-supposedly during a storm-on the way back from refitting in Mobile, Alabama, to her home port of Cartagena. Velasco survived on a raft for ten days without anything to eat and very little to drink. He became a national hero, decorated by the President and feted by the media, including the new television service. All this up to the moment when Garcia Marquez decided to interview him ... The interviews, which were Guillermo Cano's idea-Garcia Marquez considered the story had gone cold-took place in a small cafe on Avenida Jimenez.22 Velasco had an astonishing memory and was himself an excellent narrator. But Garcia Marquez had developed a facility for asking revealing questions and then highlighting the essence of the answers or getting to the most human aspects of the story. Velas...o...b..gan by stressing the heroic point of view: the battle with the waves, the problem of controlling the raft, the fight against the sharks, the struggle with his mind, until Garcia Marquez interrupted: "Don't you realize that four days have pa.s.sed and you still haven't had a pee or a s.h.i.t!" Velasco had an astonishing memory and was himself an excellent narrator. But Garcia Marquez had developed a facility for asking revealing questions and then highlighting the essence of the answers or getting to the most human aspects of the story. Velas...o...b..gan by stressing the heroic point of view: the battle with the waves, the problem of controlling the raft, the fight against the sharks, the struggle with his mind, until Garcia Marquez interrupted: "Don't you realize that four days have pa.s.sed and you still haven't had a pee or a s.h.i.t!"23 After each interview he would go back to the office in the late afternoon and write up the corresponding chapter until deep in the night. Jose Salgar would take them from him, sometimes uncorrected, and run them straight over to the printers. Guillermo Cano told Garcia Marquez he would have liked it to run to fifty chapters. After the fourteen-part series had come to an end, After each interview he would go back to the office in the late afternoon and write up the corresponding chapter until deep in the night. Jose Salgar would take them from him, sometimes uncorrected, and run them straight over to the printers. Guillermo Cano told Garcia Marquez he would have liked it to run to fifty chapters. After the fourteen-part series had come to an end, El Espectador El Espectador put out a special supplement on 28 April reprinting the entire story with what it claimed was "the biggest print run any Colombian newspaper has ever published!" put out a special supplement on 28 April reprinting the entire story with what it claimed was "the biggest print run any Colombian newspaper has ever published!"

Garcia Marquez, with his rigorous and exhaustive questioning, and his search for new angles, had inadvertently revealed that the boat had not pitched and rolled in a violent storm but had sunk because it was carrying illegal merchandise which was improperly secured; and that regulation safety procedures were grossly inadequate. The story put El Espectador El Espectador in direct confrontation with the military government and undoubtedly made Garcia Marquez still more of a in direct confrontation with the military government and undoubtedly made Garcia Marquez still more of a persona non grata persona non grata, a troublemaker considered an enemy of the regime. Those who routinely question his courage and commitment should certainly reflect on this period in his life. Garcia Marquez must undoubtedly have been a marked man and, although he has characteristically played down the dangers of the time, it is easy to imagine his feelings whenever he had to walk home late at night through a grim, lugubrious city floating uneasily in the tension of a military dictatorship. It is something of a miracle that he survived unscathed.24 Many years later the story was re-published, after Garcia Marquez became a world-famous writer. It was ent.i.tled The Story of a Shipwrecked Sailor (Relato de un naufrago The Story of a Shipwrecked Sailor (Relato de un naufrago, 1970). Astonishingly, it became one of his most successful books, selling 10 million copies in the next twenty-five years. Garcia Marquez never directly challenged the reactionary government in 19545 but in report after report he took up a point of view which was implicitly subversive of official stories and thus challenged the ruling system more effectively than any of his more vocal leftist colleagues, guided always by rigorous investigation, reflection and communication of the realities of the country. All in all, it was a sustained and brilliant demonstration of the power of the story-teller's art and of the power and central importance of the imagination even in the representation of factual material.

Immediately after those implicitly committed and campaigning pieces, Leaf Storm Leaf Storm finally appeared in Bogota at the end of May under a little-known imprint owned by the publisher Lisman Baum and produced by Sipa Editions at five pesos a copy. Garcia Marquez's friend the painter Cecilia Porras designed the cover, which depicted a little boy sitting on a chair with his legs dangling, waiting for something: the little boy that Garcia Marquez had once been in the dreaming time before his grandfather died and which he had now transposed into his first published novel. The printers claimed to have produced 4,000 copies, few of which were ever sold. finally appeared in Bogota at the end of May under a little-known imprint owned by the publisher Lisman Baum and produced by Sipa Editions at five pesos a copy. Garcia Marquez's friend the painter Cecilia Porras designed the cover, which depicted a little boy sitting on a chair with his legs dangling, waiting for something: the little boy that Garcia Marquez had once been in the dreaming time before his grandfather died and which he had now transposed into his first published novel. The printers claimed to have produced 4,000 copies, few of which were ever sold.25 Its publication made a strange counterpoint to his current status as a hard-hitting, high-profile journalist, for it belonged not only to an era but to a narrative mode that Garcia Marquez had left behind: at once static and time-tormented, fatalistic and mythical. Its publication made a strange counterpoint to his current status as a hard-hitting, high-profile journalist, for it belonged not only to an era but to a narrative mode that Garcia Marquez had left behind: at once static and time-tormented, fatalistic and mythical.

Still, a book in print at last. Although it had by no means resolved or even a.s.suaged his obsessions, it was a book based directly on his own childhood, something which had suddenly "dropped off" "The House" after he had made his fabulous return to Aracataca with Luisa Santiaga, now five years before. The t.i.tle had been rapidly improvised in 1951 in order to be able to send the novel off to Buenos Aires; and some time in the months before publication Garcia Marquez composed a sort of prologue or coda dated "1909," which made more sense of the t.i.tle and gave the novel a perspective, both historical and mythological at one and the same