As I was reading, I was not averse to the several trystes of the main character, several hundred trystes. There was a main theme of his continued dedication to the woman who had dumped him decades earlier. An unrealistic devotion to a historical fantasy, rather than moving on with life. Once the object of one’s devotion has decided that they no longer want one, this hopeless fantasizing to me is an utter useless waste of time. I highly discourage it in myself and others if they ever ask my advice. Life is a moving target, one must keep up with it, not stay stagnated in time to helplessly and unrealistically hoping to no avail while it rushes by. I would have called it “The Daydreamer”.
As he crossed the lines of pedaphilia, coaxing a 12 year old girl who is a blood relation in his care into sex, it was more than my sense of decency and protective mindset with regard to children could stand. I no longer felt any compassion for the character or the object of his devotion. I would have called it “The Story of a Pervert in Pursuit of an Asshole”
And at the end, after reading all, I would have named it “Meditations on the Human Condition”. You see, to me it described many situations that could be mistaken for love, but have very little to do with my own perception of real love. It really was a very interesting, intriguing and exhaustive array of circumstances, mostly from the perspective of an eternally busy and unassuming man.
It went through scenarios as diverse as unrealistic puppy love, which is only an attachment to the ideals of love, and not the person; to a stable and devoted yet sterile and lengthy marriage until death; to sex for pay and the human beings that employ themselves out as such; to devoted trystes that have a predetermined limit; to the person who moves on and on to various loves without consequences, wreaking havok in the hearts of others up to the point of even death; to the jealousy of married people who have been cuckolded and the violence that can spring from that; to the inappropriate sexual and damaging relation of a grown and aging man with a child; to the very deep friendships between a man and a woman over time, that are, however, expendible in the end; to the superficial aspect of a person who never delves too far beneath the surface of love over their lifespan, to the lifelong devotion to an illusion of love, and many, many more circumstances.
In the end, after the elusive lifelong love was fulfilled, even in it’s most beautiful moments, the failures of the connection were seeping in continuously. It was extremely painful to both parties as they faced their “real” life again…..this love did not fit in with their real world, and therefore the root was in something else, not love at all…..a need to live a lifelong dream, a need to stave off the loneliness of old age…perhaps a deep connection, but only an illusion of true love, nothing more. The man who has waited over 50 years for this love takes only 2 weeks before he is in the bathroom crying to himself due to his guilt over the death of another whom he “loved”.
As for the real name, yes, I believe the main character, perhaps the author as well, experiences love as a sickness that devours your whole being..and will not be satiated, ever.
To me, love is the growing and MUTUAL condition of caring for another person, and realizing over time that you’d rather be with that person than without that person, and doing whatever is necessary to improve life for that person, their heart, their soul, and growing..yes, the person must make you grow and vice-versa. It’s a mutual dedication, through good times and bad.
Do I sound like I’m bashing the book? Because truly, I will likely read more from this author. His writing is beautifully illustrative and I really felt the aura of colonial Colombia during those times of war and illness. He has written many books, including non-fiction. Please, your recommendations, if you have read other works.
