Best Of DC digest #17, October 1981, cover by George Perez and Dick Giordano
Today we celebrate the legacy of a remarkable author - Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Although he left us too soon, his words remain. So visit your local library today and check out your favorite book - whether it’s 100 Years of Solitude, Love in the Time of Cholera or The Autumn of the Patriarch - and love the words of the exceptional Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
"A nursing home in Long Island is being sued for hiring male strippers to perform for the residents…But you know who’s most upset about the strippers is the residents’ families. They’re suing the nursing home. And this is real, these are the lawyers they hired…That’s like Carmen San Diego on the side, a Dick Tracy villain, a geriatric pimp in the middle, a woman wearing a backwards leather jacket, and the guy in the back looks like a blogger.”
Bio: Born on March 6, 1928, writer Gabriel García Márquez grew up listening to family tales. After college, he became a journalist. His work introduced readers to magical realism, which combines fact and fantasy. His novels Cien años de soledad (One Hundred Years of Solitude) and El amor en los tiempos del cólera (Love in the Time of Cholera) have drawn worldwide audiences. He won a Nobel Prize in 1982. 
- The highly political Marquez has long been a friend of Cuban president Fidel Castro. 
- He claims that he wrote the book “One Hundred Years of Solitude” barricaded in his study in Mexico, after receiving a vision. One day, while he and his wife and children were in their car driving to Acapulco, he saw that he “had to tell [his] story the way his grandmother used to tell hers, and that [he] was to start from that afternoon in which a father took his child to discover ice.” He made an abrupt U-turn on the highway, the car never made it to Acapulco, and he locked himself in his study. Fifteen months later, he emerged with the manuscript, only to meet his wife holding a stack of bills. They traded papers, and she put the manuscript in the mail to his publisher. 
- He has a yellow rose or tulip on his writing desk each day. 
- When he was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer, he gamely declared to the world that the disease was an “enormous stroke of luck” because it finally forced him to write his memoirs. 
[He stumbled on the last step, but he got up at once. “He even took care to brush off the dirt that was stuck to his guts,” my Aunt Wene told me.] Then he went into his house through the back door that had been open since six and fell on his face in the kitchen.
[And she, with a sad smile—which was already a smile of surrender to the impossible, the unreachable—said: “Yet you won’t remember anything during the day.” And she put her hands back over the lamp, her features darkened by a bitter cloud.] “You’re the only man who doesn’t remember anything of what he’s dreamed after he wakes up.
from Eyes of a Blue Dog (short story)
Only then did she understand that three thousand years had passed since the day she had had a desire to eat the first orange.
from Eva is Inside Her Cat (short story)
Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.
(Photo: Edgard Garrido / Reuters)
Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the Nobel laureate whose novels and short stories exposed tens of millions of readers to Latin America’s passion, superstition, violence and inequality, died at home in Mexico City around midday, according to people close to his family. He was 87.