And My #9 Book of All Time is . . .

Last night was one of those nights when I really could have used some television. Kids to bed early, nice and quiet, feeling very lazy and unproductive, and I probably would have enjoyed nothing more than a good evening of Seinfeld/Friends reruns capped off with something interesting on the Discovery Channel, preferably Man v. Wild. Oh well, instead I started reading All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy and played some poker online. Only about 345 days to go.

So instead of watching tv I also decided to write about my ninth favorite book of all time: Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. This is pretty much the ultimate love story, and I'm not talking about some gushing type of romance. Marquez's writing swings to a South American rhythm: laid back and sultry, sort of like iced tea on a baking summer day. You can just about feel the beads of moisture forming on the outside of the glass, or the warm radiation of sun through large windows.

It is the story of Florentino Ariza's unrequited love for Fermina Daza that spans 51 years, 9 months and 4 days. When Fermina Daza's husband dies, even though both of the main characters are now in their sixties or seventies, the story is only beginning.

Some of the scenes get a little sexy, so if you're more of a Puritan reader this might offend your sensibilities, but I found it at times hilarious and at times rather melancholy and touching. If you've already read Love in the Time of Cholera and enjoyed Marquez, you also must read another great book he wrote, One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Anyway, happy reading!