Love in the Time of Cholera

Normally, I would be quite happy to be compared to anything even vaguely connected with South American literature or magical realism. In fact – by a how very extraordinarily amazing coincidence – only a few hours before reading anna mr’s post, I’d picked up just such a volume as my in-flight read to India.

And speaking of not drinking the water, if I were a novel, a little quizlet tells me that I’d be:

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Fine. No probs. Cool book, cool title. Then I read the blurb that goes with it. Everyone else has been saying how strangely apt theirs have been. So... How exactly did those six questions end up here?

‘Like Odysseus in a work of Homer, you demonstrate undying loyalty by sleeping with as many people as you possibly can. But in your heart you never give consent! This creates a strange quandary of what love really means to you. On the one hand, you've loved the same person your whole life, but on the other, your actions barely speak to this fact. Whatever you do, stick to bottled water. The other stuff could get you killed.’

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.