The Incredible and Sad Tale of Innocent Eréndira and Her Heartless Grandmother

That is the title of this book by Gabriel García Márquez, the very first one of his I read, driven by the curiosity sparked by one of the short stories, A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings, which had been recommended to me in a workshop on writing children’s books. And since reading just the story wasn’t enough, I bought and read the entire book.

And the entire book wasn’t enough either.

It felt as if, by reading it, I suddenly began to hear the dozens of voices born within it and coexisting there, and as if by merely reading and keeping silent—without passing a word on—I would also be consenting to them falling silent forever.

That’s how I am. When I fall in love with a book, I have to metaphorically shout it from the rooftops.
I remember reading The Incredible and Sad Tale of Innocent Eréndira and Her Heartless Grandmother at an outdoor café in Caparica, on one of those most beautiful late afternoons of our lives, feeling the scent of the sea and the day’s last farewell of the sun—a setting that some of the stories themselves mirrored; me in Caparica, them in the Caribbean.

But the joy of the settings does nothing to erase the fiercest struggles at the heart of some of the short stories in this book. This marvelous work includes not only the title story but also six others of equal beauty. Each has its own world, its own sound, its own texture. It’s incredibly difficult for me to pick a favorite, so to the question I asked myself, I answer with A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings and The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World.

Still, all the short stories share certain common threads: the feeling of loss, the fear of death, loneliness, sometimes old age, poverty, abandonment. Yet Gabriel García Márquez is a magician of words, capable of turning an innocent reader into the worst kind of masochist, who, in reading story after story frenetically, begins to feel some of the darkest, most dreaded human emotions—and enjoys it. The reader finds themselves delighting in the pain, yet refuses to leave that little world until the story ends, and even a little while after.

This is a book that, although at first sight might seem like light, casual reading, instills in us a terrible pity for the characters whom Gabriel García Márquez places in terrifying situations. And the more we strive to find a resolution for their recurring sorrows and misfortunes, the quicker we realize—if we are attentive readers—that the author’s goal is not to gift us with escapes, but to force us to face life’s horrors. Deep sadness, abandonment, and certainly not death are overcome by focusing our attention on something more pleasant.

Nothing remains but to face our fears head-on.

Or maybe I simply feel too much, but, believe it or not, this was the outcome of my reading experience with The Incredible and Sad Tale of Innocent Eréndira and Her Heartless Grandmother. Needless to say, I highly recommend it.