Memories of My Melancholy Whores
A New York Times Notable Book
On the eve of his ninetieth birthday a bachelor decides to give himself a wild night of love with a virgin. As is his habit–he has purchased hundreds of women–he asks a madam for her assistance. The fourteen-year-old girl who is procured for him is enchanting, but exhausted as she is from caring for siblings and her job sewing buttons, she can do little but sleep. Yet with this sleeping beauty at his side, it is he who awakens to a romance he has never known.
Tender, knowing, and slyly comic, Memories of My Melancholy Whores is an exquisite addition to the master’s work.
On the eve of his ninetieth birthday a bachelor decides to give himself a wild night of love with a virgin. As is his habit–he has purchased hundreds of women–he asks a madam for her assistance. The fourteen-year-old girl who is procured for him is enchanting, but exhausted as she is from caring for siblings and her job sewing buttons, she can do little but sleep. Yet with this sleeping beauty at his side, it is he who awakens to a romance he has never known.
Tender, knowing, and slyly comic, Memories of My Melancholy Whores is an exquisite addition to the master’s work.
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Community Reviews
The writing is undeniably beautiful—lyrical in a way that reminded me of Anne Rice, where the prose itself feels almost like music. I loved the idea that even at ninety years old, someone can still change and discover love. That part of the theme was powerful.
But then there’s the story itself. I’ll admit—I only picked it up for the title, without reading the synopsis. I was expecting tales from the lives of women, maybe something raw and confessional. Instead, what I got was a pretentious old man who decided to celebrate his birthday by hiring a sleeping 14-year-old girl…and then convinced himself he was in love with her.
It’s unsettling, and while Marquez’s mastery of language is undeniable, I couldn’t connect with (or forgive) the actual premise. The prose? Gorgeous. The plot? Disturbing.
But then there’s the story itself. I’ll admit—I only picked it up for the title, without reading the synopsis. I was expecting tales from the lives of women, maybe something raw and confessional. Instead, what I got was a pretentious old man who decided to celebrate his birthday by hiring a sleeping 14-year-old girl…and then convinced himself he was in love with her.
It’s unsettling, and while Marquez’s mastery of language is undeniable, I couldn’t connect with (or forgive) the actual premise. The prose? Gorgeous. The plot? Disturbing.
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