I came across Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s 1982 Nobel Prize acceptance speech and, good Lord, is it a doozy. Try this on for size (speaking in regards to One Hundred Years of Solitude):
I dare to think that it is this outsized reality, and not just its literary expression, that has deserved the attention of the Swedish Academy of Letters. A reality not of paper, but one that lives within us and determines each instant of our countless daily deaths, and that nourishes a source of insatiable creativity, full of sorrow and beauty, of which this roving and nostalgic Colombian is but one cipher more, singled out by fortune. Poets and beggars, musicians and prophets, warriors and scoundrels, all creatures of that unbridled reality, we have had to ask but little of imagination, for our crucial problem has been a lack of conventional means to render our lives believable. This, my friends, is the crux of our solitude.
The rest of the speech is full of a series of similarly chilling and profound revelations, both about literature and Latin America, especially in regards to both of these things’ relationship with Europe. I highly recommend reading the speech if you are interested in Latin American literature (as you all should be) or if you’re interested in Marquez (as I assume most of you are).