Literary Master 1983

Chapter 370 Márquez's Countdown

Márquez knew this too; he appeared strong on the surface, but was actually terrified.

What is the point of a writer if he can no longer think?
The cruelest thing in this world is that beauties grow old and heroes meet their end... God gave you such talent, and then took it all away, leaving you far inferior to ordinary people.

During his time in Barcelona, ​​Márquez poured all his passion into "The General in His Labyrinth." He began trying to quit smoking, return to his family, go to bed early and get up early... doing everything that could keep him engaged in writing.

However, Márquez's youthful vices had overtaxed his body, and now it was too late for him to remedy the situation. Moreover, his sudden surge in writing prowess had taken a heavy toll on his health; he often struggled to find inspiration, which would lead him to vent his frustration by throwing things; he would tire quickly and would frequently strike his skull with a tin teacup.

He hoped this method would magically bring him back to his senses! The omnipotent emperor in the literary world had returned, but it was of no use at all. Instead, it created a vicious cycle: the more he tormented himself, the less he could write.

One morning, Márquez woke up to find a strange bulge on the back of his neck.

His wife screamed in fright, "Gabo, you have a tumor on your neck!"

"really?"

Marquez strained to see the bump in the mirror and said calmly, "It's just a mosquito bite."

“Gabor…you know that couldn’t be…”

His wife tried to say a few more words of advice, but Márquez immediately flew into a rage: "Enough! I've had enough of your stupid talk!"

Marquez drove his wife away and even laid a hand on her… Fifteen minutes later, Marquez calmed down from his rage and tearfully apologized to his wife:

“You know, I didn’t mean to do this… I… I was just too scared…”

Marquez's wife comforted him instead. "Gabo, why are you so afraid?"

"Because my talent is slipping away, I've never felt it so acutely! It's leaving me! I'm going to become a completely useless person."

Suddenly, Márquez burst into tears and lay in the arms of his wife, Mercedes-Barza, like a child.

In a way, Bazaar was Márquez's mother in his adulthood. Although this Colombian woman was nine years younger than Márquez, she tolerated his bad temper and always supported and understood his career.

During the most difficult times, Bazaar pawned all her belongings to support Márquez's writing.

Even with "One Hundred Years of Solitude," it was Harper's Bazaar who suggested sending it to the publisher; at the time, Márquez didn't think he had written anything particularly good.

Therefore, even though Márquez became a womanizer after achieving fame, he would break up with any lover who wanted to replace Bazaar. Most people loved him because he was Márquez, but Bazaar loved him for who he was.

Bazaar stroked Márquez's hair as if he were a child, and said softly, "You have already succeeded. You are one of the greatest people in Colombian history. You have fulfilled the promise you made when you were young. You are a grown-up boy."

"Me?" Márquez murmured to himself, as if answering his own question, "I am indeed not bad, but I still have many regrets..."

"Gabo, what are you regretting?"

I?
Márquez suddenly began to recall his life.

There are so many regrets!
Neruda died right under his nose without him knowing; the genocide occurred in Colombia, and he often traveled from the airport to give speeches around the world, smelling the stench but remaining unperturbed; his friend Vargas Llosa was running for president of Peru and had already become a member of Congress, while Márquez knew he was incapable of being a politician and could not put his ambitions into practice.

What he regrets most is that, despite emphasizing everywhere that he doesn't like the term "magical realism," that he writes the truth and only uses exaggeration, this fabricated claim by the book reviewer still prevails.

Yu Qie stepped forward and forcibly reversed this narrative to Latin American realism. However, China was too far removed from the Western world, and Márquez could not see any possibility of overturning the verdict.

Of the five billion people in the world, only one billion know that he wrote "Blood and Tears," and what about the rest?
If only I could be like Yu Qie, fearless in the face of power, telling the story of his hometown—whether it's good or bad! No matter the cost!
Is it possible that we won't be misunderstood today?

If I could be like Yu Qie, physically eliminating my enemies and not letting anyone go—then no one would dare to use his name for their own benefit!
Would British television today say that in Aracataca, the town that served as the real-life inspiration for Macondo, a tragedy with even more deaths and injuries than the Wanxian massacre occurred in history, and let us mourn for the residents of these Colombian towns!
Isn't that a way of doing justice to the souls of the dead?
But Márquez just couldn't do it.

He was very good at writing novels, and that was all he could do. But this talent that made him so extraordinary was now about to leave him, and as a result, Márquez was completely devastated.

Soon, Márquez was taken to the hospital again.

This time, it was discovered that his lymphoma had worsened, and the lump on his neck was evidence of this.

The medical team offered several of the most advanced treatment options available today, each of which would damage his brain.

A Spanish national-level neurosurgeon sincerely stated:

“Mr. Márquez, the chemotherapy we are performing will inevitably damage your brain stem cells, and your memory will decline further… Unfortunately, you already have Alzheimer’s disease.”

"Will this cause me to lose my memory completely?" Márquez asked.

"Yes. But amnesia is only one manifestation. More often, it manifests as your inability to perform complex activities, such as cooking a dish or playing a game of cards. This is because these involve many quick and necessary decisions, each requiring instantaneous thought."

"What about writing novels?"

The doctor was stunned, but after a moment, he told the truth:

"I think it's impossible."

Perhaps realizing he had spoken too harshly, the doctor added, "But your lymphoma is still in its early stages, and we are confident that we can control it; Alzheimer's disease is not a fatal illness either. For an elderly person, it is still a respectable disease, without too much pain."

"You have at least ten years left, maybe thirty."

"—But I'm about to die!" Márquez was initially desperate, but gradually accepted reality and calmly said to himself, "Márquez is indeed about to die."

“On the ‘strips’ (medical record) you wrote, I knew my fate in advance. It turns out that this is indeed a cruel thing.”

Marquez's hospitalization finally alerted Yu Qie.

He rushed to the hospital and saw Márquez writing a novel in his hospital gown, looking much the same as before.

"Gabo, I heard you have cancer? Can you still be Carmen's 'alien'?"

“I won’t die,” Márquez remarked.

Yu Qie grinned. He knew that Márquez could live a very long time; in his original timeline, he had lived until 2014, so this was just a false alarm.

Unexpectedly, Márquez did not think so, because Márquez said to him, "Look at me carefully, the man in front of you doesn't have many years left to live."

"You've always been superstitious, why do you say that about yourself?" Yu Qie asked.

"When I lose the ability to think," Márquez said, "it's no different from being dead," he continued. "Then whatever you call me—pig or dog, or mock me—Márquez won't know, because he'll be dead." Yu Qie sighed deeply.

Márquez did indeed have a terminal illness, and words of comfort were of no use. He truly was in that condition.

Márquez's brother also had Alzheimer's, and as a result, his brother thought his brother was being too irrational after getting the disease... This is enough to illustrate Márquez's condition.

"Gabo, is there anything I can do for you?"

Instead of answering him, Márquez invited him to read his novel, *The General in His Labyrinth*.

This book took Márquez two years to write and is considered his last influential work. He wrote several other novels afterward, but they received only mediocre responses.

That's how writers are; even if you're the king of a certain field, readers won't recognize you once you lose your creativity.

A cursory glance reveals that this book clearly incorporates Márquez's personal emotions.

The book recounts the tragic and lonely later life of Bolívar, the ruler of Gran Colombia, and includes the following passage:
Bolívar's bodyguard, José, saw him floating naked on the surface of the bathtub, eyes wide open, and assumed he had drowned. The servant knew this was his way of thinking, but his dazed expression as he floated on the water made him seem as if he no longer belonged to this world.

At this moment, he wished he could sprout wings and fly away from Bogotá.

"Because nobody likes us here!" Bolivar said.

"The end of a hero?" Yu Che commented. "Bolivar rescued tens of thousands of people from the hands of the colonizers, but in the end his own Gran Colombia was destroyed, and those colonizers came back. He saw with his own eyes that his life had been in vain."

"You know about Bolivar? Well, it's like this. In his later years, Bolivar was plagued by illness and weighed only 44 kilograms. He met a skinny, mangy dog ​​and named it 'Bolivar'... He already knew his fate."

Yu Qie could tell that when Márquez wrote this book, he had deeply incorporated the sentiment: "Please accept my condolences."

"Do you have anything to say to me?" Márquez asked.

"It's nothing. I'm grateful to you, just as you're grateful to Hemingway. Without you guiding me, I wouldn't have evolved so quickly."

Marquez nodded.

This is not worth mentioning anymore.

He said, "I have an unfulfilled wish! This year, I was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature, and I wrote your name on it."

Yu Qie asked in surprise, "You mean..."

Márquez then asked, "Can you compete for the Nobel Prize in Literature while I'm still alive?"

This "alive" obviously refers to when Márquez is of sound mind. He only gave Yuqie a few years.

How many years does it take to win a Nobel Prize?
"This is too difficult, Gabo."

"It is indeed difficult, but if there is anyone in the world who can do this, I believe that person is you."

"Are you too anxious?"

"The doctor said that this disease makes people forget recent events, but they can remember things that happened a long time ago. So the earlier you won the award, the more firmly I will remember it."

What else could Yu Qie say?
This was Márquez's "last wish," and he could only agree to it on the spot.

“I swear I’ll get this sorted out. You’ll remember me then, you’ll know who I am.”
-
Marquez's illness also led to the renewed collaboration between Yuche and Carmen.

Both sides made concessions. Yu Qie ceded China, the United States, and half of Europe to Carmen, which was enough for Carmen to make a fortune. As for other areas, Yu Qie wanted to find new partners, and Carmen was not allowed to interfere.

In places like the United States, he needs to find several partners at the same time.

He has finished.

The American Psycho series concluded during this period, published not by Harper or McGraw-Hill, but by Simon & Schuster, a rising star in the American booksellers market. This publisher held the exclusive rights for the first five years.

Publisher Robert Gottlieb is extremely talented in marketing strategies and book design. Historically, he successfully promoted the Japanese author Murakami Haruki to developed countries, making Murakami Haruki one of the new era's Japanese icons.

Translations of novels such as "The Big Hand" and "Getting Home" were given to Jason, the father of the American paperback revolution.

In addition, Yu Qie also took notice of a group of booksellers who had started developing the Chinese market in the 1980s and maintained contact with them. If someone at the top did something wrong, these booksellers would be the ones to be promoted from backup to main.

He met with many publishers who had traveled from all corners of the world to Barcelona just to get a promise from him.

He was like a king sitting in his palace, meeting with princes from all walks of life. His new house in Barcelona became famous, and even Carlos's son Alfonso would come to visit him.

Carmen was understandably frustrated, as her global rights had been reduced to regional rights. But what could she do about it?

At a meeting of the company's shareholders, Carmen stated bluntly: "We have more than two hundred writers under our name, covering all over the world... but the Matthew effect is very obvious. Our total income mainly comes from Márquez, and in the future, from these two writers, Yuche."

No one thought Carmen was exaggerating.

Serious literature is generally quite obscure, but some writers manage to sell such books in a way that defies common sense.

In June, a piece of news caught Yu Qie's attention.

The embassy called to say that Gu Hua had been found, and that he was brought in by Nie Hualing and his wife.

Nie Hualing and his wife also wrote a heartfelt letter of apology, hoping that Yu Qie could be magnanimous.

Gu Hua suffered a lot. In the hospital, he saw news about a group of Oracle World Congress researchers who went to the United States to attend the conference. This group received double salaries and extra allowances. They were also invited to give lectures at universities with related departments, earning US dollars.

No one wanted to defect. Everyone who went to the US had received signatures from Yu Qie and Hu Houxuan, and was sponsored by Harper.

They knew perfectly well that researchers of ancient scripts were not valued, and even foreign professors did not fare well; otherwise, they would not have come to Anyang.

“We came here mainly on our own, and also thanks to Yuqie,” they said.

Then, to put it simply, Gu Hua went crazy after seeing the news.

(End of this chapter)