I found myself underwhelmed by Borges and Marquez; their brand of "magical realism" turned out not to be my cuppa. I found myself much, much happier with Mario Vargas Llosa's Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter. The book's chapters alternate between young "Marito's" first person account of his love affair with his much older in-law Aunt Julia, and the third-person tales of "the scriptwriter" of a popular radio soap opera. I found both parts equally engaging. Given that "Marito" is a diminutive for Mario, and the character also has the nickname "Varguitas" (as in Vargas), that he's an aspiring writer in Lima, Peru and that the book is dedicated "to Julia Urquidillanes, to whom this novel and I owe so much" the autobiographical connection is obvious. Given Marito's age if his and Vargas Llosa's date of birth can be taken to be the same, the events in this novel take place around 1954. Fortunately, Marito is an endearing character, and that part is brought off beautifully.
The second part? Well, a friend who adores this novel warned that I might find some parts "offensive." And boy there are parts in that third person portion that right from the start seem racist and misogynistic. But by the time the more egregious parts came up, it was obvious those parts weren't the "real" story but the inventions of the mad scriptwriter, Pedro Camacho, who works at the same radio station where Marito holds a job. And so much there really is fun because each episode only grows more bizarre with the telling, and as Marito lets you in on the consequences after these stories are aired... One running joke concerns Argentinians, who Camacho absolutely despises. And eventually there is a sort of punchline to that (and other threads) at the end.
On the whole I found this a light-hearted, good-natured novel, even if a bit bittersweet in the end. I loved the ride, and definitely will be seeking out more by this Nobel-Prize-winning author.
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