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Well, I will say that this pretty much is, and has been for a long time, my default answer for 'greatest novel ever written'. The sheer magic, surrealism, beauty and scope of Marquez's creation is astounding, especially in the way that he somehow manages to put it all together in a way that is somehow intensely moving and 'real', which so completely transcending reality. I really need to find the time to reread it. Oh also, possibly the greatest ending of any work of fiction...
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The toothaches got worse, she dreamed of disembodied voices from whose malignance there was no appeal, the soft dusk of mirrors out of which something was about to walk, and empty rooms that waited for her. Your gynaecologist has no test for what she was pregnant with.
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