Tuesday, October 15, 2019

Blog 7

"If you bear iguanas, we'll raise iguanas," he said. "But there'll be no more killings in this town because of you." ... The matter was put down as a duel of honor, both of them were left with a twinge in their conscience. One night, when she could not sleep, Ursula went into the courtyard to get some water and she saw Prudencio Aguilar by the water jar. He was livid, a sad expression on his face, trying to cover the hole in his throat with a plug made of esparto grass. It did not bring on fear in her, but pity. She went back to the room and told her husband what she had seen but he did not think much of it. "This just means that we can't stand the weight on our conscience." Two nights later Ursula saw Prudencio Aguilar again, in the bathroom, using the esparto plug to wash the clotted blood from his throat. On another night she saw him strolling in the rain. Jose Acardio Buendia, annoyed by his wife's hallucinations, went out into the courtyard armed with the spear. there was the dead man with his sad expression. "You go to hell," Jose Acardio Buendia shouted at him. "Just as many times as you come back, I'll kill you again." (22)

This particular excerpt was appealing to me because it is a great example of Marquez's use of magical realism to express the love between Jose and Ursula. In terms of Ursula, it shows how guilty she feels about Prudencio's death over her holding her virginity from Jose and a little bit of village talk. In reality, Ursula had no control over what her ancestors were doing and tries to take control of her life, but its obvious how strong of a connection she has to Jose; she really stands behind him no matter what and is always forgiving him for his antics. And for Jose, he kills a man just to show his wife that he wants a family and future with her, disregarding the unfortunate chances of bearing an "iguana". The imagery was very effective, but I still got the sense that Ursula and Jose do not regret anything because of the bigger picture of their lives.

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