Love in the Time of Cholera

What follows is a transcript of what went through my mind as I labored through the novel Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez. Think of this as a review of the book and be forewarned as it will ruin your experience of the story if you have not read it yet:

Yes, so he loves her.
She loves him.
She rejects him.
Meaningless events in his life.
Meaningless events in her life.
Some more events.
His sexual escapades.
Her mundane life embellished with travels.
Blah Blah Blah.
More events.
When will this story ever end?
A ton of GRE words here, good practice. Love Barron’s list.
They both age.
He still loves her.
He consoles her after husband’s death.
They’re old but still “active.”
They hook up on a boat.
The end.

Suffice to say that I did not enjoy the novel. I found the style to be tedious and onerous, and the plot to be an inflated repetition of an overrated romantic notion. What compelled me to read Márquez in the first place was the recent popular fascination with him, which I bluntly found to be uncalled for.