Strange pilgrims : twelve stories

Strange Pilgrims (original Spanish-language title: Doce cuentos peregrinos) is a collection of twelve loosely related short stories by the Nobel Prize–winning Colombian writer Gabriel García Márquez. Not published until 1992, the stories that make up this collection were originally written during the seventies and eighties. Each of the stories touches on the theme of dislocation and the strangeness of life in a foreign land, although quite what "foreign" means is one of García Márquez's central questions. García Márquez himself spent some years as a virtual exile from his native Colombia. The 12 Stories In This Shimmering Collection Poignantly Depict South Americans Adrift In Europe. Combining Terror And Nostalgia, Surreal Comedy And The Poetry Of The Commonplace, Strange Pilgrims Is A Triumph Of Narrative Sorcery By The Nobel Prize-winning Author Of One Hundred Years Of Solitude. Bon Voyage, Mr. President -- The Saint -- Sleeping Beauty And The Airplane -- I Sell My Dreams -- I Only Came To Use The Phone -- The Ghosts Of August -- Maria Dos Prazeres -- Seventeen Poisoned Englishmen -- Tramontana -- Miss Forbes's Summer Of Happiness -- Light Is Like Water -- The Trail Of Your Blood In The Snow. By Gabriel García Márquez ; Translated From The Spanish By Edith Grossman. Analyse : Contes A l'image des histoires qui les animent, ces vagabonds sont d'étranges pèlerins, tous latino-américains, projetés aux quatre coins d'une Europe insolite, en des aventures où la magie et l'humour sont articulés par ce que Gabriel Garda Marquez considère comme essentiel à la construction de cet ouvrage : la perspective du temps." Je crois avoir ainsi réussi le livre de contes qui se rapproche le plus de celui que j'ai toujours voulu écrire ", nous dit l'auteur. Par son envoûtante beauté, la force et la puissance romanesque de ses héros, Douze Contes vagabonds est un livre merveilleusement accompli auquel une dimension tragique donne le souffle des grands textes. HE SAT ON a wooden bench under the yellow leaves in the deserted park, contemplating the dusty swans with both his hands resting on the silver handle of his cane, and thinking about death.