Of which Marquez wants nothing to do with. He prefers to make his intrigueing symbols and metaphors bold and strong. Remember the indelible crosses of ash on the seventeen sons of Aureliano? Here’s what they were for:
"During the course of that week, at different places along the coast, his seventeen sons were hunted down like rabbits by invisible criminals who aimed at the center of their crosses of ash. Aureliano Triste was leaving the house with his mother at seven in the evening when a rifle shot came out of the darkness and perforated his forehead. Aureliano Centeno was found in the hammock that he was accustomed to hang up in the factory with an icepick between his eyebrows driven in up to the handle." (p. 257)
And on through all, except for one, Aureliano Amador who manages to escape. (Why, I wonder…)
Aside from the fond stirring of memories of McCarthy’s Blood Meridian in recall of such bash and slash blood and guts laid out on the reading table from these last few pages, of course I ponder the meaning of the ash crosses as more than dead-center aiming points for the slaughter of all but one (aha! remember this!) of the poor Aureliano spawn.
So once again I am stopped and made to think. Ten pages read in but a few minutes, but lived with for days.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology