BOOK

One Hundred Years of Solitude
Gabriel García Márquez
Harper & Row, 1970

Gabriel García Márquez is hailed as one of the greatest writers of the 20th century. Gabo, as he's affectionately known, has enthralled the world with his tales of Latin American mysticism and folklore. One Hundred Years of Solitude is considered his finest masterpiece.

Masterpiece it might be, but it's a hard book to get into. The first 100 pages are gruelling. The pace is slow, all the characters seem to have the same name, and as a reader, you aren't quite sure where this adventure is going to take you. The book sat on my bed stand for months before I actually picked it up again. The one thing about Gabo's books is that you have to 'let it happen'. It's a bit like following a trickling brook — if you follow it long enough it will spill into a lake and that's when the story happens. Before you know it you are 300 pages in and you can't let go.

One Hundred Years of Solitude intertwines the epic tale of the Buendía family, the town of Macondo and the characters that pass through. Gabo uses the simple and humble town of Macondo as a metaphor for the modern world. All the troubles that hit Macondo have touched our world — and his advice is to watch as history repeats itself. Learn from the past and preserve the future is the ímessage he sends.

— Carla Sparks

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FILM

Suddenly, last summer
Dir: Joseph Mankiewicz
Columbia/Tristar Studios, 1959
DVD release, 2000

Homosexuality, incest, rape, lobotomy, pedophilia, cannabalism — you name it, this film has it covered. Nothing seems too taboo for this classic black and white based on a Tennessee Williams play. The plot centres around the death of poet Sebastian Venable and starts off with an amazing yet creepy monologue by Katharine Hepburn who plays his overbearing mother. There's an ugly secret surrounding Sebastian's death and his cousin Cathy (Elizabeth Taylor) is the only one who knows it. Mrs Violet Venable isn't about to allow anyone to spread nasty rumours about her dear dead son — however true they may be — so she plans to have Cathy lobotomized. Enter Dr John Cukrowicz (Montgomery Clift), who despite pressure from his superior at the mental institute, doesn't want to rush into any decisions before he assesses the patient more thoroughly. He finds Cathy charming. The girl is clearly traumatized but a lobotomy seems a bit too extreme. So, he decides to help Cathy and Violet come to terms with Sebastian's death no matter how many dirty secrets there are in the closet.

This gothic film adaptation by Gore Vidal is perhaps more famous for the rumored off-screen spats by its stars than for its over-the-top themes. Supposedly, Ms Hepburn and Ms Taylor constantly battled for screen time. Ms Hepburn warred openly with director Joseph Mankiewicz while a postaccident Mr Clift relied heavily on painkillers during the gruelling shoot. The result is a weird yet highly entertaining cinematic masterpiece.

— Felix Ansel

Pop

Coal Miner's Daughter
Loretta Lynn
MCA, 1971

When a French music magazine asked rocker-du-jour Jack White of The White Stripes for his favourite book, film and album, his answers were Coal Miner's Daughter, Coal Miner's Daughter, and Coal Miner's Daughter. When you hear the plaintive lyrics about her childhood in a poor coal mining hamlet, it's easy to understand why.

Ms Lynn's daddy was a model of a hardworking but proud miner: "We were poor but we had love/ That's the one thing my Daddy made sure of." And her mommie a southern saint: "Mommie scrubbed our clothes on a washboard everyday/ Why I've seen her fingers bleed, but to complain there was no need."

Though mega-hit "Coal Miner's Daughter" certainly dominates the album, the rest of the songs are far from filler. There's Conway Twitty's sad "Hello Darlin'" and a honky tonk version of "Snowbird."

Along with Patsy Cline, Jean Shepherd, Kitty Wells and Tammy Wynette, Ms Lynn was a reigning queen of 1960s Nashville. She made her mark as a proto-feminist with a number of tough talking songs, such as "Don't Come Home A-Drinkin' (With Lovin' on Your Mind)." But nothing surpassed her 1975 hit "The Pill" in which she sings, "I'm tearin' down your brooder house 'cause now I've got the Pill." The song struck a chord with women country fans, but Bible belt radio stations quickly banned it.

At 69-years-old and a grand dame of Nashville, Ms Lynn's career is still going strong. She even returned Jack White's compliment by asking him to produce her most recent record, Van Lear Rose.

— Toss Taylor

You might also like: I am Shelby Lynne by Shelby Lynne

Calling all doctors! Do you have a classic film, CD or book that you love? Would you be interested in sharing it with your colleagues? If so, why not submit your review to the National Review of Medicine. Send your article to [email protected] and we'll send you a gift if we publish it.