Pedro Paramo (Letras Hispanicas)

Rating:
Summary: Perfect
Review: Pedro Paramo is, without a doubt, the strangest and most original book I have ever read. The story focuses on the character of Juan Preciado and his search for his origins after the death of his mother.

The flawless writing is both surrealistic and impressionistic and the story Rulfo tells is the most horrifying I have ever read.

The plot of Pedro Paramo contains many shifts in time that might be confusing for some readers. So might the story's many layers of complexity. Is Pedro Paramo simply a story of unrelieved horror, or is it a metaphor for Latin America itself? Perhaps it is both.

The book may scare the daylights out of you, but the story never lags. On the contrary, it picks up pace as it evolves toward an inevitable, though not predictable, ending.

Although Juan Rulfo wrote many short stories, Pedro Paramo is his only novel. It is definitely a masterpiece and definitely one of a very different order. Pedro Paramo may shock you, horrify you or leave you feeling bewildered, but it will certainly be a completely different story from anything you've ever read before.

Rating:
Summary: are you looking for the best?
Review: Pedro Páramo's Juan Rulfo is one of the best mexican writers book, it has everything that a master play needs: quality, greatness and incomprehensible simplicity. So, if you want pleasure (mexican one)you must read Rulfo's book for sure!

Rating:
Summary: Not surreal or haunting: It's 1950 in Latin America!
Review: Rulfo decided that in just one short, potent book, he coud summarised the essence of literarure. So he wrote Pedro Paramo. We know the story: Preciado's quest for his father (nothing new here!) But the style, the verse, the rythm, the simple, complicated and rich text, obliges you to read till the end.

Do you think that Comala is an invention? Isn't more misteriuos to think that the town is somewhere deep in Mexico? Perhaps you can meet Juan, and all the other ghosts (?) that make Comala so irresistible.

After this novel, Rulfo didnot inked a new line: what was the case. He approached utter perfection, and like Deadalus, burnt with its sun, and understood that he had achieved what other, more "prolific" authors, will never do.

Pedro Paramo was born almost together with "One Hundred Years of Solitude", and 50 years later we are still searching for Paramo and for a Buendia: perhaps they are together, fighting a lost war, or toasting for our good health, with a bottle of tequila, in a town that does not exist, in a place that we only can imagine, in a time whose only virtue is repeating itself, till we find them, and join the party.