“Pedro Paramo" by Juan Rulfo (translated by Douglas J. Weatherford)

This novella, from 1955, is considered a Mexican classic of magical realism. Reading it also supposedly cured Marquez of a stubborn case of writer’s block. The story begins hauntingly, “I came to Comala because I was told my father lived here, a man named Pedro Paramo. That’s what my mother told me. And I promised her I’d come see him as soon as she died….—Don’t ask him for anything. Just insist on what’s ours. What he was obligated to give me but never did . . . Make him pay dearly, my son, for the indifference he showed toward us.” Before long, real ghosts and spirits make there presence felt in the town of Comala. “If only you could see the horde of souls that roam the streets. They come out as soon as it gets dark, and we’re all afraid of seeing them. With so many of them and so few of us we no longer plead for them to be freed from their torment. There just aren’t enough prayers to go around. Maybe we could say a few lines of the Lord’s Prayer for each one, but what good would that do? And then there’s the matter of our own sins. There’s not a one of us still alive who enjoys the grace of God. We can’t even look toward Heaven without feeling our eyes soiled with shame.” The plot is almost as depressing as it is strange. “—This world grabs onto us so tightly it squeezes out fistfuls of our dust here and there, breaking us into pieces as if to douse the land with our blood. What did we do? Why have our souls rotted away?”