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Released in March this year, “Until August” tells the story of a woman, Ana Magdalena Bach, who makes a yearly trek to her mother’s grave on a Caribbean island to not only lay flowers but to have extramarital affairs with different men. However, author Gabriel García Márquez, who passed away 10 years prior to the book’s release, wanted it to be destroyed and never read by anyone, let alone published.
Regarded as one of the greatest Spanish-language authors of all time and best known for his novel, “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” García Márquez was worried that, given his battle with dementia, the book wasn’t at the caliber his fans had come to expect. His sons, the heirs to his final work, had a peculiar ethical choice to make: publish their father’s final novel for his audience or accept his wishes and destroy the manuscript.
García Márquez’s sons, Rodrigo García and Gonzalo García Barcha, ultimately made the choice to publish, committing what they themselves called “an act of betrayal” in order to honor not only the late Colombian author but his fans as well. Although their decision ended up causing both controversy and intrigue in the literary world, aspects of this story go deeper than the clickbait notion of a monumental writer betrayed by his duplicitous sons.
Following García Márquez’s death in 2014, his bequeathed literary estate included drafts and notes on the unfinished “Until August,” which were presented in various iterations to the public throughout the author’s life. In 1997, he even read aloud an excerpt, and in an interview with journalist Rosa Mora in 2004, he said he felt “quite satisfied” with the development of the protagonist, but not entirely with the book. As a known rewriter, it is possible that the book’s constant revisions became looped in an endless purgatory between García Márquez’s habit of perfectionism and his declining health.
“That notion of a final text and of the author’s final intent is often a kind of illusory thing,” said Stephen Enniss, director of the Harry Ransom Center in Austin, Texas, where much of García Márquez’s drafts, journals and belongings are displayed. “And the multiple drafts of an archive like the one here at the Ransom Center just underscore how fluid texts are and how many competing texts might actually exist for a given work.”
Enniss went on to add that “the process of writing is a highly unstable activity, and many intense second thoughts can creep into drafting.”
Joanna Reynolds, the CEO of The Folio Society, a publisher that works with many posthumously published titles, said that though it’s a sensitive subject, society would have lost a lot of major and influential works without the option of publishing posthumously. She pointed to books like Anne Frank’s “The Diary of a Young Girl” or Mikhail Bulgakov’s “The Master and Margarita,” which wouldn’t have made it past government sensors had there been a push to publish them while the authors were still alive.
“It’s the job of each generation to reassess past works and to judge which should remain relevant. The creative act lasts well beyond the author’s death,” Reynolds said.
We spoke with Rodrigo García, who is presently shooting a film, about his father and the publishing of “Until August.” The interview has been edited and condensed for clarity:
Do you feel that the publishing process for “Until August” was respectful to your family and your father’s work?
It’s a choice you have to make. Obviously, my father thought the book didn’t make sense, but we decided that the book was in better shape than he could probably judge. He never left a book unfinished. He either finished it and published it, or he destroyed it. So there were no works in progress. We thought the book, although not as polished or as important as many of his other books — and that, of course, is a high bar — was enjoyable. And we thought readers would enjoy hearing his voice one more time, and I think it has proven so.
Was it respectful? The book was at the Ransom Center [where] it was already scanned and open for students and researchers to read, so it was already being read. A couple of pages had been photographed and published, and we were also worried that it could leak and be published in pirated editions in Latin America, which are not uncommon. But ultimately, it was our choice to make, and we feel a little validated by the fact that our father always said, “When I’m dead, do what you want.”
It’s such a personal experience to have a family member dealing with dementia and mitigating their autonomy with the disease, and it puts you in a difficult position. How long was the discussion about deciding to publish “Until August” for you and your family?
Yes, there was a process for my brother and me. We left the book untouched for 10 years. And then, after it was made public by the Ransom Center for researchers, we also read it again, and we thought it was better than we remembered. Our best guess is that our father, because of his dementia, lost the ability to judge the book. If he had not lost that ability, he would have either finished it or destroyed it.
What made you believe that the book was ready to be published or that it was as complete as it could be?
I think, mostly, readers have been thankful to hear his voice for one last time. And the question if audiences should view it as a complete reflection or compare [it] to his other work? I think the book should be viewed as a work of his, and it’s very characteristically his. It still has many of its flourishes, his descriptive powers, and a very interesting female character at the center of it, which is rare for him. He has great female characters, but never one as the principal character of a novel. And we thought it was good and a feminist piece. And not just for that reason, but we thought everything taken together made a good addition to his canon — however unpolished it was in the end. These are things you have to decide on your own.
It’s set a little bit in a more contemporary world, or at least closer to our time. My father’s books usually happen in a kind of rarified space, a place that seems a little bit out of time. A kind of Colombia in its own bubble. And again, yes, it was written with declining mental health, but I think it fits into the canon of his writing and his obsession with love stories and his obsession with the subjects of sensuality, sex and matrimony — subjects that he’s touched on in different ways and in many of his books. So I think this one adds to it.
This interview was done by Emily Bond, HuffPost Books contributor. Keep reading to see a list of other posthumously published books.
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