The General in His Labyrinth was written in a very unique style.  This is the first novel of Marquez’s that I have read, and so I did not know quite what to expect.  It took me some time to adjust to the dreamlike style of narrative and the rapid transitions between recollection and current events.  However, this was no more challenging than figuring out who was speaking in I the Supreme. 

The most interesting segments of this novel were those when the General wanders off in the night.  His solitary walks are evocative of the kind of calm madness that I imagine overcomes the very powerful.  The encounters the General has in these moments seem to be the most genuine, the most visceral.  When he is surrounded by his closest allies he often behaves strangely, lashing out at a man one moment and praising him the next.  When he is alone however, he is unarmoured and unarmed, unable to deflect the verbal barbs of dissenters and unequipped, not to mention unwilling, to strike back.

Another element of the General’s ongoing mental decay is his fleeting fixations with minor irritations, especially those that are beyond the scope of his power.  In the pursuit of peace he blames flowers for ill-health, the flow of a river for his delirium, and the playing of fifes for his losing streak.  What I enjoy most about this is the remarkable way in which his soldiers, aides, and friends take his strange requests in stride.  No one seems perturbed by his irrationality, and even Palacios seems largely unconcerned with the General wanders off naked in the night.  Again, I get the feeling that this sort of behaviour is a common symptom, if not a requirement, of the sort of personal charisma that people like Bolivar possess.  There is so much force and conviction in them that their every action is an unstoppable one, no matter how strange – even to themselves.