[Heteronym]

One Hundred Years of Solitude helped turn my attention to literature. I had never before read such a complex novel, which broke the timeline and hinted at events that hadn't happened yet, like the flow of time was irrelevant. The prose had a sensuous impression that I've seldom seen imitated: all the colors, smells, and shapes of Macondo came so alive I thought I could see the village.

Since then I've read almost every novel and short-story collection he's written, and although he's had his less good books over the years, I think he's one of the giants of modern literature.