Often deemed kitsch, bizarre and ‘exotic’, magical realism has become a
genre confined to the past: its most renowned novel, Garcia-Marquez’s One
Hundred Years of Solitude has come to dominate public perception of
the genre, whilst the number of works published as part of the genre has
dwindled.
Silvia Moreno-Garcia illustrated the problems with magical realism in her
article Saying Goodbye to Magical Realism for the New York Times, rightly
pointing out that it is dominated by a model formed from works of the past:
readers expect a rewrite of One Hundred Years of Solitude, featuring long
familial lines, rural settings and, most importantly, the ‘exotic’.
These ‘exotic’ stereotypes came to dominate the perception of the genre,
especially in relation to Latin America. Moreno-Garcia points out that Latin
American works are often deemed part of the magical realism genre, merely
for being Latin American. This has led many, like Moreno-Garcia, to feel that it
is time to leave magical realism behind.
Indeed, Cuban author Alejo Carpentier coined the term ‘lo maravilloso real’
(‘the marvelous real’) rather than ‘magical realism’, hoping to create a distinct
genre rather than aligning with one that carried these ‘exotic’ stereotypes with
it.
Yet, whilst we may abandon the term ‘magical realism’ and the connotations
that the genre came to be known by, we must not forget its enormous potential: the combining of the fantastical with that which is firmly rooted in society provides a unique, rich opportunity for a distinctly modern text to use the tools of fantasy. This has led to displays of political messaging and resounding imagery that would otherwise be impossible; moreover, the use of magical realism as a tool of post-colonialism and as part of anti-slavery movements cannot be ignored.
For example, Isabel Allende’s The House of the Spirits offers a deeply political
story, creating a shocking portrayal of the corruption and immorality of Chile
during the early 20th century. Her use of magical realism in the form of
communication with spirits offers a story with a rich blend of characters,
creating distinct imagery and a strong political message against Chile under
dictatorship.
Alejo Carpentier’s novel The Kingdom of this World combines the brutal reality
of slavery in colonial Haiti with aspects of the fantastical — paving the way for
Carpentier to write a compelling tale of a fight against French Colonialism.
However, perhaps the most effective example of the integration of realism and
the ‘magical’ comes in the form of Toni Morrison’s Beloved. Morrison
seamlessly integrates the fantastical in the form of a ghost called ‘Beloved’
with the post-slavery Reconstruction era in America. Beloved’s ghost serves a
central role in the novel, an embodiment of slavery that reflects the trauma of
America’s history in a resounding personification – an image impossible to
craft without these tools of fantasy.
These novels encapsulate the power of a literary tool rich with opportunity for
symbolism, political messaging and stunning imagery alike. Whilst
acknowledging the pitfalls of magical realism, and perhaps dismissing the
term altogether, we should not consign the use of the fantastical in realist
fiction to a thing of the past, nor view it through the lens of ‘exotic’ stereotypes;
rather, its unique offerings should be harnessed and used to its full potential.
Photo by Gonzalo Kenny on Unsplash