Does Your Fiction Need to Be Stretched?: Five Authors Describe the Magic of Magical Realism in Expressing Emotional Truths
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Does your fiction need to be stretched?: Five authors describe the magic of magical realism in expressing emotional truths. By: Corso, Paola, Writer (Kalmbach Publishing Co.), 00439517, , Vol. 120, Issue 10 Section: INTERVIEW Five authors describe the magic of magical realism in expressing emotional truths AS ONE WHO was born and raised in the Pittsburgh area, I've seen my native city from just about every angle--from the North Side, South Side, West End, East End and from the Golden Triangle, where three rivers converge and meander along its valleys. And when writing my story collection, Giovanna's 86 Circles, set in the Pittsburgh area, I began by rendering this familiar setting realistically. My characters live in a Pittsburgh on the decline, a time when mills are closing and unemployment is high, though they have a strong desire to somehow take hold of a future that's out of their control. But they end up in uncharted territory--a place where magical leaps in my writing allow them to see beyond the uncertainty. They are transported away in a daydream or a folktale or a bend in the story that offers a moment of clarity and vision. So while my stories are set in distinct Pittsburgh-area locations, what happens in them is not always so "grounded" or predictable. At Yesterday's News, a vintage clothing store on the South Side, a woman who donates her dead mother's clothes there learns that their destiny is not what she expected. In a steamy hospital laundry room along the Allegheny River, a high school girl hallucinates and discovers that she can see her co-workers' futures. A skeptical journalist visits a tavern to track down the town mayor, who he finds in seemingly perfect health, drinking with his buddies and celebrating what he claims is the last day of his life. As Eudora Welty said, if we don't surprise ourselves as writers, readers won't be surprised either. So how do we keep the element of surprise going? How do we observe the world around us and fill it with characters who take us somewhere we never imagined in our prose and poetry? We often make such leaps in our writing, but some of us take small steps forward, and some of us are broad jumpers who start with feet firmly planted in realism and yet end up in the magical. Consider such broad jumpers as Gabriel García Márquez, whose characters in the classic work of magical realism, One Hundred Years of Solitude, say incredible things with (in the author's words) "a completely unperturbed face" A priest in the novel levitates by means of chocolate, for example, and declares, "Just a moment, now we shall witness an undeniable proof of the infinite power of God." And there is Salman Rushdie, whose main use of magical realism in Midnight's Children involves the telepathic abilities of Saleem and the other thousand and one children born at the stroke of midnight on Aug. 15, 1947, the date of Indian independence. These abilities enable them to communicate with each other and read minds. In Toni Morrison's Beloved, the spirit of a murdered child haunts the Ohio home of a former slave in the troubled years following the Civil War. Magical realism is a genre that is certainly full of surprises, and it is a way to experiment in your writing for the sake of telling a good story and illustrating its theme. To provide you with a primer on this genre, I interviewed five of its accomplished authors. Read through their comments, and I think you'll better understand not just what magical realism is and why and how writers of fiction and poetry gravitate to it, but what it might allow you to do in your own storytelling that realism doesn't. You'll also learn what techniques the authors employ in their work and find a list of noteworthy titles to further acquaint you with the genre. My panelists were Linsey Abrams, Oscar De Los Santos, Anosh Irani, Tamara Kaye Sellman and Daniela Gioseffi. (See sidebar below for brief biographies.) How do you define magical realism? Oscar De Los Santos: Fiction that adheres closely to the laws of realism until it decides to take that turn into wondrous territories. Sometimes the movement is subtle and the shift slight. Other times, the change in the story is radical and discombobulates the reader. Linsey Abrams: My definition doesn't include the powerful Latin American literature for which the term was coined: a surreal narrative in which odd events and consequences quite naturally twist human fate and history. For me, magical realism in fiction occurs when "real life" meets a question at the crossroads. When standing on real ground, we are suddenly confronted with an event or person whose behavior or existence belies the ground rules. In life we might call out: "I must have been dreaming!" "What a wild coincidence!" "This can't possibly be happening!" Tamara Kaye Sellman: It's almost easier to define what magical realism is not. To my mind, it's not fantasy, in the purest sense. Fantasy uses world-building and very specific tropes (i.e., unicorns, wizards, dragons), whereas magical realism is written as part of the known universe and generally avoids communion with fantastic devices, except in the case of some more supernatural tropes like angels, devils and ghosts. Even then, magical realism is not particularly gothic or moralizing; the impossibilities are part of a more mundane environment. No character is ever shocked by the talking animal or the ages-old curse or the conversation with the dead: These things are normal, as conveyed by the writer. They reflect community beliefs and folkways, old knowledge in a new world. Daniela Gioseffi: A story or poem written in the style of magical realism contains surreal or fantastical elements that happen within a realistic setting or circumstance. Characterizations are often realistic, but magical events happen that express an emotional truth. Properties of the fantastic and realistic are blended in one work. One well-known visual example might demonstrate: The painting "Birthday" created by Marc Chagall in 1915, contains some fantastic elements in a realistic and mundane setting. The man is floating in the air as he kisses the woman, who is surrounded by ordinary household objects. The couple is realistically portrayed as human figures in an indoor setting of chairs and tables and plates and cooking utensils. The man's floating above the woman as he kisses her obviously represents the emotion the man experiences as he kisses the woman and hands her a birthday bouquet. One can't talk about magical realism without mentioning surrealism and symbolism as elements of the genre. Why did you gravitate toward this genre as a writer? Irani: I think there are certain stories that cannot be written in any other way. My first novel, The Cripple and His Talismans, is the story of a man in search of his lost arm. It's obvious that there is a magical element to it. So the choice was natural. For my second book, The Song of Kahunsha, I took a realistic approach because it's about an orphan's journey into the underbelly of Bombay, and his fight to retain morality. The "magic" in this book is simply the fact that after all the things he has seen and done, he manages to keep hope alive. So story dictates style. De Los Santos: I believe that authors who choose to use the fantastic do so to explore their ideas more daringly and expansively. Also, they use magical realism to challenge readers to think about a story in ways they may not have had the tale remained conventional and mainstream. Gioseffi: I feel magical realism allows more emotional expression through symbolism, through magical elements that may be intrinsically believable but are never actually explained, leaving more room for readers' imagination to enter into a poem or story. Perhaps, too, there is more ability to explore sensory details when freed from strict reality. Cause and effect can be inverted and time collapsed. Abrams: I didn't start out gravitating toward the genre. … But I am a lyrical writer, and I think lyricism, if taken far enough, becomes like dreaming, or mythic imagining or even yearning, the most powerful emotion. In these instances, anything can happen and because of the "reality" of the predicaments, can be believed. (In Morrison's Beloved, a ghost has the illegitimacy of a ghost [but] the legitimate claims of a character.) I will say that I have never been interested in what can be explained away. What does this magical realism allow you to do in your storytelling that realism doesn't? Irani: There are certain stories that simply cannot be told in a realistic manner. They need an element of the absurd, the illogical, to arrive at a deeper understanding. De Los Santos: I like to weave magical realism into some of my fiction because it allows me to develop radical metaphors that I hope more strikingly illuminate whatever I'm conveying. It and other forms of fantastic storytelling -- horror, for example--are extremely liberating. Sellman: Magical realism allows you to express a subversive message without being maudlin or didactic. This happens through the expert use of symbolism and metaphor. Writers in Latin America have used magical realism to express their versions of history, truth and identity while living through centuries of colonial oppression and civil unrest. Listen, there is the truth that the state sanctions and the truth that a community witnesses, and many times these are not one and the same.