The rising popularity of Magical Realism as a literary genre is a direct reflection of current and universal cultural shifts, which infuse the mystical with the mundane.
When I recently published my novella Moonwaiting, it definitively fell under the umbrella of Magical Realism, but even the platform I used to publish it did not provide that category. So rare is the specific genre, that it tends to simply fall under Fantasy. Yet, Magical Realism is just as much Realism as it is Fantasy, and plenty of Full-Fantasy novels should not be confused with Magical Realism.
What is Magical Realism?
The common definition will tell you that Magical Realism is “when an ordinary setting with ordinary people holds an undercurrent of magical elements which are considered a normal part of life” (masterclass.com). Umm…isn’t that true of every traditional spiritual path?
Who writes it?
This wonderful genre was born of South and Central American writers, most notably Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967) and Isabel Allende’s The House of Spirits (1982), as well as Laura Esquivel’s Like Water for Chocolate (1989), all of which explore political messages via cultural-mythical threads. Equally, Salman Rushdie, an Indian-British novelist is known for The Satanic Verses (1988), which also explores political themes through Magical Realism. These Magical Realism stories have been embraced internationally for decades. Other versions of Magical Realism in the United States came with Toni Morrison’s Beloved ( 1987), and arguably, every novel ever written by Ojibwe author Louise Erdrich.
Do You Believe in Magic?
What strikes me as the unique blend of the magical and the real is this timeless notion of myth. Modern mythology, possibly magical realism, spins modern stories of real humans with their spiritual lens upon recent events. Did this supernatural power cause that extraordinary event in an otherwise common, ordinary world? Some say that it did. I say, it is real if you believe it is real. Because that is exactly what creates our reality, even if we simply suspend disbelief during the course of a book.
Furthermore, if some part of us believes that we can pray to a deity of our choosing, and actually get results, is it possible that most of us find comfort and satisfaction from a faith in something more, something beyond us, or perhaps even within us? Isn’t our innate divinity exactly what we describe as magical?
Can we impact our own lives by applying cause and effect relations to a higher power? In believing whatever we choose, are we not creating our own magic, an energetic purpose, an intention? Does that not bring us real pleasure, both sensual and mindful? Within the context of fiction, reality is then subjective.
