Magical realism as a genre is a bit of a mixed bag for me. I loved some books, like The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov and Beloved by Toni Morrison, was charmed by some stories, like Life of Pi by Yann Martell, and have not been able to get through others, like One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. My effort this year (the seventh book on my readling list this year) was Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino. I read rave reviews of this book and was looking forward to it – Marco Polo describing mythical cities to Kublai Khan – sounds a hoot! I thought the descriptions of the cities would be magical and some were. Others were amusing and fun to read. But others were more pedestrian – more real than magical and less special than others. The themes emerging in the descriptions are of memory and experience. Ultimately, I did not feel that it hung together and I did not finish this book – I didn’t find it compelling. It’s wonderful if others find it a great read. As I read some Goodreads reviews to try to understand why so many people were drawn to this book, I hit upon a question posed by another reader that captured my thoughts in a nutshell: had this book been written by someone other than a literary giant, would it be greeted with such fanfare and enthusiasm? I’m not so sure. In any event, I don’t think this one is for me.
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho was … okay. The story itself was charming enough – a young shepherd from Spain wanted to leave his village and explore the world. He was told by a gypsy and an odd old man that he would find his treasure at the Pyramids in Egypt. He sets out and experiences adventure and learns life lessons along the way. Although I enjoyed the main story on a basic level, the “deeper” parts of the novel didn’t grab me. It felt repetitious and like it was trying too hard to be profound.
Like the author, I was raised Catholic and appreciate many things about the religion, but also am spiritual in a way that strains against the “rules” of the Church. So, I could relate to the basic premise of the book – that we all have a journey, for lack of a better word, that is unique and that we have to listen to our hearts and perhaps something else to find our way. This book just felt heavy-handed to me. It was an easy read and moved along quickly, but it didn’t really touch me. I think this would have been better had I read it 25 years ago! Maybe I’ve read too many books from which I’ve drawn inspiration and I’m comfortable with my “journey” and decisions. It was a good read, but not much more for me.
Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie is unusual and, though sometimes the writing style is frustrating, overall it is entertaining and compelling. It is sometimes funny, sometimes sad, and frequently thought-provoking. The story focuses primarily on Saleem Sinai, who is born at the moment of India’s independence. In this tale, the 1001 children born in India’s first hour (midnight’s children) all have some kind of unusual power. Saleem is able to hear the thoughts of others and to create a space in which “the children” can communicate remotely. Others have the ability to fly, to change genders, time-travel, etc. though we don’t get to know many of these children.
Saleem believes that they have a special destiny and contribution to make, so he tries to get them together – at least in the conference space of his mind – starting at about age 10. The book really seems to have three parallel stories that take place over 30 years. In the personal development of Saleem (we get a taste of earlier generations via his stories of his great-grandfather, grandparents and parents). We also hear about the maturation of midnight’s children. And we hear about the first 30 years of India as an independent nation (and the emergence of Pakistan and Bangladesh). All three involve reality and fantasy, which are woven together to form a rich and detailed tapestry.
Saleem’s story could be enjoyed on its own, without the other two story lines. He is switched at birth with another of midnight’s children – his childhood is affluent and the other child is impoverished. But, this is not a “prince and the pauper” story where the children meet and become friends. Saleem’s story is harsh; despite his economic circumstances, he has his share of difficulties and he is ostracized by the other children in the neighborhood/school more than once. He is an odd duck and is not a particularly attractive child. His family is full of characters, particularly the women in the family – sometimes silly, sometimes satirical, the circumstances are often humorous and sometimes poignant. This story line is the most relatable of the three because, well, all families have these characters, all families have good times and bad. When his family learns of the switch, there were several different reactions, which seemed believable to me. It also is the most fully developed of the three story lines – the reader gets to know these various characters and starts to understand them a bit – they convey the cultural aspects of the story.
The second storyline was in some ways the least developed in my opinion. We get to meet a few of the children (notably: Shiva the “war god” – who was switched with Saleem – and Parvati the magician/witch), but only those who are actively engaged with Saleem and his development. One of the things I felt was odd was that Shiva and to some extent Parvati are supposed to be quite powerful, but their powers seemed less unusual than some of the others. Shiva was able to kill with his knees (yes, I know, odd) and was a master warrior/strategist. He was the “bad” to Saleem’s “good” efforts to use his skills to contribute something positive to the world. But, this just didn’t come across to me as some sort of special power. Similarly, Parvati’s gift of magic and witchcraft seemed to be odd as well because it didn’t seem inherent/organic – she would have to learn it. In fact, all three of these main characters had powers that required “learning” to use effectively, as compared to some of the other children whose powers seemed to be more of an innate ability that they may need to learn to control (e.g., flying).
The third storyline, on India and its neighbors, was interesting and Rushdie did a good job of working in all these different countries and cultures and religions that met at this time and place. I think I would have enjoyed it more had I known more of the history beforehand, though that would have been an undertaking given the complexity of the players. He also did a good job of drawing parallels with the other storylines, particularly Saleem’s ups and downs, and his changing loyalties as he moves between countries, etc.
The portrayal of women in the book was interesting, as they played an important role in the development of Saleem and the other stories. I wouldn’t call this a modern picture of women, in India or elsewhere – there are a lot of stereotypes – but I think it works for the book’s setting. This is not a 21st century look at women; published in 1981, it is a book that spans from 1947 to 1978, with descriptions of 3 generations prior to 1947. These characters (male and female) are recognizable in some form and with some tweaking – even in my Irish/German Catholic family. The book had a bit of a slow and cumbersome start but picked up pace along the way. Having read a few books from or about India over the past couple of years, it was nice to get this perspective as well.
