Magic and madness: exploring magical realism

Magical realism is one of those impossibly slippery genres; it is difficult to define and changes shape with every work that it categorizes. It has the strange powers and creatures of fantasy, whether it's girls with wings or men with claws, and yet it's grounded in the real and ordinary world of today, which accepts these new developments with varying degrees of grace. The best known incarnation of magical realism is probably the work of Gabriel García Márquez, the brilliant Colombian writer whose “One Hundred Years of Solitude” (1967) traces the Buendia family and the town they establish for a hundred years of life, love and death. “One Hundred Years of Solitude” is one of the defining works of the genre and an immersive, magical reading experience, but with its dense prose and elaborate family tree, it may not be the best place to start. Here are two books that provide a perfect way to ease into the genre.

“The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender” (2014) by Leslye Walton chronicles the history of the Roux family and their doomed love affairs, culminating in the story of the winged Ava Lavender. This book is filled with beautiful prose that has a rhythm all its own, flowing naturally from phrase to phrase until each chapter culminates in a string of dazzling images. There's a bit of a fairytale feel to it, especially as the older Ava introduces her family story in the first few pages of the prologue; yet the characters are undeniably real and flawed -- much more so than the traditional fairytale types. I'm especially fond of the relationships between Ava and her family, from her baker grandmother to her silent twin brother to the good-hearted lodger who silently pines for her mother. The love between these people practically jumps off the page in all its complications, mistakes and triumphs. Ultimately, it's Walton's ability to capture all the different shades of love and longing, along with the promise that love has the power to redeem even as it makes fools, that makes this book so memorable.

“The Probable Future” (2003) by Alice Hoffman follows another family of women, each gifted with a different power. Elinor Sparrow can tell when someone's lying, her daughter Jenny can see people's dreams and her granddaughter Stella can foresee death. Hoffman is a master of setting and atmosphere, so the small New England town where most of “The Probable Future” takes place is depicted in vivid detail. It feels exactly like the kind of town where women would acquire powers on their 13th birthdays, with the kinds of townspeople who wouldn't exactly be sure how they feel about it. The plot elements all slot together into a satisfying puzzle; the relationships between the women are filled with fights and reconciliations aplenty, and Hoffman's prose propels it all forward at an engaging pace. At its best, her work strikes the perfect balance between otherworldly prose and very human problems, which lies at the heart of the appeal of magical realism.