I have long been a fan of historical fiction. When well-composed, the fictional elements exist simply as a conduit through which one explores actual history. The fiction does not intrude upon the reality because—when well-done, I offer again—it “captures the spirit” of that history.
I have recently become aware of a literary genre that has some similar qualities although it is a bit embarrassing that it took this long.
While speaking with a good friend and fellow-bibliophile, I commented upon a new book I had come across—The Life Impossible (2024) by Matt Haig—and attempted to describe its plot and setting; and that it included just a bit of what I could best describe as fantasy. I added that I have never been a fan of fantasy but this one had piqued my interest. I added that I had previously enjoyed an earlier book by Haig—The Midnight Library (2020) —and told her that this, too, included a bit of fantasy; and that I had enjoyed reading and writing about this one as well.
She told me with a kindness my ignorance did not deserve that what I was talking about is magical realism. (What she might have said is, “You write a column called Books & Such, right?)
As to my close-minded attitude towards fantasy, for as long as I can remember, when the random book I pulled off the shelf seemed to get a little out of this world, I tended to slide it back into place and move on down the stacks. For some reason, I was never really interested in what many readers might consider essential literature like The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien and The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis.
As it turns out, thanks to Matt Haig, it appears that I can enjoy a bit of the supernatural or imaginary so long as the underlying story is grounded in the real world.
So, now as I see it, while fantasy is often set within entirely imaginary worlds populated by entirely imaginary characters, magical realism is often set within very recognizable human situations. And in Matt Haig’s case, he encourages the reader to open up to the possibility to wonder whether the fantasy element of the story is perhaps just another bit of reality that we have yet to comprehend. I like that, especially in an age when a divided people often speak with the unwarranted convictions of their beliefs. In other words, approaching Mat Haig’s magical realism with an open mind and a bit of humility is a lesson in character building; a reminder perhaps that we should approach other areas of our lives with the same spirit.
Without realizing it, or at least being able to put a label to it, I discovered that I had enjoyed some magical realism before; The Water Dancer by Ta-Nehisi Coats. At the time, I viewed this one as historical fiction written by an author I admired. I wasn’t wrong as this one is seen as both magical realism and historical fiction. The history is the Underground Railroad of the antebellum South. The fictions are the individual characters and general setting that portray reliably plausible people, places, and events of those who have actually lived these experiences. And the “magic” is a character that “has a near-photographic memory” and “superhuman ability to transport himself and others across vast distances…” This is a story of slavery but also of the power of our memories and the universal human desire to be free.*
Historical fiction gives us the opportunity to explore the past more rigorously and personally even though there may be only a limited amount of historical source material with which to work. Readers are simply asked to accept the plausibility of the fictional elements.
Magical realism, on the other hand, seems to ask us to open our minds, not to the plausible, but to the possible. This is what Matt Haig’s work seems to do anyway. To drive home his point, he reminds us that there are many instances in human history when our understanding of the world around us underwent a radical transformation.
Perhaps the most dramatic example of this is that it took us a very long time to shake the “fact” that the earth was at the center of the universe. For thousands of years, all the available evidence confirmed that this was so. That sun just kept going round and round. What we failed to understand is the simple fact that the earth itself is spinning upon an axis; and this knowledge came about after examining the heavens with an open mind.
This is what Matt Haig would have us do with his stories; although doing this is a bit harder than you might think. After all, in the seventeenth century, asking folks to examine the heavens with an open mind rubbed a lot of other folks the wrong way… the Catholic Church, for instance. As it turns out, much of Catholic dogma was built upon an earth-centered universe, so accepting this new scientific knowledge raised questions about some of the other stuff they were putting forth.
This church versus science thing has been with us a long time. One of the problems, in my view, is that many religious followers have a certainty of knowledge based upon faith. Science, on the other hand, is always open to new information, even that which may contradict what is already “known.” They even have a word for it. Fallibilism accepts that no knowledge can be proven with 100 percent absolute certainty. This, I know, opens the door to a whole slew of problems.
After pondering this one for a while, I was reminded of the Greek philosopher Socrates and his belief that none of us truly know anything; that the only true thing to be known is the knowledge of our own ignorance. This is no simple idea to digest; and spending too much time with it might cause a bit of distress. And, now that I write that, I think this is why so many people are attracted to religion; it relieves a lot of the pressure of being human.
With all these deliciously confusing thoughts in mind, I return to Matt Haig’s magical realism; and I did my best to do so with an open mind even though I peppered the endeavor, as is my tendency in all things, with a healthy dose of skepticism. Even when the skepticism won out, I had great fun with four of Haig’s many novels.
In The Dead Fathers Club (2006) Haig asks us to consider the possibility that those who are murdered have an after-life opportunity to seek revenge. The story begins shortly after putting a freshly departed father into the ground. The narrator is the deceased man’s eleven-year-old son who says, “I think most of them were happy that the pub was open and they were talking louder than at the funeral because funerals make voices quiet and beer makes voices loud…” I enjoyed this one even as the ghost of the dead father and his equally dead mates played important roles.
In The Radleys (2010), Haig builds on the long presence of vampires within our literature. Like some recent interpretations, many of the vampires that occupy these pages are kind and loving while experiencing many of the same emotions as “regular” humans. The blood in this one serves as a drug that invigorates the mind and body. Of course, the blood must come from somewhere. Because of the nasty business of acquiring it, a family of vampires goes without in order to fit in, although they are often miserable as a result; sensitive to sunlight, lethargic, and prone to illness.
One need not believe in vampires to question what it means to live our true nature. For instance, if the vampire is born a predator, is it not natural to predate? In this case, the family is going against its natural impulses for the sake of their neighbors which begs the question, what natural impulses do we resist for the sake of our neighbors? It occurs to me now that this is the type of thinking, if said out loud anyway, that can get one into some trouble.**
Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library (2020) considers the individual choices we make and the path they set us upon. In the titular library, a reader can select among thousands of books that represent a different life path. As I wrote about this wonderful book in 2022: Of course, anyone who dares select a book off the shelf is inevitably remorseful or regretful and makes the selection to correct the shortcoming. The dizzying array of consequences makes this one a delightful reflection on the ups and downs of a human life; and eventually, learning to manage the hand we’re dealt with grace.***
Most recently, in The Life Impossible (2024), Matt Haig’s protagonist Grace arrives on an island with some supernatural surprises. In a mysterious letter, Grace is told that “[p]eople will tell you that it is a magical island. And you will hear some strange tales and myths too. Not all of them will be true. But there is more to life than we know. And there is more to our minds than we realise [sic].” As the initially reluctant and skeptical Grace opens up to the new reality being revealed, she seems to teach herself that “[n]ot everything has to make sense.”
For those of us who daily struggle to “make sense” of our own chaotic world—and I thank Matt Haig for this—I am relieved to consider that this seemingly futile effort might not matter as much as I once thought.
*Google AI Overview, just for kicks
**I have discovered that this is classic Haig misanthropy. In a small volume dictionary of humanity as a guide for aliens visiting earth—Humans… an A to Z: Make the Most of Your Time on Earth (2014)—Haig defines civilization as “the result of humans grouping together and suppressing their instincts.” This largely misanthropic autopsy of the human species is hilarious.
***https://topanganewtimes.com/2022/12/02/the-gift-of-reading-iii/
