My mother believes in ghosts. This is not a bad thing. She believes that the spirits of relatives gone are still with us, watch over us, take care of us. She believes in the power of prayer and holy water.
I do not believe in these things, and in a way, I am diminished.
“House of Spirits” by Isabell Allende, “100 Years of Solitude” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and other Latin American writers have stories infused with spirits, of super humanly beautiful beings, of impossible scents and the imposition over the ordinary with the supernatural. This “Magical Realism” isn’t magic to one whose daily life is infused with belief.
Is it possible to infuse a place with magic? To make one believe? Magical Realism as a genre is serious. It is not fantasy. It is fantastic. These are not light words.
Is it possible to imbue someone with a feeling of agency? of power over their surroundings? To make the ordinary extraordinary?
Conceptually, it would be lovely to give one a lens that allows them to see the world differently, to see the eddies of power and stuff of manipulation – to make magic.