#legends
…a film never allows us to admire a translation of the world, but to admire, through this translation, the world itself.
I may have misunderstood this remark made by the film director Eric Rohmer (you know how it is with French intellectuals), but I don’t see why it can’t apply to a novel or short story. These stories I’ve been posting extracts from are written in a sort of magic realist style, loosely speaking. (I know that academics use the term with a more restrictive meaning.) What I tried to do was convey some of the sense of living in a remote part of the West Highlands of Scotland. It’s a bit weird out here and feels as if, for example, you might meet a selkie while walking by the sea. I could try to convey that sense by writing about somebody moving here from the city and having that feeling. (“Gavin walked by the sea and it seemed to him that this was just the place to meet a being from one of the old folk tales. He could understand how this landscape gave rise to such tales.”) You, the reader, would then be twice removed from the selkie: the story is not your experience, and the protagonist doesn’t experience the encounter, he just thinks about it. Whereas, if I write that a character does meet the selkie, you are only a single step away, just as a person walking on the shore and feeling they might meet her is, so your experience is closer to theirs. (I should probably draw a diagram, but I’m not sure what it would look like.)
I consider this to be ‘magic realism’ because that character is a contemporary person and the magic is an ordinary part of the world, not something that belongs to a separate realm, as it would in a pure fantasy.
That’s my theory, anyway. If I ever manage to finish the book, you might be able to see it in practice.
Tales of Terror - “Chambers of Horror” (1984).
“How do you sleep at night?”
“I don’t. I’m a vampire.”
inanimate giants -::- @earthtowildrose