Originating in Latin American literature, magical realism has become a beloved genre globally, favored for its unique blending of the ordinary and the fantastical.
Unlike traditional fantasy genres, magical realism does not create a new world, but rather makes the extraordinary a natural part of the everyday world. The genre often deals with complex themes of political unrest, social inequality, or cultural identity, using elements of magic to illuminate these realities in new ways.
Its uncanny style forces readers to question their assumptions about reality, often shining a light on the perspectives of those living on the margins of society.
‘A Rhyme for Halloween’ by Maurice Kilwein Guevara captures the macabre side of the fun Halloween holiday.
Tonight I light the candles of my eyes in the lee
And swing down this branch full of red leaves.
Yellow moon, skull and spine of the hare,
Arrow me to town on the neck of the air.
‘Giuseppe’ explores the grim tale of a mermaid’s murder in WWII Sicily, highlighting the dark side of human survival instincts.
‘Eating Poetry’ by Strand depicts the transformative joy of consuming art, turning a man into a dog in a surreal narrative.
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
‘Latin & Soul’ by Victor Hernández Cruz conveys the power of music sublimely affecting a group of dancers.
some waves
a wave of now
a trombone speaking to you
a piano is trying to break a molecule
‘Europe: A Prophecy’ invites readers to explore imagination, question reality, and embrace the unseen magic that shapes our everyday lives.
Five windows light the cavern'd Man; thro' one he breathes the air;
Thro' one, hears music of the spheres; thro' one, the eternal vine
Flourishes, that he may recieve the grapes; thro' one can look.
And see small portions of the eternal world that ever groweth;
‘The Keeper’ explores the emotional weight of secrets, blending surreal imagery and inner struggle to depict betrayal, longing, and the fragility of truth.
Nowadays there are too many things to hide.
I am a keeper. Secrets are my caged animals.
I feed them things. Things they will like.
Each day, a ritual; I keep time, though
‘Crow Sickened’ is a brilliant example of Hughes’ playful style, in which Crow attempts to work out the cause of his misery.
His illness was something could not vomit him up.
Unwinding the world like a ball of wool
Found the last end tied round his own finger.