A novel with a ‘touch of magical realism’
Posted: Thursday, October 30, 2014
11:59 pm
Lisa Crafton/For the Times-Georgian
THE
BOOK: “The Emerald Amulet”
THE AUTHOR: J.P. Cunningham
In “The Emerald Amulet,” a novel of
mystery in South America, Carroll County author J.P. Cunningham centers upon
the experiences of Eduardo, whose mother is a servant to a wealthy gemstone
mine owner. Foregrounding the issues of class that factor heavily, the first
pages introduce the relationship between the rich white man’s son and the
Colombian son of the family maid. Childhood playmates Eduardo (a mestizo with
both Colombian and English blood) and Sean (“a blonde and blue-eyed,
pale-skinned boy”) bridge a significant cultural divide. The novel relies on a
familiar literary trope of adolescent bonding, a journey to a forbidden site.
The trajectory of the plot follows Eduardo into adulthood, but the boyhood
experience in the cave remains most formative.
Cunningham says of the genesis of
the central image of the cave: “Taking off on an overnight flight to South
America years ago, I finished my reading of Steinbeck’s ‘The Pearl,’ realizing
what a beautiful job he’d done with that brief novel conveying a profound
message in simple language. During that flight, I developed an image in my mind
of a cave in dense forest in South America, and a boy or young man. That image
never left me until I sat down and began a novel with a touch of magical
realism: ‘The Emerald Amulet.’”
More than a touch, I’d say.
Reminiscent of the work of Isabel Allende, this novel’s magical elements (which
do originate in a cave, to be sure) permeate the broader thematics of the
narrative — the power of dreams, the meaning of miracles, the intersection of
faith and doubt all within a powerful exploration of the complex nature of
identity.
The opening chapter offers an
otherworldly, quite multivalent scene that firmly identifies the novel’s genre
of magic realism. Coming upon a witch figure, “white-haired and shriveled,”
complete with a bubbling cauldron and a wildcat in a cage, the boys find that
this “reality” far exceeds the boyish, imagined dangers they concocted along the
path to the cave. The fairy tale elements of the old woman and the gift of the
titular emerald amulet challenge the boys (and the reader) to make sense of
this dream world, to confront assumptions about miracles, dreams, and reality.
The scene, importantly, though, serves the larger thematic narrative paradigm
as well. When the old woman says that the amulet has had power to protect the
owner for centuries, and tells the boys, “It is yours,” Eduardo understandably
responds, “For which of us? We are two separate boys, not one,” thus
underscoring the issue of identity that structures the narrative’s trajectory.
The South American setting,
particularly Edwin O’Connor’s mines where precious gems emerge from the
Colombian mountains, serves as more than a backdrop to the action. In the boys’
first expedition, for example, the path the boys follow to the abandoned mine
is covered with dense canopy, but the narrator says of the undergrowth, “too
thick to penetrate in ages past, [it] had long since been cleared away,” a
nuanced reference to the ways in which the past haunts the present of the lives
of the characters, despite their avoidance of it, and in a larger context, the
ways in which the history of South America requires a confrontation between the
powers of the conquerors and the indigenous Motilone natives, in sum, the
“unjust control over lives that wealth and power wield[s] in the world.” After
a tragic accident involving the white boy, Eduardo becomes torn between the
propositions of his wealthy patron and his mother. Offering divergent choices
of lifestyle, one, a life at university which Eduardo has dreamed of, and the
other, an apprenticeship with an expert gem cutter that Eduardo’s mother wants
for him, these different paths become the heart of the narrative as Eduardo
weighs the advantages of both and, significantly, evaluates the meaning of
“wealth” and “value.”
Will he follow in the footsteps of
his white patron, taking over the business of mining and selling gems, or
cultivate the craft of working the gemstones while living a local life close to
the only family he has? And how will he be influenced by the tribal legends of
the devil in the mine and the powerful magic he has gained from his gift?
Within this complexity, Cunningham interrogates the very nature of what it
means to dream and the raw potential of imagining a better, a different, life
for oneself than the one traditional culture may offer. Further, it allows for
an exploration of what happens when one’s rational understanding of the world, or
even one’s orthodox religious beliefs, are challenged by mysteries that cannot
be explained.
Alongside these cosmic mysteries are
the little mysteries of real life that stem from hard work and caring and love.
When confronted with financial setbacks, for example, it is Eduardo’s good
reputation as a student that prompts the college administration’s assistance.
And, the master gem cutter Alberto’s “lesson” to Eduardo about emerald cutting
functions as a disquisition about human life and values: “There are four ‘C’s’
to consider when thinking about emeralds: color, clarity, cut, and carat ...
people in the city and even farther away think mainly of the carat or the
weight of the stone. They think that is what determines the value of the gem.
... At least as important is the natural character of the stone.” The
definition of success is further debated as the gem cutter’s niece, who becomes
Eduardo’s wife, says about the white patron Edwin: “You said he’s very
successful. And yet he lives alone, for decades with no wife, no children. How
is he successful?”
Structuring the narrative are three
gifts and three trips to the cave. The boys receive the magical emerald amulet,
Eduardo accepts a gold pocket watch from his patron, and his mother gives him a
money clip with an inset emerald that belonged to his father (which keys the
reader in on the mystery of the boy’s identity in the story’s plot twist of
paternity). All of the gifts function as emblems of different life choices, as
do the trips to the cave. While the boys visit the cave twice, most interesting
thematically is the scene in which the grown Eduardo returns to the cave and
asks the old woman, “Who are you?” Clearly highlighting the necessity of
unraveling the layers of identity, she responds, “The better question would be
who are you?”
Ultimately, the magic of the amulet
is less important than its lesson of the complexity of moral choices, “[the
amulet’s] potential for good” and “the impossible choices required in the use
of it.” At the end Eduardo asserts, “I only know that it’s real. I don’t have
to understand it.” Cunningham’s novel then offers the reader a well-plotted
tale of mystery and identity set within a rich cultural context that,
nevertheless, compels us to consider our own sense of miracles, faith and
character.
Crafton is a professor of English at
the University of West Georgia.
