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.