Isabel Allende and Other Stories

I was a very big fan of Isabel Allende all through high school and parts of college. The House of the Spirits was one of the first novels that I fell in love with the discourse of literature and is probably why I am a Literature major today. Her stories have always had elements of sadness, hilarity, and sensuality rolled into a living entity. . . there has always been something organic in the way she writes her stories.

Last night, Isabel Allende spoke in Madison about her inspirations, her sadness, and her dreams. She has been criticized for not being a true magical realist because her images do not jar or jolt the reader in the same way works by Marquez would. However, her style of magical realism is so deeply enmeshed, so interwoven into who she is, that I can't possibly imagine seeing her as anything but a magical realist (or what I used to think of as metaphor taking on a life of its own). This became more evident in her personal lecture and how her dreams both influence and foretell the things yet to come.

She mentioned how her novels, and the process of novel writing, appear in her dreams as babies. Sometimes they cry with a grown man's voice; other times, they are lost and constantly searching for a way out. As a storyteller and novelist, it then becomes her job to translate these messages and resolve to bear her baby to the world.

Like her novels, her lecture intimately touched the audience in many ways. You could see the tears glistening in the eyes of every person in the room as Allende told her daughter's story. And you could here the roar of laughter when Allende described the meal she wanted to make of Antonio Banderas (naked). More importantly, you could sense determination come from the audience when she addressed political concerns; these concerns of which are entangled in her personal world as much as her public one.

Allende's lecture became for me an intellectual and emotional roller coaster -- one with twists, turns, flips, and an occasional startling pause before a large crescendo of glee.