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Literature Review 3

Abby Bell

Dr. Nachtwey

ENG 346

22 November 2024

Magical Realism and Symbolism

            Haruki Murakami’s “TV People” is a magical realism short story delving into themes of societal isolation and reality detachment. Murakami utilizes elements of magical realism to effectively explore our nameless narrator’s fall into further obsession with the TV people and the ultimate detachment at the end of the story. Magical realism can be defined as placing magical elements in an otherwise realistic setting, making the TV people the magic found in the story. “TV People” begins with the narrator lamenting about Sunday evenings, as he always has a headache and starts hearing strange noises, and then walk in the trio of TV people. The narrator describes them as smaller humans carrying in a TV. They set it on the narrator’s mantle, moving a clock and the narrator’s wife’s stack of magazines to make room. The narrator goes on to continue thinking about the TV people, how they do not talk, how uniform and similar they act and move, and how they leave the TV with the narrator with not a single word. The narrator fears his wife will ask about the TV, but she does not notice. Various scenes indicating the narrator’s removal from reality move the story forward, showing the narrator’s lack of attention to his wife, his job, and a struggle to interact with hobbies the narrator used to do before the TV people. The final few scenes of the story bring the TV people to the narrator’s home, showing him an alleged airplane they’re building. The narrator notes that it does not appear to be an airplane, but after spending more time with the TV people, he begins to accept that the object is an airplane. The story concludes with the narrator shrinking and turning into a TV person himself, falling into the TV screen.

            The TV people stand as the most obvious magical element of Murakami’s story, acting as the catalyst for the narrator’s acceptance of being detached from reality, and expanding on this idea of the narrator’s life being driven by others. When the TV people first arrive in the story, the narrator is laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. While subtle, this is the catalyst of both the narrator’s acceptance of his own detachment, and the first instance in which the readers see how the narrator’s life is defined by others. The TV people bring in the TV, and despite the narrator noting that “They don’t knock or ring the doorbell. Don’t even say hello. They just sneak right in. I don’t even hear a footstep… The door was locked, I think, but I can’t be certain”, he allows the TV people to enter and set up the TV in his home (Murakami, 487). This notion of detachment is furthered, when the narrator is mulling over his choice to just allow the TV people entrance into his life, saying “But for whatever reason, I don’t speak up, I simply observe the proceedings. Because they ignore me so totally. And if you were in my position, I imagine you’d do the same. Not to excuse myself, but you have people right in front of you denying your very presence like that, then see if you don’t doubt whether you exist or not” (Murakami, 489). The narrator is explicitly expressing his feelings of being removed from reality, and the sensation of feeling unreal, in the face of the TV people.

            Murakami integrates other facets of the TV people and the narrator’s interaction with the real world to further this sense of detachment and lack of choice. The narrator and his wife’s relationship is referenced throughout the story, always in a manner indicating they are not close. For instance, once the wife returns home after the TV people have left the TV, the narrator notes that his wife doesn’t notice the TV, and instead, the narrator engages in an otherwise normal conversation about his wife’s day. Notably, this conversation is summarized in the story, removing both the narrator and the reader from any dialogue present during that conversation, adding additional layers to this detachment that narrator is facing in his daily life. The lack of choice, or idea that the narrator’s life is not driven by him is furthered here, too. As the reader recalls from the beginning of the story, the wife told the narrator to prepare his own dinner. Upon her arrival back home, she find he didn’t and makes him dinner instead. While a small detail, Murakami cements this overwhelming feeling of being socially isolated and not in control throughout every scene and minute detail.

            While the narrator’s lack of attention or care to his personal life is prevalent in the story, Murakami also featured scenes of the narrator at work, interacting with his surroundings in a very similar way. The TV people show up at his workplace, and similar to the wife, nobody other than the narrator seems to be able to see them. The narrator, detached from his coworkers due to the presence of the TV people, only experiences further isolating experiences at his job. The narrator notes after a managerial figure comments on his participation in their meeting, “I mean, I don’t remember a thing of what I said at the meeting. Why does the section chief have to come all the way over to my desk to praise me for that?” (Murakami, 492). The narrator is so removed from reality, either because of the TV people, or because that is the way he is, he doesn’t even recall the things he says in work meetings. It is an important detail that the TV people have prompted all of the instances in which the narrator feels most removed, indicating their presence is pushing for the narrator’s acceptance of this ultimate isolation from society and reality.

            Murakami effectively integrated magical elements, such as the TV people, to explore into realistic topics such as social isolation and reality detachment. The narrator of the story follows a path many might feel in real life, only furthered and pushed by a magical element, highlighting the themes Murakami included in his story “TV People”.

Murakami, Haruki. “TV People.” The Big Book of Modern Fantasy, New York, New York, 2020,

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Literature Review 2

Abby Bell

Dr. Nachtwey

ENG 346

25 October 2024

Who Walks Away from Omelas?

            Ursula K. LeGuin’s story “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” is a philosophical fantasy set in the utopian community of Omelas. This story is rich with social commentary on contemporary society and the implications of living in a perfect and joyous community. LeGuin uses storytelling to not only comment on and implicate the people of Omelas, but also the reader. The narrator begins by leading the reader through Omelas during their Festival of Summer. A musical dance procession makes their way through town, naked children are seen preparing for horse races, and the sweet air is filled with the sound of bells. The narrator emphasizes that while the people don’t use modern technology, as they don’t think it would promote happiness, the people are not simple or bland. With a lack of any sort of hierarchy, or leading figures, like a king, a clergy, or an army, the people of Omelas have found true happiness. The narrator goes on to admit that they are not sure about all the conventions and rules of Omelas and encourages the reader to fill in the blanks with whatever seems the most joyous. Things like orgies, drugs, and alcohol are mentioned as additional means to not only prove that Omelas is full of joy, but also that it is not overly puritanical, or guilt driven. A stark contrast appears halfway through the story, as the narrator then leads the reader to an underground cellar containing a lone abused and neglected child. The narrator explains that this is the price for the overall happiness and wellbeing of Omelas. The people of Omelas are all aware of this situation, some choosing to ignore, some taking time to process, and some who cannot deal with the sacrifice, who become those who walk away.

            The first implication of living in a utopian society like Omelas is delved into with the lack of any authoritative figure. The narrator notes that “there is no king… it would be better to not have any temples in Omelas – at least, not manned temples. Religion yes, clergy no… as we did without clergy, let us do without soldiers” (229-230). With the absence of any sort of figurehead, LeGuin places the blame for the sacrificed child directly onto the individual members of Omelas. As everyone is aware of the abuse and neglect that goes on in the underground cellar, there is no way to take part in the joy of Omelas and not be responsible for the abused child. It is notable that the lack of an authoritative hierarchy is only cited in the story as an aspect of the wonderful nature of Omelas, and not as an implication device to place blame on the residents. The community lacks these figureheads because they believe violence and pain to be uninteresting, saying “The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain” (229). The shifted focus of pain and violence as something uninteresting and boring only works to highlight the ignorance of the sacrifice that must happen to ensure the happiness of the many, while painting it as something the people of Omelas are morally above.

            LeGuin utilizes an interactive narrator to not only explain and reveal Omelas to the reader, but also to implicate them in the sacrifice of the child in the cellar. Throughout the story, the narrator mentions how certain conventions of Omelas exist because the narrator believes it would make Omelas a happier place. These conventions are presented as a means to convince the reader that Omelas is truly full of joy. When technology is mentioned the narrator notes “I cannot suit you all. For instance, how about technology? I think that there would be no cars or helicopters in and above the streets; this follows from the fact that the people of Omelas are happy people” (229). Later in the story, the narrator tells the reader “I fear that Omelas so far strikes some of you as goody-goody… If so, please add an orgy. If an orgy would help, don’t hesitate” (229). By this point, both the narrator and the reader have also taken part in creating and benefitting from the joy of Omelas or have benefitted from the abuse of the sacrificial child. I find this convention of storytelling notable as LeGuin is commenting on contemporary society that we as readers take part in. Within the story, the narrator and the reader, both removed figures from Omelas itself, have also been condemned to the responsibility and guilt of perpetuating the abuse against the child.

            LeGuin’s unique narration and storytelling style worked very effectively for conveying the social commentary present in the story. With both a lack of a scapegoat for the people of Omelas and integrating the narrator and the reader into the taking part of Omelas, LeGuin has made it nearly impossible for the reader to escape facing the real-world consequences of our society. The Western world undoubtedly benefits from the abuse and misfortune of people out of view, with the knowledge and acceptance that this is how our society functions, very similarly to the people of Omelas. With the moral question present of does the suffering of the few outweigh the suffering of the many, LeGuin leaves the reader to ponder what we would do in a similar position. From the understanding that Omelas does not have someone in power to blame for the suffering of the child and that we as readers took part in the creation of this “joyous” community, we become those who walk away from Omelas.

LeGuin, Ursula K. “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas.” The Big Book of Modern Fantasy, New York, New York, 2020, pp. 228-232.

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Literature Review 1

Abby Bell

ENG 346

Dr. Nachtwey

09/20/24

The Hidden Fairy of “La Peau Verte”

            Cailin Kiernan’s “La Peau Verte” is a fantastical dark fantasy short story featuring a struggling artist in New York City, Hannah. This story is not told in chronological order, jumping around from the present and various past experiences Hannah has had. The main focus of the story is the mysterious death of Hannah’s sister, Judith, which happened when she was 12 years old. Hannah’s sister had found stones etched with various words, like “follow” “fall” and a wrong spelling of her own name “JVDTH”, around their family’s property. These stones led Judith to find a dead fairy-like creature that she captured in a jar. After showing Hannah the fairy, Judith fell into an old, abandoned well. Her body was never recovered. This experience drives Hannah and the story, leading Hannah to move to New York City to pursue her arts. This is where she meets her friend, a flamboyant and extravagant gay man, Peter, and Hannah’s therapist, Edith Valloton. Both Peter and Dr. Valloton push Hannah to confront this situation in different ways, Peter pushing her to attend fancy parties as a posed model, and Dr. Valloton with her intense therapy services. The story concludes with Hannah attending a party Peter urged her to, where she was undressed, painted green, and decorated in a woodland fashion, where she was ultimately captured by fairies.

            “La Peau Verte” contains more fairies than those explicitly described as fairies, however.

Kiernan includes many nods and references that point to the idea that Peter is also a fairy. While it is never explicitly revealed whether Peter is a fairy or not, the question sits in the back of the reader’s mind, furthering the sense of hesitation in the story. The reader’s first introduction to Peter beings with him and Hannah playing chess together. He is described as 30 years older than Hannah, forming an interesting relationship between the two. Some notable character traits asserted about Peter are shown in this scene. First, the reader can gather that Peter enjoys toying with Hannah throughout the chess match, skirting around winning plays to further the game, “delaying the inevitable”, Hannah claims (742). Later in this scene, the reader gets the first mention of the mysterious party we first see Hannah attending. Peter tells her of this party held by a mostly unknown man, Monsieur Ordinaire, and his need for a posed model. He urges her to accept the invitation for the job and go to the party.  This is an important detail, because as the reader comes to find out, Monsieur Ordinaire is the fairy who captures Hannah at the conclusion of the story. Here is the first time where Peter interacts with this presence of hesitation in Hannah, urging her away from it and towards the fairies. While this does not explicitly point to Peter being a fairy, it is notable that he is the initial connection between Hannah and Monsieur Ordinaire, leading her to her ultimate demise.

            In this same scene, Peter also brings up the discussion of Absinthe, a green alcohol that produces mild hallucinogen effects, with the colloquial name “the green fairy”. Peter himself claims not to enjoy the drink, but does mention it to Hannah, describing the taster to her (743). Later in the story, Hannah acquires absinthe to try and has surreal dreams after ingesting it. In this dream, she is faced with the distorted memory of her sister’s death. In this dream her mother is present, asking about Judith’s whereabouts, and processing the guilt and grief associated with losing Judith to the well. The dream concludes with Hannah seeing Peter, claiming himself to be “the Green Fairy…the color of despair” (748). This point in the story is when the nods to Peter being a fairy are more noticeable and evident. I find it compelling that Peter appears in a dream Hannah has recurringly that typically details her sister’s strange disappearance that seems to have a connection with the dead fairy, the stones, the well, and the lack of a body. The green fairy is also a moniker for absinthe, as stated above, which is the drink Peter brought up to Hannah during their chess match. While absinthe does cause hallucinations, some also believe that a weakened mind is more susceptible to magic and fantastical beings, like fairies. Once again, Petere is interacting with the hesitation present in the story, once again, urging Hannah away from it and towards the fantastical aspects.

            It is worthy to note that “fairy” is a very common homophobic slur for gay men. Around the Stonewall Riot movement in the 1960s, this term started being reclaimed by the LGBTQ+ community, however, becoming a term used by gay men in an affectionate or joking manner. Kiernan included slurs in “La Peau Verte”, noting that Hannah thought Dr. Vallonton, her therapist “might be a dyke” (744). Knowing that Kiernan does not shy away from the use and implication of homophobic slurs, I don’t find it to be a coincidence that Peter is described to be a flamboyant gay man. While the term “fairy” was never utilized in the story as a homophobic slur, I do think Kiernan is aware of the connotations of the word, especially in context of an older gay man, who would have been alive for the popularization of the word within the LGTBQ+ community.

            “La Peau Verte” is a wonderful example of dark fantasy writing, including conventions such as a mysterious death, vivid descriptive language, and a sense of confusion and hesitation permeating the story. Kiernan captured the feeling of sinister, tricky fairy creatures through characters like Monsieur Ordinaire and Peter. Peter being a fairy hidden in plain sight works with the sense of hesitation within Hannah, as he is oftentimes pushing her out of that hesitation to where she falls victim to the fairies. While Peter is never revealed explicitly to be a fairy himself, the evidence of his character points to this conclusion. From this trickster nature with chess, his introducing of absinthe and appearing as the Green Fairy in Hannah’s dreams, and the implications of him being gay, he is certainly described to be a little fantastical as well.

Kiernan, Caitlin R. “La Peau Verte.” The Big Book of Modern Fantasy, Vintage Books, New York, New York, 2020, pp. 740–755.