16.2.17

"The Museum of Extraordinary Things" by Alice Hoffman

With the best intentions of doing otherwise, I must admit that when it comes to reading, there can simply be no strict plan - in the corner of my mind I had this brilliant idea about discovering different genres (SF) or reading a classic-per-month but in reality, there is such a joy in random choices, just like in old days of browsing the public libraries. So either though I had a perfectly clear idea about what I should read, before you know it I found myself browsing the shelves in the library at work (on a first day! someone might say I care more for books than for the job!) and voilà this book jumped at me. Now, I don't care what people say about never judge a book by its cover and the stuff like that, because in my case its just not true. I do react because of something sparkled my interest, be it colours of the book cover, design, picture, sometimes just a title or lettering, but books definitely talk to me as I browse shelves (and hopefully will continue to do so) my whole life. If there are no pictures or colours, than something about this particular cover must intrigue me to pick up the book, even if it turned just an oily fingerprint of the previous owner. So when this book jumped at me, I took it seriously (as always) as a sign, this is the one.


To my biggest surprise, it turned out I actually know the authoress Alice Hoffman though in all honesty I don't really remember anything about her novel "The Probable Future" except that I enjoyed it very much (it was something about several generations of women gifted with special powers) and could actually re-read it again to refresh my memory. She seems to have been known as perfect example of magic realism writer, though if you ask me, I would not know how to explain what it means. Magic? Realism? Gabriel García Márquez and his brilliant "One Hundred Years of Solitude" are apparently also part of that genre, well if that's what magic realism is, I love it.


Its interesting to make a parallel with current obsession with magic powered super heroes and mutants with the world Alice Hoffman decided to portray here: while our modern cinematic mutants effortlessly fight the ordinary mortals, Hoffman's mutants are terribly abused by them. In fact, they might not be mutants at all but some unfortunate souls born with deformities and since this is 1911, the only place they can earn money are circuses and freak shows, kind of like the Elephant Man. The museum from the title is nothing more than another exhibition of "wonders" that attracts thrill-seeking customers. Here is where we encounter two main protagonists and although the world around them screams "magic!" we understand this is just a glitzy papier mâché, there is no magic, just human greed, poverty and cruelty. As the novel progresses, we also understand that one and true magic in all this horrible life can in fact be real love. 



Hoffman writes exceptionally beautiful, unforgettable sentences. Every page or two, I would actually stop and savour some of them. There is a housekeeper with a face disfigured by acid, repulsive to the whole world but at certain hours of the day she looked illuminated as the beauty inside her was rising up trough her ravaged complexion. Or the man described as there was sorrow in the seams of his clothes. The city of New York serves as background and its a character in itself as Hoffman describes real life stories, tragedies and locations, including less known details from times when one could still find a real untouched nature relatively close by. For some reason, the main story about two main characters, their lives and eventual love affair was not really main focus of interest for me - strange as it sounds, though Hoffman chose them for main characters, I actually loved almost everything and everybody else better (including circus animals, hundred year old turtle or a lovable dog Mitts - when towards the end, the huge, real-life fire almost devoured half of the city, I told myself if that little dog dies, I will never read Alice Hoffman in my life anymore) - the novel is extremely rich in colourful details and unforgettable characters, though at times I found some of Hoffman's imagery extremely dark, disturbing and unnecessary cruel. Some of her pictures disturbed me for days. 

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