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55 pages 1 hour read

Salvador Plascencia

The People of Paper

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2005

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Themes

Magical Realism and the Blurring of Fiction and Reality

Plascencia uses magical realism to blur the line between fiction and reality throughout The People of Paper for specific purposes, including to describe the experiences of immigrants confronting a new culture, to undermine social institutions and destabilize their hold on “truth,” and to demonstrate that the boundary between the fictional and the real is not really a boundary at all, but rather a contested and amorphous borderland.

By way of background, magical realism may be thought of as a genre or style of writing in which the world is described realistically but includes magical events treated as everyday occurrences. At the same time, everyday occurrences seem magical to the characters. Thus, in a work like One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez, flying carpets are simply part of reality and easily accepted by the characters, whereas something as commonplace as ice appears magical. In The People of Paper, magical realism surfaces stories of the origami surgeon, the presence of mechanical tortoises, and the sky serving as the boundary between characters and the author, among many other instances. In a magical realist text, fiction and nonfiction intertwine in the storytelling, often revealing what has been previously hidden. Magical realism lays bare paradoxes and challenges traditional understandings of the relationship between reality and fiction.

In The People of Paper, magical elements capture the cultural dislocation that comes with migration across various borders and boundaries—not only the US-Mexico border but also the border between rural and urban modes of living, between traditional and scientific knowledges, and even between the world of fiction and the world in which that fiction is written and read. When Smiley confronts Saturn/Sal, he does so by tearing a hole in the sky—a magical act that allows him to literally cross the border between two worlds: that of fiction, in which the author/narrator exists as a god named Saturn, and that of “reality,” in which the same author/narrator is an ordinary man named Sal. The elevated, almost biblical language Smiley uses here—“I grabbed at the edges of the hole and pulled myself into the house of Saturn” (103)—is appropriate for the act of crossing the boundary between worlds but not for the ordinary, disheveled house he finds on the other side.

Plascencia undermines the authority of social institutions such as the Catholic Church by juxtaposing miraculous and surreal fictional events with officially sanctioned historical events. Thus, the apparitions of the Virgin of Trinidad experienced by Apolonio’s mother seem magical and fantastic, part of a work of fiction. On the other hand, in the “real” world, the Vatican recognizes and sanctions events that seem just as magical. For example, the Catholic Church recognizes the appearance of the Virgin Mary to a group of Portuguese children in Fatima on October 13, 1917, as something that really happened and is worthy of belief. For the Catholic Church, this is a fact, not a fiction. Plascencia exploits this paradox throughout the novel, particularly in the character of Apolonio: “Apolonio knew the magic and alchemy practiced by saints and angels, but he was unsanctioned, illegitimate in the eyes of Rome” (223). Plascencia uses the novel’s unsanctioned magical events to question the power of institutions like the Church to define what is real.

All cultures use available evidence to build their understanding of reality, but they have different ways of defining what counts as evidence, thus leading to different and sometimes incommensurable realities. Little Merced, for example, given her background and experience, believes she has been cut by Saturn when she begins bleeding. Sandra, however, offers a more ordinary explanation rooted in the physiology of the female body. In this case, it seems clear that Sandra’s explanation is the correct one. However, in other instances, the distinction between fiction and reality is much less clear. Cameroon’s depiction as a saint with a halo when she engages in her addiction to honeybee stings suggests both real and magical explanations. In this instance, and in the novel as a whole, the distinctions between orthodoxy and heresy, between the holy and the profane, and between fiction and reality are blurry; magical realism provides the tools for investigating these contested borderlands where competing characters and institutions vie for belief.

The Ethics of Authorship and Narrative Control

Plascencia uses metafiction to call attention to the narrative as a constructed object—inserting himself into the novel as a character who is also its author and even staging a war in which his characters seek to overthrow him and establish autonomy over their own lives.

When Federico de la Fe tells Froggy, “We are part of Saturn’s story. Saturn owns it. We are being listened to and watched, our lives sold as entertainment” (53), he presents the relationship between author and character in Marxian terms, as a form of exploitation. Federico and his comrades must live their lives, including all the suffering that comes with them, while Saturn alone reaps the profit.

When Smiley crawls through the hole in the sky and lands in Saturn’s home, he undergoes a radical reappraisal of his own centrality and of the relationship between author and text. He realizes that he is one of Saturn’s creations just as Saturn is self-admittedly an avatar of Salvador Plascencia, a character whom Plascencia intends to represent himself as. In this way, Plascencia overtly inserts himself into the story, using this avatar to instruct Smiley on the nature of fiction and authorship: “Saturn sat down and explained that there are many characters, plots, and devices, and in the jumble of things, sometimes minor characters are forgotten, even by the author” (105). The author, then, is not an all-powerful, all-seeing god but an ordinary human who creates and uses characters for purposes he may not fully understand and who may misuse them or even forget about them. This information has profound and unsettling implications for Smiley’s understanding of his own existence.

The politics and ethics of authorship, then, become critical questions for The People of Paper. Plascencia uses metafiction to raise questions about the author’s responsibility to the characters and the world they create. In the first place, Plascencia demonstrates through his ongoing use of intertextuality that an author may be nothing other than a mouthpiece for their own culture and history. Intertextuality is the complicated interrelationships between a text and other texts/artifacts in the construction of meaning. In The People of Paper, Plascencia repeatedly connects his novel to biblical stories, the works of other authors such as Gabriel García Márquez and Jorge Luis Borges, folk stories and myths, and icons of popular culture such as Rita Hayworth. He does so to suggest that fiction is never the work of one individual writer, but rather is always a collage created by an author situated in a particular culture at a particular time in history. The author uses bits and pieces of that culture, time, and place to construct the work at hand. This can happen unconsciously with some writers, who attempt to create “realistic” texts. With a metafictional writer such as Plascencia, the collage becomes not only overt and deliberate but also the means with which to interrogate cultural beliefs and practices, such as racism, colonialism, and immigration.

An author’s ethical responsibility also becomes a subject for interrogation through The People of Paper. When Liz argues that Plascencia, posing as Saturn, has sold out his family and friends by telling their stories to make money, she is accusing him of acting unethically. However, since Liz herself is a character in the book, that is, a creation of Plascencia’s, he is using her voice to ask himself important questions about the “commodification of sadness” (53). Likewise, by describing trauma and traumatic self-harm as a technique of self-soothing, he is drawing on other people’s pain for his own purposes while simultaneously questioning the ethics of such usage.

These questions are disturbing and powerful, and Plascencia allows them to nearly overwhelm his novel as they overwhelm Saturn, who loses control of the narration over the course of the book. As Saturn’s story becomes ever more entwined with Plascencia’s life, Saturn as the narrator gets pushed out and shredded. By mid-book, Smiley reveals that Saturn “[is] now blind to the progression of the story” (105) and that “he ha[s] surrendered the story and his power as narrator” (103).

Thus, while Plascencia uses innovative and experimental typography and visual elements in an apparent effort to control the narrative, what he ultimately illustrates is the way narratives in fiction (and reality) can proliferate and undermine themselves, with each character’s telling of the story molding and changing the story itself. An author’s intention to tell one kind of story cannot withstand the violence readers and characters alike can do to that intention. “It was never Saturn’s intention to destroy any of them if only they had not rebelled and just lived their lives without looking up” (46), Plascencia writes. In The People of Paper, Plascencia metafictionally destroys the boundaries dividing the author, characters, and readers.

Cultural Identity and the Immigrant Experience

Immigrants from Mexico arrive in El Monte, California, largely in response to the demand for workers to harvest carnations and roses from huge flower plantations in the area. Plascencia explores cultural identity and the immigrant experience throughout the novel, including details and stories in the text to demonstrate the way that an influx of immigrants maintains their cultural identity while experiencing lives as immigrants in a new culture. He writes,

El monte was one thousand four hundred forty-eight miles north of Las Tortugas […] and while there were no cockfights or wrestling arenas, the curandero’s botanica shops, the menudo stands, and the bell towers of the Catholic churches also pushed north, settling among the flowers and sprinkler systems (34).

Plascencia makes clear that language is an important marker of culture, and the characters of The People of Paper are Spanish speakers. One of the most used Spanish words in the novel is curandero, or folk healer. Curanderos provide much of the health care for the El Monte community, using herbs, prayers, and rituals in healing. Apolonio is such a curandero and plays an important role in the book. Not only does he provide medicinal healing, but he also serves as a kind of spiritual and psychological therapist, providing advice and support to the community. Similarly, foods are a traditional and common culture identifier. In the case of El Monte, Little Merced comments on the menudo stands. Menudo is a popular tripe stew among Mexican immigrants, and Federico de la Fe and Little Merced visit the stands frequently.

The immigrants also bring with them a set of religious beliefs that combine Catholic doctrine with traditional and folk beliefs that challenge the Church’s authority. The immigrant population is largely mestizo, that is, combining indigenous and Spanish heritage, and many of their beliefs originate in indigenous traditions that predate the arrival of Spanish colonists. For this reason, while they are nominally committed to the religion of Rome and the Vatican, throughout The People of Paper, Plascencia indicates the tension between the immigrant beliefs and the bureaucratic Vatican. The people venerate both popular and canonized saints and fully believe in miracles. These beliefs sometimes put them at odds with Rome; Apolonio, for example, loses his shop to Cardinal Mahoney and Vatican soldiers who close it down and charge him with heresy.

The most poignant way that Plascencia illustrates the immigrant experience, however, is through the character of Little Merced. She goes to school with white children who shun her. The poor immigrant children bring their lunches in brown paper bags, while the white children have lunch boxes. Little Merced believes that all that separates her from eating with the white children is the absence of a lunch box. Her father buys her what they believe is a lunch box, but it turns out to be a typewriter case. The children ridicule her, and Little Merced is humiliated and angry with her father. She wants to fit in but is unable to do so. In addition, when she contracts head lice, the teacher treats her without compassion, sending home a mimeographed note with instructions on how to get rid of lice. This also sets her apart from the other children and is an embarrassment for her. Not long after, she leaves school for good to help her father wage war. In the story of Little Merced at school, Plascencia offers the most realistic narrative in the book, one that illustrates in a straightforward way the challenges of dealing with racism, classism, and xenophobia.

Responses to Sadness and Loss

The People of Paper has at its center love, heartbreak, loss, and betrayal. Like many novels in the genre of magical realism, sadness is pervasive. Federico de la Fe, for example, suffers deeply from the loss of his wife, who he believes has left him because he wets the bed every night. This causes him anguish, remorse, and guilt. He discovers, however, some 10 years after she leaves, that the physical pain he feels when he burns himself takes away his sadness. Burning himself becomes addictive, and throughout the book, he engages in self-harm and scarification.

The indigenous tribe of Glue Sniffers have also suffered serious loss of identity and culture. Many of the Glue Sniffers are orphans or have run away from their families. Because they are hungry and poor, they try to escape their sadness and loneliness by sniffing glue, a kind of drug addiction. Federico teaches them about burning. A Glue Sniffer reports, “After the flames faded and the black on my thighs turned to pink, the sadness that I felt was replaced by blisters and pus” (29). Trading one addiction for another seems to be an ineffective and dangerous response to sadness.

Little Merced also has an addictive response to loss and sadness, one she shares with her mother. She sucks on limes. When the white children humiliate her, she says, “I did not cry or walk home with my head down. Instead, I ate my lime, peel and all” (40). Just as Federico and the Glue Sniffers substitute physical pain for emotional pain, Little Merced substitutes the bitterness of the lime peel for the bitterness of her anger. Ultimately, Little Merced’s teeth rot from eating limes, and she dies of a lime overdose.

The only character who does not become self-destructive in the face of sadness and loss is Froggy. He manages to overcome his sadness by listening to Oaxacan songbirds. For him, music is the cure.

Saturn’s response to sadness and loss goes through stages. When he loses Liz, he is initially filled with remorse, mirroring Federico’s response to losing his wife. His remorse, however, soon turns to blame and fury. He essentially stalks her through the book, refusing to leave her alone. Nonetheless, once he finally learns to control his anger, he does what Liz has asked him to do, removing her from the book. Although he wants Liz to return to him, he also seems reconciled to her happiness in her new life.

Not all the characters are reconciled to sadness, however. Froggy believes, “grounded in an ancient philosophy, that after a certain amount of accumulated mass, sadness ends” (131), citing Saint Nicholas, Don Ho, Winston Churchill, and Sir John Falstaff. Smiley thinks to himself that Froggy is ignoring that all of these characters from history and literature experience great sadness at certain times. He seems to be saying that there is no escape from sadness in life. Smiley nonetheless continues to survive, demonstrating that the only response to sadness and loss is to keep on living.

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