The Magical Realism of the Tomcat Murr

In reading the introduction to The Life and Opinions of the Tomcat Murr, by E.T.A. Hoffman, I was very excited to discover that it considered to be magical realism.  I have to admit, I'm not that well-read in the genre, but what I have read and seen I've enjoyed immensely, especially the famous Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel, which also made for a brilliant and beautiful film.  A very common style for Latin American authors, Like Water for Chocolate, or Como agua para chocolate, is like the poster child for magical realism in my mind.

There has been much debate over the category of magical realism, because many critics will overuse the term to give a work of fantasy fiction or science fiction more credibility, when really magical realism is really a very specific genre.  The authors are not creating a different world, rather illuminating the seemingly magical elements that exist in our world.  It is not escapism, but "serious ficiton" seeking and exploring truth.  At this point, I can't help myself from inserting a rather large excerpt from an article by a credible source on this matter:

"Science fiction and fantasy are always speculative. They are always positing that some aspect of objective reality were different. What if vampires were real? What if we could travel faster than light?

Magical realism is not speculative and does not conduct thought experiments. Instead, it tells its stories from the perspective of people who live in our world and experience a different reality from the one we call objective. If there is a ghost in a story of magical realism, the ghost is not a fantasy element but a manifestation of the reality of people who believe in and have "real" experiences of ghosts. Magical realist fiction depicts the real world of people whose reality is different from ours. It's not a thought experiment. It's not speculation. Magical realism endeavors to show us the world through other eyes. When it works, as I think it does very well in, say, Leslie Marmon Silko's novel Ceremony, some readers will inhabit this other reality so thoroughly that the "unreal" elements of the story, such as witches, will seem frighteningly real long after the book is finished. A fantasy about southwestern Indian witches allows you to put down the book with perhaps a little shiver but reassurance that what you just read is made up. Magical realism leaves you with the understanding that this world of witches is one that people really live in and the feeling that maybe this view is correct."

(From: "What is Magical Realism, Really," by Bruce Holland Rogers - http://www.writing-world.com/sf/realism.shtml)

For all of these reasons, the Tomcat Murr is the most believable, well educated Tomcat anyone has ever met.  Suppose Ponto had never exposed him to the professor, and no one ever found out of his ability to read and write otherwise.  Then the magical nature of his abilities would be in an isolated circumstance - in the middle of the night hiding all evidence from the master Abraham.  Then it would be solely from the perspective of the Tomcat, which could be a creative angle to take in regular fiction.  But the Tomcat does get found out and some of them believe is true that the Tomcat is indeed educating himself.  I think that's part of what pushes it into magical realism because the people believe it, enough for the professor to go so far as to get jealous and compare his knowledge and intelligence to that of a cat.  This whole book is magical realism of the truest sense, which is a hard thing to pull off.  In terms of context, how did Hoffman do it?  He created a context so consistent, so believable that he his "gentle readers" racing through the princess sections to get back to the Murr sections.

To create the fantastic character of the Tomcat Murr, Hoffman used a mixture of rich details involving the real, the believed, the implied and the imagined nature of a pompous cat.  And what do we know?  We're just humans.  We feed and shelter them and talk to them in English, but they don't talk back in English, so we know very little facts about their feelings and what goes on in their secret societies.  What we know definitively is sort of a mute point, but a good starting place for character development.  The Tomcat Murr and his comrades do some very ordinary cat-like things that could be easily observed in normal reality, but having the cat narrator from his perspective so seemingly accurate is what is magical.

I love the scenes with Murr and master Abraham together where Murr has got beat up in the real world and has come down from his place of high and mighty, accepting the love and comfort of his master.  Like after he got in the "duel" with the Tabby that stole his Kitty away, he comes home all bloody and broken and master Abraham finds him on the straw matt outside and brings him in to fix up his wounds.  When he's done, he says, "keep quiet now, and when it's time for you to lick your wounded paw better you'll get the plaster off yourself.  As for your injured ear, though, there's nothing you can do about that, my poor friend; you'll just have to put up with the plaster."  And Murr, "I promised my master I would, offering him my sound paw in token of my satisfaction and my gratitude for his aid.  As usual, he took it and shook it slightly without applying the least pressure.  My master knew how to associate with cats of culture and education!"  I love it!

My favorite parts are the times when he learns a new lesson from the real world that he couldn't learn from being a bookworm, no matter how diligant a student.  He starts his education a pretentious poet, seeking enlightenment.  It's so cute how he starts writing love poems by imitation, not coming close to his direct experience.  It's not until quite a bit later that he falls in love for the first time with Kitty, and she breaks his heart, he becomes the jealous boyfriend, etc.  The mixture of clique expressions with Hoffman invented ones that add to the believability of the context.  Like following the fraternity party, when Murr is feeling hung-over and overtired, Muzius is trying to get him out of the house saying don't let your master get a chance to tell you that you look like something 'the cat brought in," or who used you as a cat's paw, and the Hoffmanism must be: "the hair of the dog," which Murr finds out to be soused herring.  

The notion of "book smarts" vs. "street smarts" has always been a point of wonderment for me.  It almost correlates to enlightenment vs. romanticism, but there is so much overlap, it's hard to make definite boundaries, and there is, of course always a balance.  In this story, they seem to intertwine and then reverse roles.  Murr starts on the path of isolated enlightenment, then with the help of his friend Muzius warning him not to fall into the lazy role of the Philistine cat, seeks a more experience-based path.  And for Kreisler, the opposite.  He ends up in a monastery!  Ah, the irony of it all!