But from the very beginning Rafaela somehow felt this particular orange was special. Perhaps it was her desire to see a thing out of season struggle despite everything and become whole. As time went on, she found herself watching the orange, wandering out to the tree every day even in the rain, feeling great contentment in the transition of its small growing globe, first from green and then to its slow golden burnish.
The novel covers a broad expand of characters during a very constricted time period, kind of like the movie Crash. In fact, a massive traffic jam on the interstate is integral to the story, but that's pretty much where the comparison comes to an end. Even more integral, however, is the orange described here. The novel has been described as an example of Magic Realism because reality is intruded upon by the inexplicable: this orange will be transported across the US/Mexican border by the Arcangel. Believe it or not, that is not necessarily the weirdest aspect.
He said that he had come from a long way away, from the very tip of the Tierra del Fuego, from Isla Negra, from the very top of Macchu Picchu, from the very bottom of the Foz do Iguaçu, but perhaps it was only a long way in his quixotic mind. And yet his voice was often a jumble of unknown dialects, guttural and whining, Latin mixed with every aboriginal, colonial, slave, or immigrant tongue, a great confusion discernible to all and to none at all.
The Arcangel is here described. He is central to the plot though he actually does not appear that much. In fact, this excerpt comes from Chapter Seven. A weird guy, the Arcangel; so purely inspired by the godfather of Magical Realism that he even gets a little cameo here: “Gabriel García Márquez himself came to the opening, drank martinis and tasted ceviche on little toasts in the society of society.” What separates Magical Realism from, say, Harry Potter novels is that the magical happenings are integrated fully into the realistic aspect so that they remain bizarre and worthy of wonder. Nobody blinks twice if a character in Hogwarts turns into talking snake, but in Magical Realism the magic is worthy of gasps.
In a moment a great turbulence had been created. Already, it was being billed as the Greatest Fight of the Century: El Contrato Con América. And the others would also be there, superheroes and supervillains alike: Super-Barrio, La Chingada y El Gran Chingón, Super-Migra, Super-Ilegal, Super-Chicano, SuperGringo, and La Raza Cósmica.
And the crowd, lusting for battle and blood, moved North with its Latin birds and American beers.
Ever catch the movie Nacho Libre? Or just know something about the ridiculously inventive style of wrestling that they do in Mexico? Another example of just how off the wall this novel is—in an attempt to analyze very seriously the very serious issues around immigration, globalization, exploitation, etc.—is that in addition to a traveling orange there is wrestling match between SuperNAFTA and El Gran Mojado. One may not fully understand the broader context of the political and economic subtext here, but that’s okay because an initial reading is worthy simply for the sake of entertainment. This is a wild, wild novel. Probably unlike anything else most people not familiar with Magical Realism will ever have encountered. Over-the-top in construction, however, ultimately the more outlandish and absurd elements come together to a serve a very down-to-earth purpose: enlightenment on issues affecting millions that go completely unrealized by billions.
