Varieties of The Fantastic in Fiction

I read “A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez as a heartbreaking metaphor for how the world treats good, innocent people badly. Pelayo and Elisenda encounter a filthy, yet harmless, old man by their home and come to the conclusion that he is an angel. They react cruelly by locking him in their chicken coop and keeping him there. They see a business opportunity when he receives many spectators and get rich off of charging entry fees. There is little kindness shown to him throughout the story, despite the fact that he has done no wrong. An angel, of all creatures, being treated in this way by normal people isn’t something often seen in stories. Angels are usually met with awe and wonder, for they usually bring miracles and the word of God. It’s fascinating and almost darkly refreshing to see such a change up from the typical narrative.

One could wonder if the man really was an angel, and not a trick of the devil as suggested by Father Gonzaga. I would find it hard to believe that the man was a creature of evil intent, for he made no attempts to harm anyone. Even if he was coming to take the baby as the neighbor thought, the circle of life can’t be blamed on him. Additionally, the strange almost-miracles that he causes aren’t necessarily evil. Growing three new teeth isn’t likely pleasant or practical, but is it evil? And surely nearly winning the lottery or having sunflowers grow from sores isn’t exactly harmful. The poor old angel was just a poor old angel, there was no reason to cage him in with the chickens or loathe his mere existence.

I was reminded a little bit of a novel I read a long time ago: Innocence by Dean Koontz. In the novel, there are individuals in the world whose appearance alone is so rage-inducing that regular people will attack them on sight. The reader comes to learn that these individuals are hated because they are the embodiment of innocence and perfection. They can do no wrong, and their pureness causes others to be violently jealous and angry. Similarly, perhaps the old man’s innocence is what caused the people in this short story to behave the way they did. They don’t want to be confronted with their wrongdoings and react with cruelty.

It is interesting that the story is told in third person from Pelayo and Elisenda’s side of things. It made me think that Marquez is pointing his finger at the reader, accusing whomever it is of also treating good people poorly. If the story were told from the old man’s point of view, it would have a much different feel to it. It would put the reader in the victim’s place and evoke more pity and sympathy. Instead, the reader is made to feel that this old man is a nuisance, a burden. Even the last line says as much, with Elisenda thinking now that he is gone, he is “no longer an annoyance in her life but an imaginary dot on the horizon of the sea,” (pg 225). I believe Marquez is slyly asking the readers to look upon themselves and see just how different they are from those who locked up, harassed, and hated a man whose greatest sin was being ugly and different.