Seven Years after El Paso

Like most Americans, I’m sickened when I hear about another mass shooting. Since the massacre at a Walmart in El Paso, Texas, in 2019, it’s become more real whenever I enter Northgate Market, a super Mexican grocery store between Culver City and Venice, California, a store noticeably less crowded since the ICE raids started. The shooter at a El Paso Walmart killed 23 people, young and old, mostly Mexican Americans and Mexican immigrants. He admitted, outright, he drove hours from his home to kill Mexicans and immigrants. On his website, he wrote, “This attack is in response to the Hispanic invasion of Texas.” Obviously he doesn't know history. Texas was always majority Mexican until the White settlers invaded after the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. In the earliest Texas census, Mexicans were considered "White," confusing, so no one knew the exact number of Mexicans in the state.Even today, the majority is split just about 40-40 percent, between Mexican/Latino and White. After the El Paso shooting, many of my Facebook “friends,” third and fourth generation Mexican, were posting they were shaken and saddened by the tragic event, uncomfortable to use the word "racist." For me, it was a wakeup call. The violence is now closer to home, reminding me how some of our radicalized fellow Americans have placed Mexicans/Latinos in their crosshairs. I suppose it isn't anything new. In 1848, the U.S. government forced Mexico to sign the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, ceding more than 50% of its territory to Washington, agreeing to the Rio Grande as southern border, and accepting $15,000,000 in compensation, in what Ulysses S. Grant dubbed, “One of the most unjust [wars] ever waged by a stronger against the weaker country.” It’s the war Henry David Thoreou protested when he refused to pay taxes and was thrown into jail. White “settlers” came west, in droves, some bringing their slaves, many bringing a White Supremacist “slave mentality.” Though slavery had been outlawed in Texas, "racism" had not. The settlers, usually supported by law enforcement, usurped Mexican lands, jailed and executed anyone who complained or defended themselves and their families, and introduced “Juan Crow,” essentially treating Tejanos as de facto slaves. If Tejanos retaliated or organized insurrections, like in 1915, when it was rumored that Mexican, Chinese, and African Americans started the “Liberating Army for Races and Peoples,” possibly a ruse for highway robbery, the raiders killed three White Americans, under something called El Plan de San Diego, to kill all White males over sixteen and take back the Southwest, a notion one judge called, "more lunacy than insurgency.” The small group did send fear through settlers as they ripped up railroad tracks, telegraph lines, and burned bridges. The U.S. Army intervened and sent in 4,000 troops, supported by the Texas Rangers. Vigilante "settler" groups spawned and took the law into their own hands. In a matter of days, they executed 300, mostly Texas Mexicans, guilty or not, lynching and burning, what people in south Texas referred to as La Matanza, a time of terror. Accoring to historian Kelly Lytle Hernandez, in her book Bad Mexicans, Race, & Empire in the Borderlands, scholars estimated, in the subsequent years, as many as 5,000 Mexicans were killed, probably more, their corpses tossed into the deserts and the Rio Grande. It's an uncomfortable history, and one rarely told. On Facebook, many blamed Donald Trump’s rants against immigrants as the catalyst that drove the shooter to execute so many innocent people in the El Paso Walmart. Others argued, “words don’t commit murder, people do,” so, to hold Trump responsible is playing politics. “Friends” began posting their reactions, some obscene and offensive, eventually deteriorating into conservatives bashing liberals and vice-versa, some friends not sounding very friendly, others down right indignant. Lost in the fray were the deaths of innocent people, the suffering of the families, and the threat to all Americans everywhere. Of course, gun control became the issue, a large percentage of Americans supporting a ban on assault weapons and laws to begin universal background checks when purchasing a weapon; some who said there were already enough laws in place to assure “crazies” can’t purchase guns but the other side arguing the existing laws don’t go far enough, the same political cliches dished out by politicians and television pundits, who offered “prayers” instead of sensible gun “laws.” Some “friends” claimed the main problem was a Godlessness in America, too many single families, and lack of old-school, traditional values, like respect for each other, prayer in the schools. Then came the memes showing how violent music, movies, and video games were the culprit, brainwashing our kids. Of course, few people actually created the memes. Most were copied and pasted from other websites, those that fit their political ideologies. Conservative politicians took to the air waves and immediately latched on to mental illness as a cause, which inflamed television analysts who work with the mentally ill, arguing it’s an insult to people suffering from mental illnesses to blame them for mass shootings. Most mentally ill people, they said, quoting statistics, aren’t murderers, less than 3%. Liberal politicians, on the other hand, drove home the Trump-as-chief-instigator-line and used examples of his language to support their positions. I saw one FB response where a woman describing her liberal “friends” (Democrats) as being unreasonable, angry, out-of-control, and obscene. I thought this strange since some conservative responses I’d read also sounded much the same. I took a closer look at the posts. The person was right. How did I not see it? Maybe, we see what we want to see. There were angry posts on both sides. No particular ideology had a monopoly on crass, deplorable verbiage. Though, I admit, the majority of responses were measured and respectful, if not always supported by evidence.

Since the El Paso Walmart massacre, now in Trump’s second term, we’ve had a lot of shootings at schools, two assassination attempts on a presidential candidate, some assaults on churches and temples, all the shootings baffling. If past experience over mass killings holds true, nothing, will change. While politicians on the “left” spout Trump’s presidency is a threat to democracy, the president has ramped up his anti-immigrant rants, even as hundreds of thousands of immigrants, across the country, work hard at jobs most Americans won’t do. How did they go from "essential workers," to criminals so fast? If Alex Jones can get away with making his base believe Sandy Hook was a publicity stunt, what chance do we have to stop these senseless killings based on propaganda about an invasion by a particular people or religious group? What is unnerving to me is how what I consider “senseless killings” makes perfect sense to somebody else, especially those who believe what their messiahs tell them, not unlike the followers of Jim Jones who drank poison Kool Aid at his request. Some people believe “Whites” (I’m not really sure what “white” means), are losing control of the country, and “nonwhite” people are invading and taking control,” like the El Paso shooter believed, propaganda pushed by Trump advisor Steven Miller. However, people, like Miller, never mention the fact that, by any measure, the majority of people in positions of power and influence are White, male, Christian, and heterosexual. None of that is the point, or, at least, it shouldn’t be. What matters is that we are Americans, regardless of ethnicity and religion. Many of us, our fathers, and grandfathers, have worn the uniform and fought for this country and worked to make it the best country. We hold on to the promise of success. We'll continue to work hard. We shouldn’t have to worry about someone coming into a grocery store and shooting up the place, just because another person pushing propaganda told him to do it.

Pilgrim Codex - Códice peregrino

Written by Vivian Mansour.

Illustrated by Emmanuel Valtierra.

Translated by Carlos Rodríguez Cortez

*Publisher: Levine Querido

*Language: English

*ISBN-10: 1646145151

*ISBN-13: 978-1646145157

*Reading age: 4 - 8 years

*Grade level: Preschool - 3

For fans of Duncan Tonatiuh and Yuyi Morales' Dreamers, a one-of-a-kind picture book about one immigrant family's journey north, illustrated in the vein of an ancient codex and drawing upon Mesoamerican mythology.

We, the Vargas Ramírez family, come from a faraway place north of Tenochtitlan called Iztapalapa, Land of Clay Upon Water. A land surrounded by cars and dry grass; a place where the pieces of our small world were scattered. For some time we lived there, but then one day my father heard a beautiful birdsong that rose up and appeared to say tihui, tihui, tihui: let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. And so we gathered up our friends who made up that small world and decided to head north, for the other side, and a better life.

Together the Boy and his family will journey from the Land of the Frogs to The Place Where Feet Cry to the River Where the Waters Tangle, fleeing Gunmen and braving Coyotes and plunging darknesses as black as an obsidian forest. Originally published in Mexico, Pilgrim Codex (Códice peregrino) captures through the eyes of a child one family's part in the ever-changing and fleeting story of the brave migrant warriors who search for a better place to live.

Códice peregrino

Para los admiradores de Duncan Tonatiuh y Dreamers por Yuyi Morales, Códice peregrino es un libro ilustrado inigualable sobre el viaje al norte de una familia inmigrante, ilustrado al estilo de un antiguo códice y basado en la mitología mesoamericana. 

Nosotros, la familia Vargas Ramírez, venimos de un lugar lejano al norte de Tenochtitlan llamado Iztapalapa, lugar de la loza sobre el agua. Una tierra rodeada de autos y pasto seco. Un sitio donde estaban repartidos los pedazos de nuestro pequeño mundo. Ahí vivimos algún tiempo, pero un día mi padre escuchó un canto hermoso de un ave que se elevaba y parecía decir tihui, tihui, tihui: vamos, vamos, vamos. Y así reunimos a nuestros amigos que conformaban ese pequeño mundo y decidimos partir hacia el norte, hacia el otro lado, hacia una vida mejor.

Juntos, el niño y su familia viajarán desde la tierra de las ranas hasta el lugar donde los pies lloran, pasando por el río donde se enredan las aguas, huyendo de los pistoleros y enfrentando a los coyotes y a las oscuridades profundas como un bosque de obsidiana. Originalmente publicado en México, Códice peregrino (Pilgrim Codex) captura a través de los ojos de un niño la experiencia de una familia en la constantemente cambiante y fugaz historia de los valientes guerreros migrantes que buscan un lugar mejor para vivir.

 

Vivian Mansour is a Mexican writer. She studied communication sciences and has collaborated on different media such as radio, television, and magazines. She has also worked in the creative area for several advertising agencies. She is the author of many short stories for children. Among the recognitions she has received are the FILIJ Short Stories for Children Award and the A la Orilla del Viento Award.

Author residence: Mexico City

Emmanuel Valtierra is a Texan Mexican illustrator. He studied graphic design at the Visual Arts Faculty in Monterrey, Nuevo León. Since 2016, he has focused on creating different projects related to the Aztec culture, among which stands out Codex Valtierra that won the Sidewise Award for Alternate History in 2018. Through his work, he intends to instill Mexican pre-Hispanic cultures and to show its ancestral arts to new generations. Illustrator residence: San Antonio, TX

Carlos Rodríguez Cortez was born in Irapuato, Guanajuato, Mexico. At six-months old, Carlos arrived in the United States, and with time, he and his family settled in Los Angeles, the city Carlos now considers home. Carlos graduated from Yale University with two bachelor's degrees in political science and Spanish language. Since leaving school, Carlos has worked in education, both as a teacher and strategist. In his free time, you can find Carlos tending to his pepper plants, adding to his vinyl collection, writing in his journal, or riding the Los Angeles Metro. Translator residence: Los Angeles, CA

Indie Bookseller Wins Big & Reviewer Reciprocity

What if they hold a book signing and no one shows up? 

Michael Sedano

No such worry at Pasadena’s venerable indie bookseller Vroman’s books (link) on Sunday August 9. At the reasonable hour of 3 p.m., Rey Rodríguez and El Martillo Press greet a hundred plus eager readers-to-be of Todos Somos Sagrados/All Are Sacred. 

Back in May, La Bloga shared Michael Sedano’s enthusiastic review  (link) of Todos Somos Sagrado/All Are Sacred, and its central goal of  articulating “the need for radical love, kindness, tenderness, forgiveness, and joy to mend a wounded world.”  Rodríguez, interviewed by Obed Silva, keeps the SRO audience leaning into the conversation as the pair examine Rodríguez’ themes of love, Grace, giving, reciprocity, community, counter-productive demonizing.

Their conversation ranges across themes in a free-wheeling, sometimes divagating colloquy but Rodríguez impresses by always circling back to Silva’s initial probe to answer the question directly. That is one satisfied audience, as book sales prove.

Vroman’s satisfaction should be enough to encourage the bookseller to open its doors wider to raza literature, a rare commodity at the store. In its publicity for the event, Vroman's tells its friends, "A purchase of the book from Vroman's is greatly appreciated and makes events like this possible."

The event sells 75 books when 40 sales would be a stupendous result. At $20 a copy, Vroman’s pulls in $1500 in 90 minutes of Chicano Literature.

A book signing is a book sale. The line for Rey's sharpie extends past the elevator.

An important element of a book party is gente chatting and connecting.
Here, Martillo Press CEO Matt Sedillo chats with
Altadena Poet Laureate-emerita Thelma T. Reyna, CEO of Golden Foothills Press.

Todos Somos Sagrados/All Are Sacred is the work of
Rey M. Rodríguez and translator Javier H. Morrone.
Morrone shares translation anecdotes with satisfied readers.

La Bloga happily shares fotos of the book launch and, as serendipity has it, Rey Rodríguez demonstrates the reciprocity of artists supporting artists as Rodríguez reviews Jazmine Ulloa's examination of US culture ignited by the 2019 mass murder in El Paso, Tx.

Review: Jazmine Ulloa.  El Paso: Five Families and One Hundred Years of Blood, Migration, Race and Memory. NY: Dutton, an imprint of Penguin Random House, 2026.

Rey Rodriguez

 

El Paso: Five Families and One Hundred Years of Blood, Migration, Race and Memory by Jazmine Ulloa proudly and forcefully argues that this city’s history, people, and binational nature must be brought directly into the center of U.S. history much like Ellis Island or the American Revolution are, instead of being relegated to the margins of our nation’s narrative and simply revisited every time an immigration crisis explodes. 

 

As someone who was born in El Paso but later moved to Colorado, then to the East Coast, and finally to the West Coast, U.S. history seemed to always traverse time and space from the East to the West. 

 

And, growing up, the history of the West always seemed incomplete. Mesa Verde National Park’s oldest human artifacts date back over 10,000 years. So-called Chaco Canyon in what is now called New Mexico features sacred structures that are roughly 1,000 to 1,200 years old. Santa Fe, the current capital of New Mexico, was founded in 1610. Yet, I never saw these facts referenced in any U.S. history books I read in high school or college. I did hear about the Pilgrims who landed in 1620.

 

Historians, almost uniformly white and male, ignored, mischaracterized, or erased Indigenous history. They often did the same regarding any history coming from the South to the North.

 

So when I finished El Paso, Ulloa’s argument seemed so natural, refreshing, and rewarding to read after so many years of, at best, ignorance or neglect, and at worst “history’s” attempt to support a manifest destiny or white nationalistic storyline. 

 

Ulloa’s book invites us to reconsider this incomplete narrative and warns that if we do not, then we do it at our peril. And not for all the obvious reasons one can imagine, but for a more urgent one: it puts people relegated to the margins in danger and, in turn, threatens the fabric of our democracy and society. To put a finer point on it, George Orwell once said, “The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.”

 

The book's genesis emerges from a tragedy that haunts me still today because it seems to have been so quickly forgotten from the nation’s conscience — the wounding of many and the killing of 23 people at a Walmart in El Paso by a white supremacist traveling 10 hours across Texas because, as his lawyer explained, he did it to “dissuade Mexican and other Hispanic immigrants from coming to the United States.” The killer’s motivations naturally seemed to flow from a president’s words, who, at the time, fanned the flames of xenophobia with his warning that America was being invaded by immigrants from the South and crying out to build a wall on the border between Mexico and the U.S. to stop the hordes.

 

Ulloa devotes an entire chapter to the El Paso massacre. Indeed, she makes references to it throughout the book. The victims ranged in age from 15 to 90 years old and included U.S. citizens, Mexican citizens, and one German citizen. Many were shopping with family members on a busy back-to-school weekend. The attack is widely recognized as the deadliest anti-Latino mass shooting in modern U.S. history.

 

We must never forget their names: 

Javier Amir Rodríguez, 15;

Andre Pablo Anchondo, 23;

Jordan Anchondo, 24;

Guillermo "Memo" García, 36;

Leonardo Campos, 41;

Ivan Filiberto Manzano, 46;

Maribel Loya Hernández, 56;

Elsa Mendoza Márquez, 57;

Maria Eugenia Legarreta Rothe, 58;

Arturo Benavidez, 60;

Jorge Calvillo García, 61;

Gloria Irma Márquez, 61;

David Johnson, 63;

Margie Reckard, 63;

Alexander Gerhard Hoffmann, 66;

Sara Ester Regalado Monreal, 66;

Adolfo Cerros Hernández, 68;

Maria Flores, 77;

Raul Flores, 77;

Juan de Dios Velázquez Chairez, 77;

Teresa Sanchez, 82;

Angelina Silva Englisbee, 86;

Luis Alfonso Juárez, 90.

Presentes!

 

Ulloa’s work honors them and begins to develop a more complex and rich story of a place where Mexican-Americans, Blacks, Anglos, Chicanos, Indigenous people, Mexicans have always lived, and immigrants who came to the U.S. from Latin America and other parts of the world, including those like the Chinese, are very much a part of the fabric of this country’s history and therefore very much belong to our narrative. The more we bring these stories to the center, the more all are protected from the violence directed at the other.  

 

Ulloa’s success in centering El Paso stems from being raised in the city and from being a highly trained New York Timesreporter. Her lived experience and training teach her to tell the story of this border area through stories of five families, because, among other reasons, we can all relate to the complexities of our families. They are messy, and who can resist hearing about family lore?

 

The family histories propel Ulloa's storytelling, creating a page-turner that encourages the reader to learn more about them and the historical context they must confront.

 

Throughout the book, we learn many things that we should know but have been generally untold in the national conversation. I invite readers to buy the book to learn them, but just a few to mention include the impact of the Mexican Revolution on U.S. history, the unnecessary delousing and chemical fumigation at the U.S./Mexico border for over 50 years of Mexicans, especially Brown ones, which the Nazis studied and then used against Jews and others in Germany, the shifting immigration laws over the years including the Bracero Program, Operation Wetback, the immigration law of 1986 that gave amnesty to millions of undocumented immigrations, and the cruelty under the current corrupt administration’s tenure.

 

Ulloa’s book became personal to me because the day that I heard about the El Paso shooting, I cried during a talk at work I had been asked to give. The El Paso connection between this city and me, even though I was only born there, proved too powerful to forget that those lost could have been my parents, sons, or family. The killer’s motivation was too filled with hate, ignorance, and rage to imagine. It overwhelmed me. How could someone hate another to kill so indiscriminately? As I reflected on the moment during my talk, the tears fell easily and without apology.

 

So when I read El Paso, I connected with it at so many different levels. Ulloa’s book is an important brick in the construction of our country’s history; without it, the incomplete narrative of how this country emerged puts those on the margins in danger and, in turn, all of us because are often what supports our democracy and those on the margins have much to teach us. 

 

In researching for this book review, I learned that the families of those who were killed decided against the death penalty. They did so for many reasons, including that some thought that it would be a greater punishment for the killer to live for the rest of his life with the horrific thought of what he had done than to be executed, but others did so as a specific kind of forgiveness. A forgiveness that would give them closure and help them to move on. One family actually asked to hug the killer during sentencing, and the judge permitted it. For them there was enough hate in the world and they had no intention of adding to it. El Paso has much to teach us above and beyond pure history, and Ulloa’s El Paso is an extraordinary place to start learning from it.

***

La Bloga's 21 years honoring Chicana Chicano Latina Latino literature and artes, y más, has yet to reach a peak--we keep meeting wonderful guest writers like Rey Rodríguez.

La Bloga welcomes guest columnists sharing book and arts reviews, cultural reports, and matters of particular interest to gente who love cultura, literature, criticism, arte. Inquiries welcome by clicking the foto banner at the head of the page to email Michael Sedano with your proposal.

“Viento dulce / Gentle Breeze” por Xánath Caraza

“Viento dulce / Gentle Breeze” por Xánath Caraza

 

Xanath Caraza

“…se conocieron en las fiestas patronales de la señora de la Magdalena, en un pueblo cercano a la ciudad de Xalapa. Era un pueblo colmado de verde, bañado de luz dorada, aire puro de las montañas, rodeado de interminables cafetales y platanares, un río de aguas frías que, en una de sus caídas, regaba una abundante cascada. La mañana que se conocieron era cristalina y cálida. Tania, recién desembarcada del transporte público, caminaba por la calle principal—le fascinaban las casas de teja y los colores brillantes en las paredes—cuando vio venir dos hombres jóvenes hacia ella. No los reconoció pero uno de ellos la saludó. Era su amigo Martín en compañía de alguien más. Martín y Tania, después de un beso en la mejilla, se detuvieron a conversar de todas esas cosas que la formalidad exige a dos conocidos: cómo estás, qué has hecho últimamente, cuánto tiempo sin vernos, sí, mira, casi un año; fue el inicio de esa plática casi obligada. De pronto, entre los saludos y charla casual, José fue presentado.

 

José estaba recién egresado de la universidad. Más joven que ella, un par de años, nada excepcional. Tenía ojos color café claro, el cabello muy negro, corto y bien peinado.

 

Pasaron el resto del día juntos entre puestos de flores, artesanías de madera de café y toros que corrían por la calle principal. Para el atardecer no pudieron faltar a la panadería con horno de leña, y la obligada visita a la iglesia de la Magdalena donde Tania dejó un ramillete de claveles rojos…”

 

Fragmento del cuento “Viento dulce / Gentle Breeze” incluido en Metztli de Xánath Caraza (Capítulo Siete, 2018). Traducido por Sandra Kingery y Kaitlyn Hipple. Metztli recibió Segundo Lugar como Mejor Colección de Cuento en español para los International Latino Book Awards en 2019.

 

Xanath Caraza

 

“…They met at the Fiesta de la Magdalena in a town close to the city of Xalapa. The town was bursting with green, bathed in golden light, pure mountain air, surrounded by endless coffee and banana plantations, a cold-water river that offered up an abundant cascade. The morning they met was warm, crystalline. Tania, having just arrived on public transportation, was walking down the main street, fascinated by the tile-covered houses and the bright colors on the walls, when she saw two young men coming toward her. She didn’t recognize them, but one of them waved at her. It was her friend Martín alongside someone else. Martín and Tania, after a kiss on the cheek, stopped to talk about all the things formality demands of two acquaintances: how are you?, what’ve you been up to?, it’s been so long, I know, almost a year now; that was the beginning of their almost obligatory conversation. All of a sudden, between the greeting and the casual conversation, José was introduced.

 

José had just graduated from the university, a bit younger than her, a couple of years, nothing out of the ordinary. His eyes were light brown, his hair, jet black, short, and neat.

 

They spent the rest of the day together between flower stands, crafts made from coffee tree wood, and bulls running down the main street. In the evening, they couldn’t miss out on a trip to the bakery with the wood-fired oven or the obligatory visit to the Church of Santa María Magdalena where Tania left a bouquet of red carnations…”

 

Fragmento del cuento “Viento dulce / Gentle Breeze” incluido en Metztli de Xánath Caraza (Capítulo Siete, 2018). Traducido por Sandra Kingery y Kaitlyn Hipple. Metztli recibió Segundo Lugar como Mejor Colección de Cuento en español para los International Latino Book Awards en 2019.

 

Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza

Anger is a Gift

Review: Anger is a Gift: An Anthology of Resistance and Response Poems to the 2024 Election. Eds. Adrian Ernesto Cepeda and Edward Vidaurre. McAllen, TX: 2026.

Margaret Elysia Garcia

After the 2024 election, poet Adrian Ernesto Cepeda was really feeling it. Not unlike most of us, he felt (and still feels like) the country disregarded what was obvious to him and most of us—that immigrants, that Latinas Latinos and Chicanas Chicanos would have targets on our backs. 

That target would be coated in misplaced tropes and stereotypes and scapegoating and as we have seen too much lately, it does not matter whether one is documented or undocumented—ICE and the Trump Administration is out for blood, our blood.

It’s enough to make us more than angry. It is in this political climate that Flowersong Press’ newest anthology Anger is a Gift was born. 

But Anger is a Gift really started as an idea between Adrian and a Costa Rican poet friend of his. They often shared their work with each other. Adrian shared the first poem in the anthology that he penned himself and his friend was blown away.  His friend told him that all these reactions to the new administration need to be in a book.

Adrian hadn’t edited a book of poems, but the drive and motivation were there. He thought about publishers he’d worked with in the past and approached some. No one was really into it, or perhaps, did not see the critical angle a book like this would have in these times. Adrian contacted Edward Vidaurre, publisher at Flowersong Press in Texas.  Vidaurre had Adrian draft a proposal and Edward loved the idea. What stood out to Edward Vidaurre was that the proposal “wasn’t trying to define anger” but rather, it was inviting people into the anger.

“We live in a time where everyone is told to calm down, move on, forgive, be civil. But for a lot of people, anger isn't something they choose. It's a response to injustice, loss, racism, violence, silence, or simply not being heard. Adrian understood that,” said Edward. After reading the initial draft, Vidaurre felt like the content was less about being angry and more about being human. He liked that.

Adrian’s concentration as an editor was to find distinct shorter pieces. And even though he chose to put the poets in alphabetical order, he made sure each piece sang to the piece it was next to in the collection.

“After reading the first draft, I realized this wasn't going to be a book about being angry. It was going to be a book about being human. And no two writers’ responses to the theme of anger arrived the same way,” said Edward.

“Some pieces are loud. Some are quiet. Some are deeply personal while others speak to what's happening in the world around us. I don't think there's one poem that carries the book. I think it's the conversation between all of them that makes the anthology work,” said publisher Vidaurre.

Adrian Cepeda sees the book having potential on college campuses, “this is something that will open up a dialogue.” His wife, who is an adjunct professor, suggested the critical discussion questions at the back of the anthology in hopes the book will be read and used by colleges and universities.

Cepeda also has a poem at the end that takes that anger and turns it into hopefulness. He liked the idea of a rose being the symbol of resistance, and like a 90s CD, it’s that extra song at the end that quietly defines the rest of the music.

Adrian was also going for a more universal appeal and approach to the anthology. Anger against the current political establishment of course, but also more than that. He wanted people to pick it up in any part of the Americas in any year and relate to it. A Macondo, if you will.

“As a publisher, that's always what I'm looking for. Not just strong individual pieces, but work that begins talking to the piece before it, and the piece after it. The anthology became something larger than any one writer could have created alone,” said Edward Vidaurre, the publisher.

FlowerSong has published several anthologies over the years, and publisher Edward Vidaurre loves them. “A single-author collection lets you spend time inside one person's imagination. An anthology lets you witness a community thinking together. I think both are equally important and necessary,” Edward said. He felt the press will always be open to publishing anthologies when “there's a conversation that needs to happen.”

“I’ve always believed books can create conversations that might not happen otherwise. My hope is that readers don't come away agreeing with every piece. I hope they come away thinking. Feeling. Sitting with ideas that maybe make them a little uncomfortable. That's what good literature has always done.”

Anger is a Gift can be ordered directly from Flowersong Press (link), Libromobile (link), and your local indie bookseller. Priced to move at $17.00, Flowersong Press offers a three-payment deal to acquire Anger is a Gift, details at the publisher's website (click).

Chicanonautica: Grumbling in an Extreme Heat Warning

by Ernest Hogan

Another Extreme Heat Warning. There’s a joke going around that it will last until November. That’s life in the Phoenix Metro Area, the Valley of the Sun, where the Heat Island Effect goes wild in the summer.

It was 117 degrees (Fahrenheit) the other day.

What’s the Father of Chicano Science Fiction to do? Más cerveza? Té helado? Agua?

Yeah. Water. Gotta stay hydrated. If you’re wondering if you’re dehydrated, you probably are.

I’m doing my best. Don’t want to be another body on sidewalks that you could fry eggs on.

The library where I work is also a Heat Relief  Center, so there’s plenty of water and the air-conditioning is killer.

Still, the purple sage is blooming, and my wife texted me a picture of a rattlesnake cooling off in the dark corners of her workplace.

 Photo by Emily Devenport

And the monsoon has brought tropical moisture from down Mexico way. Towering clouds bubble up and bring rain that completely evaporates in an hour. For a while the temperature drops into the 80s. Maybe I should dig out my jacket.

Life’s getting sci-fi. Chicano is a science fiction state of being. 

Got air-conditioning in your flying lowrider, ese?

Brains bake. Pedestrians go zombie-eyed. I feel more like chilling in a cool spot and watching some wacko cartoons and movies or maybe read. Right now I’m switching between the new Carlos Castaneda bio and Ishmael Reed’s Terribles books, but it’s hard to focus for long.

Maybe I'll do some Zen and the Art of Microwave Burritos. Got Spanish Style Rice, a Chicken Burrito Bowl, and Habanero Hot Sauce from Trader Joe’s, some Pace Picante Sauce, a can of  “traditional” refried beans, and some Lala’s Traditional Style Tortillas from Safeway. 

Then I can unwind, think about my unfinished Paco Cohen, Mariachi of Mars novel, check for news about the Xicanxfuturist front, think about what to teach in my "New, Improved, Ancient Chicano Sci-Fi Wisdom" class in October, not to mention what’s going down on the streets all across the land.

I’m feeling funny about sending any of my work out. Publishing is not doing great lately. I keep waiting for a sign of how the living hell things will go.

No news about the FBI investigation of shots fired at the Phoenix ICE office. The wars are getting hideous. The politics are insane. I keep having visions of weird shit, dreaming with my eyes open, sci-fi rasquache percolating.

Better watch out. I could come up with an idea for a story or novel or something . . .

Ernest Hogan is waiting for his novels to return to Amazon. Guerrilla Mural of a Siren’s Song is still available (I think--maybe I should check again). Tezcatlipoca help him.