
It's the high point of
my career (so far), even though mysterious forces tried to make it
the end of my career. It's also a sad story that I get sick of
telling -- I hate being forced into the role of a poor, minority
being oppressed by faceless villains, and sounding like a paranoid
nut-job, even though it's all true. You can read all about it in the
introduction of the new edition.

The
weird thing is, this book really seemed to want
to be written. Short stories tend to hit you like the flu; novels are
more like demonic possession -- but High
Aztech
was something else. I was more than inspired, writing and creating
like a maniac, as if Tezcatlipoca was whispering in my ear and Lady
Tenochitilán was holding my nether regions.

But
things take time. Despite the dirty tricks, my
audience – that overlaps with, but is different from theirs –
found and loved the book. You can't keep a flaming, visionary work of
art down.

Meanwhile, it's
demanding that I promote the living hell out it, and I'm obliging
and enjoying the wild ride.
Ernest Hogan has written other things besides High Aztech, and
is still working on things intended to set the world on fire.
2 comments:
dale Gas, Ernie!
Gracias, Chuy!
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