Book Review: Nilda by Nicholasa Mohr

Nilda: Ground-Breaking Book by Nicholasa Mohr

Reviewed by Thelma T. Reyna

Nicholasa Mohr (b. 1938) has been described as the most prolific and renowned Puerto Rican-American novelist. Born and raised in the Bronx, New York, she represents the “Nuyorican” writers (“New York Puerto Ricans”), a group that first rose to national prominence for their considerable talents in the 20th century. Puerto Ricans officially became American citizens in 1917.

Mohr grew up in the 1940’s, with World War II a gauzy backdrop, and suffered the proverbial slings and arrows of prejudice and discrimination. With the well-received publication of NILDA in 1974, however, she cemented her place in American literature as one of the earliest American Latinos to publish her writings in English in the United States and one of the first to write a young adult book in English.

Mainstream America at that time had little interest in publications about Latinos. But Nilda successfully crossed the divide. Since 1974, Mohr has been the most productive and renowned Nuyorican novelist, earning major awards and publishing in a variety of genres: novels, short stories, novellas, and nonfiction. Her influence in other authors’ development has been significant, not just through her 15 published books, but also through her workshops and university teaching.

NILDA recounts the life of a Puerto Rican family in the Bronx from 1941 through 1945, as seen through the viewpoint of the only daughter in the family and the youngest child, Nilda. Her family is poor, large, and as diverse in personality and outlook as her neighborhood. But these nine people, with their varying degrees of dysfunction and tension, are the source of stability and love that enable Nilda to navigate her childhood intact. She, as well as other Puerto Ricans, regularly encounters naked racism and marginalization, often at the hands of teachers and other authority figures who should, paradoxically, be protecting and nurturing her. Through it all, Nilda is alternately petulant and carefree, defiant and obedient, aloof and moved to tears, frightened and resolute. She exhibits the resilience of her mother and moves forward.

Nilda, as a pioneering novel, captures the unique cultural experiences of New York’s Puerto Ricans in the 1940’s and thereby secures a solid place in the history of our literature. It still resonates decades later because its cultural depictions of family, love, individual pride, and resilience in the face of hardship still matter.

Order from Libromobile or the publisher.

https://artepublicopress.com/browse-and-order-books/?swoof=1&woof_text=nilda

[Note: Originally published in March 26, 2012, in a prior version, in Jesus Trevino’s  Latinopia, www.Latinopia.com]

Chicanonautica: The Surrealistic Burrito Western of My Dreams

 by Ernest Hogan

Once again, I’m waiting . . . for Codex II of Xicanxfuturism to come out . . . for the other shoe to drop on the world-transmogrifying moment of history we’re living through . . . for news about the precarious state of the publishing industry . . .

So, I do what I usually do, let my monstrous imagination wander, feed it the weirdness I see, let things happen.

Often I end up getting flashes of the Surrealistic Spaghetti Western of My Dreams, that I’ve decided to start calling the Surrealistic Burrito Western of My Dreams. It’s a better name for something growing in a Chicano brain. A collection of stuff wrapped in the tortilla of my twisted worldview.

 

They come from living in Aztlán, looking through the veneer of corporate Americana into the forgotten history and the witch’s brew of battling mythologies and my imagination. The word decolonized doesn’t seem to be strong enough.

 

The fact that it all gets more post-apocalyptic, alternate universe-y, and surrealistic (I overuse the word, but it’ll do it until somebody comes up with a better one) every day makes it more intense.

Though I grew up watching the likes of the Lone Ranger and Roy Rogers, my favorite western is El Topo, so it ain’t gonna be no Johns Ford and Wayne kinda thing.

I mostly see things, take a picture—thank Tezcatlipoca for the camera phone— and imagine . . . mostly images, occasional fragments of scenarios like those wacko dreams that I can’t even begin to describe.

I’ve mentioned them to my wife and joked about writing a screenplay. (So many things in my life start as jokes!) But I can’t come up with a plot or characters (yet). Just imagery that amuses me no end.

Maybe if I added some elements of my Irish/New Mexican family history with my ancestors riding in a posse after and testifying against Billy the Kid, giving Pancho Villa a curandero cure, working in a Mexican circus. 

Like most Chicano families, our history is undocumented, mostly legend, full of holes that can be filled with glorious delirium.

Probably it will have to be more multiversal or surrealistic than post-apocalyptic. Time, space, realities . . .

Maybe it should be a novel, but only if I can make it so outrageous that no one dares call it magic realism.

Or maybe I should have the screenplay be nothing but opening scenes . . .

Fade in: The sun rises over a desert making twisted and decaying cacti into a tangle of bizarre silhouettes. The wind whistles. A flaming tumbleweed rolls past a Mayan pyramid in front of jagged mountains under psychedelic clouds. The camera pans to a close-up of the head of a person buried up to their neck. Ants swarm over it, feasting on the flesh. Bare skull shows in places. A dirigible painted like a feathered serpent passes by overhead. Cowboy boots decorated with art nouveau circuit patterns move in on either side of the screen. A stream of urine hits the head. The ants are undisturbed. The remaining eye opens. Cue Pepe Guízar’s Guadalajara, LOUD!

Ernest Hogan has been using radio.garden to listen to stations from parts of Mexico where Americans are told not to go. On one he heard songs with lyrics including “maquina del tiempo” and “no puedo teleporte.” Meanwhile, buy Codex I of Xicanxfuturism!

CABE 2026

The CABE 2026 Annual Conference will be held at the San Francisco Marriott Marquis from March 4–7, 2026.

The California Association for Bilingual Education (CABE) is a non-profit organization incorporated in 1976 to promote bilingual education and quality educational experiences for all students in California. CABE has chapters and members, as well as partnerships with other state and national advocacy organizations, working to promote equity and student achievement for students with diverse cultural, racial, and linguistic backgrounds. CABE recognizes and honors the fact that we live in a rich multicultural, global society and that respect for diversity makes us a stronger state and nation.

CABE conferences, such as the CABE 2026 Annual Conference, focus on themes like biliteracy, multicultural competency, and educational equity for English learners. These events serve as important venues for addressing the educational needs of California's millions of English learners and provide opportunities for professional development and collaboration among educators.

CABE VISION AND MISSION

Biliteracy, Multicultural Competency, & Educational Equity for All.

To support the vision of biliteracy, multicultural competency, and educational equity for all students, we will embody our shared values by implementing priorities, initiatives, and services designed to increase California’s capacity to create caring and highly effective learning environments that promote multiliteracy and support English learners and all diverse populations to graduate college, career, and globally prepared to live their lives to their fullest potential.

 If you are around come and say hello at the East West Discovery Press Booth.

Casa de Colibríes

At Home With Hummingbirds 

Michael Sedano 

Concha screamed in agony. The smaller boy heard her pain and understood immediately something awful had taken place. The older boy stood over the pile of green and brown feathers staring stupidly at what he'd accomplished. 

Concha gave him a look of pity and picked up the carcass. In a few seconds, Concha returned from inside carrying a hefty black book. The woman opened the Bible to some random page in the middle, laid down the dead bird and closed the book around it to dry. Concha told the small boy about la chuparrosa's magic and how she would keep the dried body for luck. 

It wasn't lucky for the hummingbird. The boy didn't understand that part. He knew about lucky rabbit's feet, but didn't understand that part, either. 

--La Bloga, May 2021. 

That’s the beginning of my attachment to hummingbirds. I am that smaller boy in the story, which occurs in Spanish at my grandmother’s house, sometime around 1949.

I can see Concha’s Biblia, how she brought it out into the sunlight. She had some flowers pressed in the pages of that book that proved to my eyes the efficacy of using books to dry stuff. 

Today, almost eighty years later, I have a photographer’s memory of hummingbirds. That is, I remember where I’ve seen them nectaring on one or another tree, shrub, or flowers, and I return with my longest lens, time and again. 

I stalk the Huntington Library and Los Angeles County Arboretum in search of good fotos. I talk to the gardeners—mostly in Spanish—asking where they’ve seen colibri in the area. The gardeners are from different places and they call the flying jewels chuparosa or picaflor, in addition to colibri. 

Chicano literature expresses high regard for hummingbirds. Luis Alberto Urrea’s gifted readers his Hummingbird’s Daughter (link), which isn’t about hummingbirds per se. My favorite literary hummingbird is Graciela Limon’s title character in Song of the Hummingbird. The character, Huitzitzilín, is named hummingbird in her native Mexica language, and has a mind faster than a speeding colibri as she torments the Inquisitor assigned to civilize her. 

I live well, after Alzheimer’s, and now, post-Eaton fire. My daughter bought a house where the yerba buena grows like a weed and mejor, a hedge of Cuphea ignea, cigar flower, firecracker flower, that hummingbirds love. I noticed that right away when I moved here las Fall.

Instead of walking miles and waiting half an hour or so for a glorious sight, I sit outside near my front door, lens pointed toward the hedge and wait. And wait. With enough patience, and a healthy dose of serendipity, these sparkling souls share themselves with a happy photographer.

While I enjoy the walkabout and all the other critters I get to see and photograph, I like the thought "cast down your buckets where you are." I'm not forced to look anywhere but here, I don't have to click my ruby slippers incanting "there's no place like home" but that's the way it is, for my hummers and me, there's no place like home.

“Música Acuática” by Xánath Caraza

“Música Acuática” by Xánath Caraza

 

Xanath Caraza

What a pleasure to share my work. Last Thursday I was invited to read some of my poetry and one of the poems that I presented was “Música acuática / Water Musica”. I’m happy to share that on this occasion this poem was very well received by the audience. Hope you enjoy this poem along with a few photos of the event.

 

“Música Acuática” by Xánath Caraza

 

Música acuática sobre la superficie del lago

Gotas de sonidos naturales

Vibraciones de lluvia entre los pinos

Sonidos del bosque

Murmullos celestiales que perforan el lago

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, jiiish, jiiish

Círculos de plata en crescendo

Reflejo de nubes grises

Sinfonía de musgos y líquenes

Superficie de agua interrumpida por la música

Pasión sonora suave y abrumadora

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, jiiish, jiiish

Sonidos asaltando las fosas nasales

Sentidos exaltados al ritmo de la lluvia

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, jiiish, jiiish

Sinfonía acuática

Pintura musical

Lago impresionista

 

 

Xanath Caraza

Water Music

 

Water music on the surface of the lake

Drops of natural sounds

Vibrations of rain among pine trees

Sounds of the forest

Celestial whispering that pierces the lake

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, hiiish, hiiish

Circles of silver in crescendo

Reflection of gray clouds

Symphony of moss and lichen

Surface of water interrupted by music

Audible passion soft and exhausting

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, hiiiish, hiiiish

Sounds assaulting the nose

Senses running high to the rhythm of rain

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, hiiiiish, hiiiish

Aquatic symphony

Musical painting

Impressionist lake

 

Su Müziği

 

Gölün yüzeyindeki su müziği

Doğal seslerin damlacıkları

Cam ağacı arasındaki yağmurun titreşimleri

Ormandaki sesler

Gökyüzünün fısıldaması gölleri deliyor

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, hiiish, hiiish

Gümüş daireler giderek artıyor

Gri bulutların yansıması

Yosunların ahengi

Müzik suyun yüzeyini titrettikçe

Yumuşakça ve çok yorgun bir ses

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, hiiiish, hiiiish

Sesler burnumuza saldırırken

Yağmurun ritmini daha çok duyuyoruz

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, hiiiiish, hiiiish

Suyun ahengi

Göldeki izlenimler

 

 

Xanath Caraza

Musique aquatique

 

Musique aquatique sur la surface du lac

Gouttes de sons naturels

Vibrations de pluie entre les pins

Bruits de la forêt

Murmures célestes qui percent le lac

Tic,tic,tic, tic, tic, jiiish, jiiish

Cercles d'argent en crescendo

Reflet de nuages gris

Symphonie des mousses  et lichens

Surface de l'eau interrompue par la musique

Passion sonore douce et écrasante

Tic,tic,tic, tic, tic, jiiis

Sons assaillant les narines

Sens exaltés au rythme de la pluie

Tic,tic,tic, tic, tic, jiiish, jiiish

Symphonie aquatique

Peinture musicale

Lac impressionniste

 

 

“Música acuática & Water Music” by Xánath Caraza are included in Conjuro (Caraza X., Mammoth Publications, 2012). Translated into the Turkish by Eyyup Esen and into the French by Justine Temeyissa Patalé. Translated into the English by the author.

 

“Música acuática” was recorded by Phonodia, University Ca’Foscari in Venice, Italy. 

 

Xanath Caraza

Conjuro received Second place in the ‘Best Poetry Book in Spanish’ category of the 2013 International Latino Book Awards.  In 2013 Conjuro also received Honorable mention in the ‘Best First Book in Spanish, Mariposa Award’ category of the 2013 International Latino Book Awards. Conjuro was an award-winning finalist in the 'Fiction: Multicultural' category of the 2013 International Book Awards.

 

  

Poetry Connection: Following Santa Barbara's New Poet Laureate, George Yatchisin, Around Town

  

 

Santa Barbara Poet Laureate George Yatchisin

 

 Melinda Palacio, Santa Barbara Poet Laureate 2023-2025

Over two weeks in February, I followed Santa Barbara Poet Laureate, George Yatchisin, as he spoke to two very different book clubs, the Santa Barbara Women’s Book Club at Rockwood and the Montecito Poetry Club. The Women’s Book Club, led by Linda Alderman, is unique in that they don’t read a shared book ahead of their meeting. Unlike most book clubs, they invite an author to talk about their work and encourage them to bring books to sell. They asked George to offer a more general discussion on the role of a poet laureate. This topic never gets old. It’s interesting to see how many people don’t know what a poet laureate is or that the position exists in Santa Barbara.

George is the city’s 11^th Poet Laureate. He charmed everyone at the Women’s Bookclub with his poetry and deep dive into the history of the laurels worn by Apollo and Poets Laureate. He brought a sample laurel crown to add to his explaination of the mythology surrounding the laurels. The wearing of the laurels are associated with the Greek God Apollo who was struck by one of Cupid’s golden love arrows. The nymph Daphne happened to be in his sight but Cupid didn’t use the same arrow on her. In praying for a solution to escape Apollo, she was transformed into a laurel tree. Since Apollo is associated with poetry, he declared the tree sacred and wears the laurels in her honor. Ancient traditions passed the tradition of wearing of laurels to heroes and poets. Someone asked the question, that I often hear as well, ‘Does every city and state have a poet laureate?’ You guessed correctly, the answer is No.

Santa Barbara didn’t have a poet laureate until 2005 with the installation of the inaugural position going to the late Barry Spacks. Sometimes, institutions appoint a poet laureate that is separate from the city poet laureate, such as former Independent intern, Leticia Hernández-Linares who is San Francisco’s library laureate. There’s also the example of former Santa Barbara resident, David Oliveira, who was recognized as Santa Barbara’s Millenial Poet from 1999-2000 for his promotion of poetry, for founding the Santa Barbara Poetry Series, and for co-founding Mille Grazie Press with Cynthia Anderson. David will make a return trip to Santa Barbara on March 27 when he reads at the Santa Barbara Public Library in the series he founded.

Over at the Montecito Library, the format for the Montecito Poetry Club is very different. This group is made up of poets, four poets laureate were in attendance. Santa Barbara Librarian Jace Turner organizes this group. Packets of George’s poems were passed out. People sat in circle and there was more sharing and less of a lecture or presentation from the featured poet. This group is used to discussing favorite poets who are not in the room. It was a treat for them to be able to ask questions from the poet. George read some poems to the Rockwood group, but at the Montecito Poetry Club, George had the honor of hearing the audience read his poems to him and then ask questions about his process and inspiration. Jace set the tone by asking each person in the circle to describe what draws them to poetry. George was asked how he felt about language.

As someone who writes about food for the Independent, George discussed the taste of language in poetry: “I like how a poem feels in my mouth,” he said. He adds spice and flavor to his poems by infusing them with obscure or eclectic song lyrics. There’s much freedom and playfulness in his poems and he says that he tries to move around while he writes. In April, for Poetry Month, there will be plenty of opportunities to taste and sip poems. George and Gunpowder Press will release a food poetry anthology celebrating local food, drinks, restaurants, and agriculture. Also, George will curate the 12^th Annual “Spirits in the Air: Potent Potable Poetry, April 15 at the Good Lion.

This week’s poem comes from Santa Barbara Poet Laureate, George Yatchisin.

An Air

Feathers are the things

with hope, for who doesn’t

brighten at a first glimpse

of birds, whether alight

or in flight, stealthily silent

or full-throated in song.

You can’t over-value them

in charm per pound,

in the lift they give,

not thinking about giving at all.

Even a simple house wren

prefers bugs to your bird feeder.

They’re unruffled we can’t

distinguish among their happy

host of dust-colored birds.

Just ask the cold-eyed hawk

or hungry cat what good

distinction does its feathered prey.

But beneath the lowest reach

of bushes, their clutch of cheerful 

cheeps hint at what we’ve missed.

Please, then, even off-key come

sing with me, something awkward,

unrehearsed, unadorned, but true.

George Yatchisin

*an earlier version of this article was published in the Independent