Guest columnist René Colato, Speaking On Authenticity, Can An Author Write Books Outside His/Her Culture?

René Colato Lainez

I asked two children’s book authors about authenticity in books about Latinos. Then I searched through some editor’s guidelines. These are my findings.

Can An Author Write Books Outside His/Her Culture?

Amada Irma Pérez says:

I do believe someone outside the culture can write an immigrant story--they always do by doing research, etc. I don't believe it can be authentic because they are looking from the outside in. It would be impossible to include all the delicate and delicious little details that sprout from actual lived experiences. I don't like someone outside our culture writing "about us" but realize that this has been going on forever in order to learn about people of the past and from other cultures. Look at the "American Girl" series and other diary books.

An authentic story has specific details that are known only to the teller and the readers that come from the same culture. In our culture these include specific sensory images like the smell of menudo cooking, or the texture of the slime from nopalitos, the angst of culture clash, or machismo, the importance of family, the awareness of "mexican time..." It becomes even more authentic when dichos are quoted in the native language and lose too much in translation. Sometimes they cannot and should not be translated!

love and peace,

amada irma

Amada Irma Perez is the author of MY DIARY FROM HERE TO THERE and MY VERY OWN ROOM.

Blogmeister's note: Amada Perez' "My Diary from Here to There" was reviewed by La Bloga Bloguera Gina MarySol Ruiz in November 2005.

* * *

Jane Medina says on authencity in immigrant stories:

An immigration story needs to be three dimensional in order to be authentic. To say that to immigrate to another country is easy and wonderful is a lie. To say that to immigrate to another country is the worst thing that could ever happen to you is a lie too. To be genuine, an author must show the good things, the bad things, and also the ambivalent. The author needs to write a real story.

Jane Medina is the author of MY NAME IS JORGE: ON BOTH SIDES OF THE RIVER and THE DREAM ON BLANCA'S WALL.

* * *
This is what editors are looking for:

(Children’s Book Press) Multicultural stories reflect the diversity and experiences of minority and/or new immigrant communities in the United States today. We publish picture books about contemporary life in the Latino/Chicano, African American, Asian American, Native American, multi-racial and other minority and new immigrant communities. Folktales are not the focus of our current publishing program.

(Lee & Low Books) Our goal is to meet the need for books that address children of color by providing fictional stories and informational books that all children can enjoy and which promote a greater understanding of one another. We are not considering folktales and animal stories.

(Luna Rising) Our multicultural mission is to create books that work to preserve Latin American culture in the United States; books that value the strong language heritage brought to our country by children from Latin America, and books that promote bilingualism and will expand a child's cultural knowledge and perspective. We are especially interested in themes that deal with the contemporary bicultural experience of living in the United States, and stories that feature contemporary Latin American role models.

I will be attending Border Book Festival on April. This is a great festival, everyone is welcome. Here’s the Press Release …

Press Release

The Border Book Festival

P.O. Drawer T

Mesilla, NM 88046
505-523-3988
www.borderbookfestival.org

REMEMBERING WHO WE ARE

The 13th annual Border Book Festival will take place April 20-22, 2007 in Mesilla, New Mexico. New Mexico’s oldest book festival offers a time of reflection and celebration as we remember our roles as global citizens, members of the universal family

Featuring a Trade Show, readings, panels and workshops, as well as its 2nd annual Children’s and Pet parade, the festival highlights include a reading. Poets Against War, on Friday, April 21 that features the work of some of the U.S.’s top poets including Martín Espada, who also serves as Master of Ceremonies, Sherwin Bitsui, Richard Shelton, Connie Voisine, David Romo and Mexican writers Selfa Chew and Osvaldo Ogaz. Music from Son Colombiano, a Juárez cumbia group will accompany the evening.

Saturday night’s Premio Fronterizo Gala features recognized writer Sandra Cisneros, author of Caramelo, and Espada, who has been called the “Pablo Neruda of North America.” Perla Batalla from Los Angeles will offer a concert following the reading. Batalla’s powerful and distinctive voice has graced albums with Leonard Cohen and K.D. Lang. She now performs with her group who will accompany her blend of world music.

The Premio Fronterizo will be awarded to Espada. This prestigious award honors a writer for their literary body of work that transcends borders, real and imagined. The Premio celebrates the best of our contemporary writers who have done much to transform inner and outer worlds and bridge the many borders between people, real and imagined. Past recipients have included: Rudolfo Anaya, Sandra Cisneros, N. Scott Momaday, Barbara Kingsolver, Keith Wilson, Luis Rodríguez, Gary Soto, Sabine Ulibarrí, Luis Urrea and Joy Harjo among others.

Winners of the Sunshine Community Service award are Roberto Estrada from Roberto’s Restaurant and Jesús and Elsa Rodríguez from Ranchway BBQ and Mexican Restaurant. This award is given to local businesses that support the arts through their commitment to all people.

The 2nd annual children’s parade invites pets to join the festivities on Saturday morning. All children who participate in the parade receive a free book. Children’s activities include The Tent of Wonders, a family and children’s storytelling tent and activity area.

Invited children’s authors include Malín Alegria, author of Estrella’s Quinceañera, René Colato Laínez, author of Loteria and Rene, the Boy, Monica Brown, winner of the 2004 Americas Award for children’s literature, author of My Name is Celia, about Celia Cruz.

Other featured writers include Reyna Grande, author of the haunting immigrant tale, Across A Hundred Miles, Sherwin Bistui, Navajo poet and recent winner of the Whiting Poetry award, Richard Shelton, University of Arizona professor and director of the longest running prison writing workshops in the U.S.

Mexican poet Osvaldo Ogaz is Arts Director of La Escuelo de Mejoramiento para Menores in Juárez, a Juevenile prison, and Chinese Mexican poet Selfa Chew is currently a resident of El Paso working on a degree at The University of Texas at El Paso. David Dorado Romo, a true fronterizo/border citizen is the author of Ringside Seat to a Revolution: The Cultural History of Juárez and El Paso, winner of various awards. Romo the son of Mexican immigrants, is an essayist, historian, translator, and musician. Connie Voisine is a an assistant professor of creative writing at New Mexico State University and author of Cathedral of the North, winner of the 2001 AWP Prize in Poetry.

The 2007 festival will include musicians New Mexico treasure Cipriano Vigil, Johnny Flores, Johnny Whelan, Nancy Green, Afro-Mexican musician and an Irish group comprised of various members of the Deming Fusiliers including fiddler Rus Bradburd, author of Paddy on the Hardwood.

Poet, translator and historian Estevan Arellano will give a plática/talk on Ancient Agriculture accompanied by the music of Cipriano Vigil, who is composing a corrido for the festival.

Each aspect of the 2007 festival will include its accompaniment in the musical realm.

On Sunday, April 22, the festival finale will be a Música de La Gente, a musical celebration of world music. Dr. Enrique Lamadrid, musical historian and writer will be the MC. Other artists include Micaela Seidel, puppeteer, Michelle Otero, who will offer a Writing and Yoga Workshop, and Melinda Palacios and Steve Beisner, directors of Ink Byte, a Santa Barbara zine that will feature the work of creative writing workshop participants.

The BBF will be bringing various authors in to visit local schools, community centers and special audiences. If you are interested in sponsoring an author visit, please contact the BBF. Trade show applications are also available. Volunteers are needed and welcome.

For more information contact the BBF at its home base at the Cultural Center de Mesilla, PO Drawer T, Mesilla, NM 88046. 505-523-3988. www.borderbookfestival.org

Open letter to Luis Rodriguez and Pat Mora

Dear Luis y Pat ---

In many ways this letter has been a long time coming. I've sent small thank you notes, sung your praises, although I suspect I am one voice among many. You've both cast a long shadow in my life, but as I sit here writing, una sombra is not really an accurate description. Light, you have been light, incandescent in your own right, shining with the fire of your own words, and with the generosity you've shown to me and others time and time again. And because I'm a poet, and a romantic, I think I'll run with the metaphor.

You’ve both lit my way back home to myself, to who I am as a writer. For better or worse, gave me your support without hesitation, without expectation, and now I finally have some way to let others know how life changing it was. Luis, it's been over 15 years now, but I will never forget sitting in a coffee shop/bookstore on Milwaukee Avenue here in holding my breath as you read my first poetry chapbook. Amazing thing is that I'd been a few times to the Guild Complex while you were still based out of there. I didn't know you, or more importantly, you didn't know me. You met with me after I looked you up in the phone book, basically stalked you, leaving phone message after phone message with Trini. (God bless her for putting up with that!)

As I sat there, palms sweaty, heart rattling in my chest, you read through the manuscript, telling me what you liked and why, what phrases captured you, what could be sharpened. When it was all over, I told you that I wanted to be a writer. "You already are," was what you said. We never met again like that face to face, although I came to see you read several times after that. It didn't matter to me, in my mind and heart, I called you friend.

In the intervening years, we stayed in touch by e-mail, you leaving for Califas, writing more books, me continuing to establish myself. You never hesitated to produce letters of recommendation for me, for projects I hoped to fund, to offer generous quotes for chapbooks, even one recently for Sister Chicas. What is amazing is that a couple of weeks ago, before general public knew about losing the Tía Chucha space, I asked you to be a reference for me for a job I really wanted. What you wrote back was that things were a little hectic, but that you'd do what you could, not that the bookstore had to move, nor that you were incredibly stressed, busy, or hassled. Typical. And an object lesson for me.

And Doña Pat, you too, have been the victim of my stalking, responding with kindness to a stranger. Several years back, I stumbled across your masterful poem, 'Coatlicue's Rules,' was entranced by its layers, the way it blended domestic work with Aztec myth. I was struggling to find something to excerpt for a performance piece I was working on, this seemed perfect. Through a barrage of e-mails to your publisher, with sample of the work-in-progress-attached, no less, I finally secured a way to contact you.

Like the sinvergüenza I am about these things, I mailed you the whole kitchen sink. What I got in return was a lovely letter supporting what I was trying to do and rights to use the piece I wanted. When Sister Chicas was in its final stages, I wrote you again, asking you to read it, and if you could, give a book cover quote. My co-authors and I got one that moved us to tears, as well as e-mails from you that made our hearts sing about the characters, about the recipes in the book, about who which 'girl' you identified with the most. And one of my singular blessings has been your offer of friendship, inviting me to your home when I visited New Mexico.

Over lunch you provided me with sage advice about publishing, marketing, academia, as well notes when I got back to Chicago about taking care of myself as my marriage ended. That you made time for me, when you're still deep in your own work, in securing a place in the public's mind for Día de los Niños. Unbelievable. I could end this here, just saying I send my love and respect, but it seems necessary to say what I've learned.

That what we do is more than our body of work, however beautiful and deeply moving. That we stand on the shoulders of all those who've come before, that we give back because they still live in us. More importantly perhaps, that the seeds with which they live again are within us, that they can only burst forth and blossom in what we offer others. With your example before me, I can only hope to be of use.

Blogmeister's Note: La Bloga happily recognizes our expansion to six regular columnists occupying the five weekdays. Rudy Garcia has taken a sabbatical owing to requirements of his professional responsibilities as a public school educator. Lisa Alvarado now appears on Thursday, in Lisa's spot.

As La Bloga regularly reminds readers, we welcome guest columnists. Lisa joined us first as the subject of a book review, next as a guest columnist, and today as a regular La Bloga Bloguera. If you're interested in sharing an idea, a review, an experience, an event or happening, please click here and send your material along with a bio and a mugshot.

And comments! We welcome and encourage your comments! Please, share your responses to stuff you read here at La Bloga. We love the sight of comments in the morning, it reminds us of... community!

Hasta, les wachamos, and Read! Gente.

Unfolding Lives

By guest essayist Désirée Zamorano

There's a Middle Eastern grocery store that I often visit, for its ingredients and excellent produce prices. One afternoon, not too long ago, guilt forced me to shop without my young daughter.

That afternoon I stood lifting my plastic sacks of beans, rice, chiles, fava beans out of the cart and onto the counter while my daughter exhibited her usual irrepressibility, causing the cashier, to smile at her, offer her a candy, and then say in mildly accented English, "She reminds me of my own daughter."

Ah, and what is your daughter up to now, I asked.

"She was going to be a doctor. She was an excellent student. And a happy girl. Up until the day she died. Car accident."

The cashier rang up my purchases, glanced at my daughter, then turned away and began wiping her tears. I stammered something about being so sorry. I didn't bring my daughter shopping with me again. I couldn’t bear the longing in the woman’s look.

Awhile ago we were house hunting in the Pasadena area. We finally settled on a home in Altadena, but occasionally I drove through a charming neighborhood to keep tabs on a home we didn't make an offer on, one that seemed so inviting, so full of the promise of family life, with its two storeys, its gables, a child's nursery in the attic, that it seemed destined for a happy family. As time passed I noticed baby accessories then toddler toys sprouting on the front yard; I caught a glimpse of the parents playing with their children. A sense of pleasure filled me, that of a mother of toddlers watching others like herself.

More time passed and as I drove by I noticed that the father appeared ill.

Now as he pushed a stroller up the tree-lined street he was bald. This home began to hold a morbid fascination for me, and I purposefully drove up that street more frequently. I caught a glimpse of him in a wheelchair, then he disappeared from sight completely.

Oh no, I thought to myself.

A "For Sale" sign appeared. Then that family was gone.

Twenty years ago I took a train from Boston to New Haven, during a time in my life someone I loved fiercely was dying, and my life was spinning into dizzying, sickening, circles. The young lady sitting next to me reluctantly struck up a conversation, but somehow it turned to her plans, once she graduated from Brown in month.

"I am going to California. One day I'll run a major film studio," she announced matter-of-factly. "And I know exactly how I'm going to do it."

In the midst of my own grief, being sideswiped by life seemed more probable, but I was fascinated by someone whose life's plan was so clear to her.

The cashier of my produce store stopped showing up. When I asked about her, another woman said, in a pitiless voice, "She was a teacher in her own country. What was she doing here?"

Through a friend in the neighborhood I found out that that young father did indeed die, and his widow moved back east, to her family.

As I think about them now, I prefer to imagine that the cashier is a teaching assistant somewhere, if not a teacher; that the survivors of that father have found something wonderful, if not to replace him, but to enrich their lives. And that driven young woman? I like to believe that her name flashes on the screen at the beginning of the TV shows I watch, or at the end of the films I see.

So many stories if we merely open our eyes and ears to perceive them. Then fill in the blanks to suit our own needs.

Désirée Zamorano’s story “Mercy” was recently published in the Los Angeles Times’ West Magazine. She is currently at work on her novel, The Amado Women, and is delighted to be a contributor to La Bloga.

Francisco Aragón Selected for Award and Residency

Monday’s post from Daniel Olivas…

I received the following press release (by Kyle Chamberlin) regarding a friend of La Bloga, the poet Francisco Aragón. ¡Felicidades!

PRESS RELEASE: The Alliance of Artists Communities recently named poet Francisco Aragón a recipient of the Midwestern Voices and Visions award. A faculty member in the Institute for Latino Studies at the University of Notre Dame, he was one of seven award recipients from a pool of 115 nominated artists and writers.

Funded by the Joyce Foundation, the Midwestern Voices and Visions award acts as a patron for highly talented minority artists in the Great Lakes region. Aragón will spend September 2007 focusing exclusively on his writing at the residential artist community of the Anderson Center for Interdisciplinary Studies in Red Wing, Minn.

“My work at the Institute for Latino Studies consists, in large part, of being a champion and advocate of other Latino and Latina writers,” Aragón said. “The demands of the job … have made it very difficult to devote sustained, quality time to my own work. The timing of this award could not have been better. It’s very gratifying to know that there are foundations and initiatives that support artists from under-represented communities.”

Aragón directs the Letras Latinas literary program at Notre Dame and founded the Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize, the first contest in the United States to encourage emerging Latino poets. In addition to his own books, including the Puerta del Sol collection, Aragón has published in several anthologies. He currently is editing a compilation of Latino poetry scheduled to be published later this year.

◙ Paul Martínez Pompa was a recent featured poet on Shark Forum. Martínez Pompa received his B.A. from the University of Chicago and his M.F.A. from Indiana University. Last year, Momotombo Press released Martínez Pompa’s poetry chapbook, Pepper Spray. In the introduction, Luis J. Rodríguez says that his poems “sizzle like Chicago on a sticky August night—as gunfire, a woman’s moans, a child’s cry, glass breaking, a drunken man falling, and a lonely saxophone drenches notes through blast-opened windows in leaning three-story brick buildings.”

◙ In March, the University of Texas Press will release, What Wildness Is This: Women Write about the Southwest. I see that there are many favorites included in this anthology such as Denise Chávez, Pat Mora and Sandra Ramos O'Briant. The editors describe the anthology as a “collection [that] is a celebration both of the natural world and of personal story. It gathers together women's writing about their experiences in the natural world of the Southwest, from the Gulf coast of Texas to the Pacific coast of California, from the southern borderlands into the southern Great Plains and southern Rockies. Taken as a whole, these pieces demonstrate and illuminate not only the rich diversity of landscapes of the Southwest, but the extraordinary range of women's voices and women's experiences of the land as well.” Read an excerpt.

◙ Lucha Corpi tells us of a new blog dedicated to Latin American writers, El Boomeran(g).

◙ Daniel Hernandez, writing for the LA Weekly, recounts Tía Chucha’s Cafe Cultural's sad news which we've reported here on La Bloga. Pictured below are the three founders of this vibrant bookstore, cafe and community center, Enrique Sanchez, Maria Trinidad Rodriquez and Luis J. Rodriquez. Hernandez's article begins:

"In a perfect world, there would be a Tia Chucha’s Cafe Cultural on every other street corner in L.A. You’d walk in, get a coffee and a couple tamales, browse through the deep selection of novels, histories and children’s books, and maybe catch a young person working on an art project, learning son jarocho or reading their poetry. You’d get the feeling that most people who walk into Tia Chucha’s say they get when they’re there: that it’s genuinely welcoming, a place where people come to express themselves, share and be nourished. You wouldn’t want to leave.... The café is facing an eviction in February after five years of operating at an undistinguished strip mall on Glenoaks Boulevard. The owners want to bring in a laundry...."

To learn more about how to help, visit Tía Chucha’s website.

◙ If you tend to skip La Bloga on the weekends (nursing that hangover with a hot bowl of menudo, no doubt), well, shame, shame, shame. We might send Rudy (the enforcer) to your home to spank some sense into you. If you're one of those unfortunate folks, you missed Saturday's special guest bloguero, René Colato, the award-winning children’s book author. Here is the post where he reviews two new books. You should also visit his website for more information on his work. Now, send Rudy your address so he can pay a visit and impose a little discipline.

◙ My review of Inlandia: A Literary Journey through California's Inland Empire (Heyday Books / Santa Clara University), edited by Wattawa, appeared in the El Paso Times yesterday. I note, part: “No review can fully capture the breadth and spirit of this remarkable anthology. Suffice it to say that each author surprises, informs and entertains. 'Inlandia' paints a complex and compelling portrait of a region that is simultaneously beautiful and harsh, multicultural and alienating, vibrant and destructive. Without question, it is a portrait that commands our respect.”

◙ That’s all for now. Until next Monday, ¡Lea un libro!

Guest columnist: René Colato Reviews Two Children's Books.

THE IMPORTANCE OF NAMES FOR IMMIGRANT CHILDREN

René Colato

Large-scale immigration is one of the most important social developments of our time. It is a transformational process affecting families and their children. The children of immigrants make up 20 percent of all youth in the United States. When immigrant children come to the United States, they experience a variety of emotional and cognitive adjustments in the new country. They have left behind a language, a culture and a community. From one moment to another, their familiar world changes into an unknown world of uncertainties. There is only one thing that they can hold on to, their names. No matter where they go, their name will always be the same. Unfortunately, many immigrant children are forced to change their names. They go through mixed emotions of identity and in one way or another they have to cope or fight this change.

There are a number of pictures books and young adult novels that deal with this topic. In order to write about identity in immigrant children, authors need to write an acculturation story, a story where the protagonist becomes part of the mainstream culture without discarding past meaningful traditions, values, and language. Authors have to validate the children’s names, language, roots and culture. They have to make immigrant children and any other reader feel proud and happy of whom they really are.

My Name is Jorge On Both Sides of the River is a collection of 27 poems about Jorge’s immigrant experience. Jorge loves his name. He doesn’t want to be called George. Jane Medina writes,

“My name is Jorge.
I know that my name is Jorge.
But everyone calls me
George.
George.
What an ugly sound!
Like a sneeze!”
GEORGE!”

In this poem Jane Medina is validating Jorge’s name. Jorge is not a sneeze; he is a child. Even though George is the literal translation for Jorge, for the child it is another different word not related at all to his name.

In the poems Jorge goes through mixed emotions. He does not understand the new language; he is not as smart as he was in Mexico any more; he becomes the invisible child.

In one of the last poems, Jane presents a proud Jorge that even gives his teacher a lesson.

“Teacher?
George, please call me “Mrs. Roberts.”
Yes, Teacher.
George, please don’t call me “teacher!”
Yes, T- I mean, Mrs. Roberts.
You see, George, it’s a sign of respect to call me by my last name.
Yes…Mrs. Roberts.
Besides, when you say it, it sounds like “t-shirt.”
I don’t want to be turn into a t-shirt!
Mrs. Roberts?
Yes, George?
Please, call me Jorge.“

At the end of the book Jane Medina has an acculturation story. Jorge will not lose his roots. He lives and studies in the United States, but he will always be Jorge on both sides of the river.

The chapter book novel My Name is María Isabel by Alma Flor Ada, tells the story of María Isabel Salazar López. In her new classroom, there are two other María’s. The teacher decides to call her Mary López. Maria Isabel, like Jorge, finds it hard to respond to a name that does not seem like hers.

Since she does not readily recognize this new name, María Isabel is continually scolded for being inattentive; worse, her pride in being named after her grandmothers is dishonored. María Isabel is very confused. She is getting in trouble and missing out on things because she does not know who Mary López is. She does not get a part in a winter play because she does not recognize her name when the teacher is assigning roles.

How can she find a way to make her teacher see that if she loses her name, she loses the most important part of herself? Alma Flor answers this question at the end of the story. The teacher asks the student to write an essay about their greatest wish.

“When I started to write I thought my greatest wish was to make a snowman. Then I thought my greatest wish was to have a part in the Winter Pageant. But I think my greatest wish is to be called María Isabel Salazar López. When that was my name, I felt proud of being named María like papá’s mother, and Isabel like my grandmother Chabela. If I was called María Isabel Salazar López, I could listen better in class because it is easier to hear than Mary López.”

Alma Flor Ada writes a powerful story of self-identity. She is affirming María Isabel’s heritage. This is another acculturation story. María Isabel will gain another culture but she will not lose her name and native culture.

I also had mixed emotions when I came here to the United States. I also was an immigrant child. I feel very related to Jorge, and María Isabel. I was not only confused with the new language but also with my name. In Latin American countries René is a name for boys. But not here, when I came to my new classroom there was a girl named Renee. I could not understand how a girl could be named Renee. René was me, a boy. Thanks to these experiences, I wrote the picture book I am René, the Boy.

When a writer writes a story of self-identity about immigrant children or about any other child, she or he needs to take into consideration the child’s background. For immigrant children their names, culture and language are very important. These are things that they can hold on to while learning a new language and a new culture. If they lose these things, they become invisible. That is why it is very important for the writer to write an acculturation story. El que habla dos lenguas vale por dos.

Ada, Alma Flor. My Name is María Isabel. Illustrated by K. Dyble Thompson. New York: Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 1993.

Medina, Jane. My Name Is Jorge On Both Sides of the River. Illustrated by Fabricio Vanden Broeck. Honesdale: Boyds Mills Press, Inc., 1999.


Guest Columnist Bio
Known by his students as "the teacher full of stories,” René Colato Laínez is the Salvadoran author of several bilingual picture books including I Am René, the Boy/ Soy René, el niño (Piñata Books), Waiting for Papá/Esperando a papá (Piñata Books), and Playing Lotería/ El juego de la lotería (Luna Rising). His picture book I Am René, the Boy recently received the Latino Book Award for Best Bilingual Children’s Book of 2006 and a Special Recognition in the 2006 Paterson Prize for Books for Young People. Playing Lotería was named a Best Children’s Book of 2005 by Criticas Magazine and won an International Book Award for Best Cover Illustrations. His latest book, My Shoes and I is forthcoming from Boyd Mills Press. He also writes poems and short stories for the Spanish-language children’s magazine, Revista Iguana.

René Colato Laínez is a graduate of the Vermont College MFA program in Writing for Children & Young Adults. He is a teacher at Fernangeles Elementary School in Sun Valley, California. www.renecolatolainez.com


Blogmeister's Note: What a great week it's been. Thursday, we introduced guest columnist Lisa Alvarado. Lisa joins us again next Thursday, January 25. Saturday we greet René Colato, and look forward to his next column the following Saturday. Next Tuesday, in Michael Sedano's regular spot, look for guest columnist Desirée Zamorano. Several other writers have been in touch with promises of upcoming guest columns! Welcome, all our guests and may we have many happy returns. If you, too, would like to become a La Bloga guest, it's an easy process. Come up with something to say and send it here with a click!

New Stuff

Manuel Ramos

This post is a short roundup of recently released and upcoming books that sound as though they belong on my TBR list. The information is from the publishers -- I haven't read any of these yet; if you do and you want to share your review, give us a buzz.

RECENTLY RELEASED

Lengua Fresca: Latinos Writing on the Edge
Ilan Stavans and Harold Augenbraum, editors
Mariner Books - Publication Date: November, 2006
From the Houghton Mifflin website:

"Brazen, bold, edgy, and fresh: an unexpected take on Latino life, spotlighting some of the culture's most exciting innovative and emerging voices.

An entertaining, provocative and often exhilarating collection, Lengua Fresca celebrates some of the most original and cutting-edge work to emerge from the cultural collide that is Latino life in the United States. Featuring an eclectic mix of Latino writing including fiction, journalism, essays, comics, and even cultural ephemera, this unique anthology showcases literature found in unexpected places. Selections include stories from Salvador Plascencia, Christina Henriquez, and Ana Menendez; graphic pieces from the Hernandez brothers (creators of the groundbreaking comix Love and Rockets) and Lalo Alcaraz (creator of La Cucaracha); and essays by Stephanie Elizondo Griest and Dagoberto Gilb on pop culture topics such as The George Lopez Show and Taco Bell. The growth of Spanglish, the lingua franca of Hispanic communities, is highlighted as well. Compiled by the editors of the classroom favorite Growing Up Latino, Lengua Fresca offers an unconventional window on a vibrant, quickly expanding culture."

Latina Mistress by R.F. Sanchez
Floricanto Press - Publication Date: Fall, 2006
From the Floricanto website:

"This novel follows the long tradition of historical fiction in the sense that all the anecdotes told here are actually true, although the names have been changed to protect the guilty. The author gathered these very human stories through years of observation as well as personal experience and much research. The author and his wife, Helen, actually knew personally Berta, one of the tragic heroines of this novel. He also interviewed scores of males and females of both cultures attesting to the accuracy of the story. What is a young and beautiful [immigrant] to do to survive two alien worlds, the Hispanic and Anglo worlds, with their own good and evil characters? The answer is shivering in its clarity: whatever is required. This novel depicts the dramatic lives of two beautiful sisters, both [immigrants], and how some people take advantage of their weakness and their sex. In this sense this novel is a classic tale of what has always occurred with the disadvantaged all along; the powerful taking advantage of the weaker and more disadvantaged members of society."

COMING IN 2007


So Far from Allah, So Close to Mexico: Middle Eastern Immigrants in Modern Mexico
Theresa Alfaro-Velcamp
July
From the University of Texas Press website:

"Middle Eastern immigration to Mexico is one of the intriguing, untold stories in the history of both regions. In So Far from Allah, So Close to Mexico, Theresa Alfaro-Velcamp presents the fascinating findings of her extensive fieldwork in Mexico as well as in Lebanon and Syria, which included comprehensive data collection from more than 8,000 original immigration cards as well as studies of decades of legal publications and the collection of historiographies from descendents of Middle Eastern immigrants living in Mexico today.

Adding an important chapter to studies of the Arab diaspora, Alfaro-Velcamp's study shows that political instability in both Mexico and the Middle East kept many from fulfilling their dreams of returning to their countries of origin after realizing wealth in Mexico, in a few cases drawing on an imagined Phoenician past to create a class of economically powerful Lebanese Mexicans. She also explores the repercussions of xenophobia in Mexico, the effect of religious differences, and the impact of key events such as the Mexican Revolution.

Challenging the post-revolutionary definitions of mexicanidad and exposing new aspects of the often contradictory attitudes of Mexicans toward foreigners, So Far from Allah, So Close to Mexico should spark timely dialogues regarding race and ethnicity, and the essence of Mexican citizenship."

The Desert Remembers My Name: On Family and Writing
Kathleen Alcalá
April
From the University of Arizona Press website:

"We were here when the white people came, the Spaniards, then the Americans. And we will be here when they go away, [my father] would say, and it will be part of Mexico again. Thus begins a lyrical and entirely absorbing collection of personal essays by esteemed Chicana writer and gifted storyteller Kathleen Alcalá. Loosely linked by an exploration of the many meanings of family, these essays move in a broad arc from the stories and experiences of those close to her to those whom she wonders about, like Andrea Yates, a mother who drowned her children. In the process of digging and sifting, she is frequently surprised by what she unearths. Her family, she discovers, were Jewish refugees from the Spanish Inquisition who took on the trappings of Catholicism in order to survive. Although the essays are in many ways personal, they are also universal. When she examines her family history, she is encouraging us to inspect our own families, too. When she investigates a family secret, she is supporting our own search for meaning. And when she writes that being separated from our indigenous culture is a form of illiteracy, we know exactly what she means. After reading these essays, we find that we have discovered not only why Kathleen Alcalá is a writer but also why we appreciate her so much. She helps us to find ourselves."

Hurricanes and Carnivals: Essays by Chicanos, Pochos, Pachucos, Mexicanos, and Expatriates
Edited by Lee Gutkind
March
From University of Arizona website:

"In Hurricanes and Carnivals, Lee Gutkind, a pioneer in the teaching of creative nonfiction, brings together fifteen essays by Mexican, Mexican American, and Latin American writers that push the boundaries of style and form, showing that navigating truth is anything but clear-cut. Although creative nonfiction is widely thought to be an American art form, this collection proves otherwise. By blending fact and fiction, story and fantasy, history and mythology, these writers and others push the bounds of the essay to present a vision of Mexico rarely seen from this side of the border. Addressing topics that include immigration, politics, ecology, violence, family, and sexuality, they take literary license on a whirlwind adventure. C. M. Mayo shows us Mexico City as seen through the eyes of her pug, Picadou; Juan Villoro examines modern Mexico through the lens of demography; Homero Aridjis uses the plight of nesting sea turtles to document a slowly changing Mexican attitude toward natural resources; and Sam Quinones documents the decline of beauty-queen addiction in Mazatlán and tells us about the flower festivals where, according to lore, only two things matter: hurricanes and carnivals. For readers interested in a literary view of contemporary Mexico, as well as students of the creative nonfiction genre, this volume is essential."

The Wind Shifts: New Latino Poetry
Edited by Francisco Aragón
April
From the University of Arizona website:

"The Wind Shifts gathers, for the first time, works by emerging Latino and Latina poets in the twenty-first century. Here readers will discover 25 new and vital voices including Naomi Ayala, Richard Blanco, David Dominguez, Gina Franco, Sheryl Luna, and Urayoán Noel. All of the writers included in this volume have published poetry in well-regarded literary magazines. Some have published chapbooks or first collections, but none had published more than one book at the time of selection. This results in a freshness that energizes the enterprise."

A Question of Gravity and Light
Blas Falconer
April
From the University of Arizona website:

"As a gay man who embraces his Puerto Rican heritage, Falconer stands at an edge of American society, and there is the tension of borders in his work: borders between peoples and nations as well as the less visible, more porous and deceptive borders between family members and lovers. There is not one point of view in these poems but many. It is the quality of their observational power that binds them together. Whether the setting is the hospital room of his dying grandfather or his own backyard teeming with garrulous tree frogs, Falconer transports us to the scene. It is easy for us to imagine what he sees. And we care, deeply, just as he does."

Raven Eye
Margo Tamez
March
From the University of Arizona website:

"Written from thirteen years of journals, psychic and earthly, this poetry maps an uprising of a borderland indigenous woman battling forces of racism and sexual violence against Native women and children. This lyric collection breaks new ground, skillfully revealing an unseen narrative of resistance on the Mexico-U.S. border. A powerful blend of the oral and long poem, and speaking into the realm of global movements, these poems explore environmental injustice, sexualized violence, and indigenous women's lives."

Plenty of good reading.

Remember that La Bloga is open seven days a week. Come back this weekend and enjoy lively posts by guest contributors. We are excited about all the new voices here at La Bloga. It's a fresh year with fresh blood. And it's all good.

Later.

Guest Columnist: Lisa Alvarado

[Note: Lisa Alvarado's (with two co-writers) novel, Sister Chicas, was reviewed by La Bloga in May 2006. It's a pleasure to welcome Lisa as our Thursday guest.]

Chicana.

It's a specific and singular description, it is a political distinction, un sabor especíal.

My story has its roots in Mexíco, transgressing the border, morphing into a passion play in America. But I'm not American in the quintessential sense, certainly not Anglo. This story is about hunger, longing for a mythological homeland, in both Mexíco y la tierra Azteca, hidden en un libro de papel picado. This article is about an identity split at the roots, straddling the border, an identity that is fed by Aztlán--southwest desert, standing under an open sky on at a crossroad in rural Oaxaca, and finally by urban asphalt in Chicago.

Like so many second generation children of immigrants, I was raised to be 'successful'—to speak English---English first, English only. I lived in a world of hot dogs and carnitas, cerveza and yard parties, comic books and prime time TV, but there was always something missing. My parents spoke English only in our house, English with a vengeance. And they clucked their tongues at me when I tried to talk in Spanish con unos de mis abuelitos.

And for all the effort to be upright and middle American, we couldn't pull it off---we loved our music too loud, shimmied too much when we danced, cooked with epazote and savored chorizo and nopales. We never fit, we never meshed, and somehow I knew there was an answer somewhere in the geography of my grandparents' faces, las caras ancianas, las caras índias. But I needed words as the key, I needed what Spanish I could find, wherever I could find it.

When I was a teenager, I snuck off and learned what snatches of phrases and sentences I could from my grandfather, glimpsed into a family history rarely talked about in a mix of English and Spanish. My parents chided me, teased me. After all, we were an American family living in our Chicago northwest-side two-flat. What mattered was that we were here and we were making the good life happen. I never argued with my parents about their choices, they worked too hard to pay the mortgage on that red brick with the driveway, worked too hard to feed us, clothe us, send us to Catholic school. Instead, I developed a secret life, I thought that my guilty pleasure, these talks on the sly would satisfy me. Little did I know that the opposite would be true.

I said before that this was a story about mythology, and it was, it is. I romanced mis raices Mejícanas y Chicanas, drew strength from them. Before I became a writer, I spent years as a campus activist, agitator, union organizer. As a writer, however, I began to find flesh for the bones, the juicy, lush curves of language, of history. But somehow, it was a step removed, real and unreal like the state between dreaming and wakefulness.

Years passed and I found that the verdant landscape of language had seduced me. I became a writer, hoping to touch the hem of the skirt of history and ancestry. Mexíco gave me birth, in blood and pain, in ecstatic and arcane knowledge, in joy and sorrow, but I live some where else, beyond Mexíco, somewhere even beyond Aztlán, although I feel its tethers, too. As an adult I lived in D.F., traveled in Oaxaca, visited New Mexico and Colorado, but there was always something missing, something I now know I had to find in myself, in Chicago, something about heritage and identity that is both seeded in the bones and something I choose to create every day.

Now, at mid-life, I am more at peace with the way these worlds have collided, perished and continue to be reborn in me. I speak what Spanish I can without shame or guilt, I dig deep for the things that nurture and fill me, here in Chicago, and in the real and imagined sojourns to a place called home.

Reclamation

In this dream,

I am whole.

I am no longer

saving other people's stories,

scavenging their words,

sifting through their remains.

In this dream,

My fingers run

through Frida's hair.

In her hair I plait dark flowers

the color of blood.

She tells me

the jaguar comes to bring me power,

the medicine to end this pain,

the food for this hunger.

In this dream,

I have made magic from the mud of the Rio Grande.

Wrapped in corridas and ranchero music

are spells and incantations

to undo the age of forgetfulness and indoctrination.

In this dream,

I have a lover whose face is stone,

ancient as a temple marker.

His mouth is full,

his eyes half-closed.

He whispers:

Come to me, mi índia,

mi pequeña perdida.

Remember who you are,

Remember who you are.

Mexico: ninety days and counting or You really can't go home again

iridescent electric pink

bougainvillea

line the boulevard

next to where

someone's pissing

right in the middle of the day

yesterday's pozole

slick and greenish

stains the street

around the corner

from the Monument to the Revolution

there a golden angel

looks down on prostitutes

with imitation Chanel bags

and taxis are

green and yellow beetles

carrying sour businessmen

who ask the teenage pimps

how much

the cross-eyed

boy in the Lucha Libre mask

stares at me

and runs past barefoot beggar children

in clown makeup

but the clowns never smile

and they're on every corner

they block the path

of women gong to work

wearing not quite

put together

cheap copies

of clothes they saw

in Vogue or Cosmo

but nothing really matches

they always wear

white heels

or a belt with a giant buckle

and the requisite miniskirt that makes

their ass stand out

to that the pesero driver

with one gold tooth

always holds their change for just that extra second

I don't get the shits

but baby-faced doctors run IV's in both arms

for migraines and food poisoning

the fat man who served me

chiles rellenos

laughed at my buzz cut

and winked

when he slid me the plate

outside the ER

stand private guards

with tight lips and clenched pistols

working their job

they scowl at the howling sushi delivery boys

on motorbikes

who rush to the bar for a quick one

in between deliveries

inside the Museo Bellas Artes

I see the outstretched arms of Rivera's peasants

and refuse the outstretched arms

of the Indian sitting at the bus stop

I clutch my postcards

with Frida's self-portraits

the one with red dress

the one with the hammer and sickle body brace

down the street from my favorite helado stand

the one with flavors like guayaba, mango, cajeta

a man grabs my crotch to see

if I have any balls

I almost knock over

a tianguis stand of charro Barbies

the seller's daughter

a girl with an olive oval face

blinks her long lashes in disbelief

What is this American doing here?

Lisa Alvarado is a poet, performer, and installation artist, focusing on identity, spirit, and the body. She is the founder of La Onda Negra Press, and is author of Reclamo and The Housekeeper’s Diary, originally a book of poetry and now a one-woman performance, and is the recipient of grants from the Department of Cultural Affairs, The NEA, and the Ragdale Foundation.

The Housekeeper’s Diary, which dealt with her experiences as a domestic for one of Chicago’s wealthiest families, premiered nationally in Washington, D.C. in 2001, as a co-production with Sol y Soul and Gala Hispanic Theater. She has performed through out the U.S. and in Ajijic, Jalisco in Mexico. Lisa and her work have been featured in the Reader, The Chicago Tribune, Latino USA/National Public Radio, and Public Radio International. Her writing also received critical acclaim from such authors as Luis J. Rodriguez, who wrote..."...she is a fine poet, able to addresses deep concerns in crisp, trenchant language...The Housekeeper’s Diary...casts its spell on you...You will never see domestic work with the same eyes....”

Lisa has also completed an ambitious trilogy of performance pieces, REM/Memory, Bury The Bones and Resurgam, whose themes are the culture of violence, popular culture and personal redemption.

Her first novel, Sister Chicas (written with Ann Hagman Cardinal and Jane Alberdeston) has been bought by Penguin/NAL, and was released in April 2006. Sister Chicas is a coming of age story concerning the lives of three young Latinas living in Chicago.

Lisa: Welcome to La Bloga. La Bloguera and Los Blogueros look forward to your second column, next Thursday (January 25).


Please join us on Saturday, January 20, for a guest columnist. It will feature children's literature.

Don't hold back, gente. La Bloga welcomes guest columnists. Share your ideas, literary pieces, cultural observations, reviews and critiques. Don't hold back, hace clik aqui.