_Faith and Fat Chances_: Interview with Author Carla Trujillo

Author, Carla Trujillo has just published her second novel, Faith and Fat Chances:  A Novel (Curbstone Books/NorthwesternUniversity Press) to much acclaim.  Chicana writer, Sandra Cisneros, writes: “Carla Trujillo writes with corazon . . . her work is savvy, tough, and laugh-out-loud funny.  This is the voice of the new millennium.”  Ellery Washington, Associate Professor at The Pratt Institute writes, “Trujillo’s voice is at once tender and true, epic and poetic.  She seamlessly weaves together the essential elements of great storytelling—a timeless location and unforgettable characters forced into increasingly complex situations.” This is a novel about familia that goes beyond blood relations—it’s about a community coming together to support and love each other. 

And we are very fortunate to have Carla Trujillo with us today. 

Carla Trujillo!  Thank you so much for being with us on La Bloga to talk about your new novel, Faith and Fat Chances.  The novel is set in New Mexico, where you were born, and its focus is on a hardscrabble community on the outskirts of Santa Fe, called “Dogtown” whose residents and their land are being threatened by a developer. The Los Alamos Nuclear Lab and the environmental damage it has caused is also here.  You so deftly take these big topics and place them within a struggling and diverse community of people—a well-wrought ensemble of characters who grapple with their own demons as well as each other.  As well, two of the characters are lesbian and, refreshingly, their sexual orientation is really not an issue here.  The residents of “Dogtown” are diverse and quite colorful.  It’s a story of familia, of brother and sister strife, of church and state.  So much here!  Let’s get started. 

First—how did this novel come about?

The novel is totally fiction and I had a great time writing it. I would say, though, that a partial impetus for the story came from my grandmother having to give up her little corner grocery store through eminent domain—a store that had fed all 7 of her children for decades. Another impetus came from encountering an abnormal number of New Mexican women who developed thyroid cancer (including my mother), at a young age, along with my grandfather dying of leukemia at the age of 39. I also wondered, when I visited cemeteries throughout the state, how so many (non-veteran) men and women might have died in their prime during the 1940’s. From the research I’ve conducted, the cancer and early deaths may have resulted from the deadly down winds of nuclear testing during the construction of the atomic bomb. I didn’t plan to write this kind of story, but I think it exemplifies some of the things I care about. Paradoxically, I found myself injecting humor into the narrative. Maybe it comes from observing my family—laughing alongside hardship.

Author, Carla Trujillo

What kind of research did you conduct for the novel?  For example, I’m thinking of the two issues of eminent domain and the environment (damaged by nuclear sites) in the novel.

Some of the research came from consulting books and research articles that addressed the impact of deadly down winds from nuclear testing. Other research came from visiting the Atomic Energy Museum in Albuquerque, N.M. which had a surprising amount of information regarding the destruction of lives by the bombs in Japan, and the damage to the environment and deaths of people and animals who lived downwind in New Mexico,. I also spoke with women who had developed thyroid cancer (which was only anecdotal research), and spoke with a nuclear scientist who had worked in a National Lab. Lastly, I toured various cemeteries throughout the state. Like a lot of classified research, most is unavailable to the public, but based on all these data points, I felt I had enough information to create these story lines.

My research on eminent domain also came from consulting various magazines and newspapers, along with my grandmother’s own personal experience. I also spoke with a lawyer who assisted me with technical information associated with urban development.

I loved the character of Pepa, the curandera.  Tell us about how she was developed. 

The main character, Pepa Romero, a feisty curandera who drinks, smokes, and cusses, anchors the story and guides us through a world of people living on the poor side of Santa Fe, all of whom are facing a life-changing dilemma. Pepa’s character came to me as a “fictional sister” of the tough-talking grandmother in my first novel, What Night Brings. She was also a bit of an amalgam of some the other women in New Mexico I recall at the local Bingo Hall I went to as a child with my grandmother--women who gossiped, smoked, and could eagle-eye 10 bingo cards all at once.

All of the characters, even the antagonists like Gilbert or the protagonists like Tala, are not flat characters.  You round them out with positive and negative characteristics.  How do you go about developing character?

I like character driven novels and believe if you have (in the words of Dorothy Allison), “a goddamn, good ass character,” you can write about anything. I have been wonderfully influenced by Sandra Cisneros and many other teachers I’ve worked with on doing whatever I can to create complex characters, an attempt, I think of trying to emulate how most people are in this world. If I feel a character is flat I’ve got to figure out how to “inhabit” them and look at things like anger, joy, shame, and fear. Here I express my appreciation to (the now deceased) Gill Dennis from the Squaw Valley Writers Conference for teaching me this.

Carla Trujillo in San Antonio, TX-- signing one of her books for Dr. Norma Alarcon (standing left)

Did you know how this novel was going to end before you finished it?  Some authors say they know the ending before they even write.  How is it for you?

Just like my first novel, What Night Brings, and this one, too, I honestly did not know how everything would end. I did want the “good-guys” to win, but wasn’t sure how I’d make it happen. I also had a goal of illustrating how complicated things can become when poor people are offered money to leave their homes. Lastly, I don’t outline my novels so that I might fully embrace the freedom of creativity without being burdened by pre-planning. Since everyone is different, I encourage writers to do whatever works best.

It is quite a feat to navigate an ensemble as you did with all these characters.  What’s your secret?

In addition to Pepa Romero, the irreverent curandera who anchors the story, the novel needed other voices to represent the community impacted by the proposed development and the key players who seek to destroy it. Delving into the hearts and minds of several different characters was challenging but fun. I needed to fully embrace each person’s complexity and visualize who they were, what they cared about, and how they spoke and moved through the world.

Who was your favorite character as you wrote the novel?  Why?

Pepa is my favorite character. She is a gifted healer but doesn’t seem to possess a giant ego about it. She is also feisty, strong, tough, and funny—a true joy to write. I hope readers will enjoy her, too.

Writer/Artist, Anel Flores with author, Dr. Carla Trujillo at a reading at University of Texas, Rio Grande Valley

Why did you call the community “Dogtown?”

Many poor communities on the outskirts of cities are often referred to as Dogtowns. There is one in Oakland, CA, and a “Dog Patch” in San Francisco. Additionally, there are lots of dogs running around my fictional community in Santa Fe, which partially influences the name.

What do you hope readers will take with them from reading your novel?

I had a great time writing it and would really love it if readers are entertained by the characters and enjoy the story. I also hope readers will bring their own knowledge and insights to what I’ve created regarding issues of gentrification, family discord, and fallout from nuclear testing; this in conjunction with the spiritual subtext running throughout the story.   

Is there anything else you’d like to tell our La Bloga readers?

I appreciate your (and La Bloga’s) support of my work. I would also love people to review Faith and Fat Chances, if so inclined.

Regarding new developments, I’ve drafted a new novel and hope that it, too, will see the light of day. Readers can keep an eye on new developments, readings, and more at: Carla Trujillo.net.

Thank you so much, Carla!

Carla Trujillo -- BIO:

Carla Trujillo was born to a working class family in New Mexico and grew up in Northern California. Her extended family and roots are New Mexican (Chicana). She received her B.S. degree in Human Development from UC Davis, and her M.S. and Ph.D. degrees in Educational Psychology from the University of Wisconsin, Madison. Her dissertation focused on assessing differential treatment of underrepresented students in college classrooms. She is the editor of two anthologies, Living Chicana Theory (Third Woman Press), and Chicana Lesbians: The Girls Our Mothers Warned Us About (Third Woman Press), winner of a Lambda Book Award and the Out/Write Vanguard Award. Her first novel, What Night Brings (Curbstone Press 2003), won the Miguel Marmol prize focusing on human rights. What Night Brings also won the Paterson Fiction Prize, the Latino Literary Foundation Latino Book Award, Bronze Medal from Foreword Magazine, Honorable Mention for the Gustavus Meyers Books Award, and was a LAMBDA Book Award finalist. Her latest novel, Faith and Fat Chances (CurbstoneBooks/Northwestern University Press 2015), was a finalist for the  PEN-Bellwether Prize for Socially Engaged Fiction.  Carla has also written various articles on identity, race, gender, and higher education. She works as the Assistant Dean for the Graduate Diversity Program at U.C. Berkeley and has focused some of her recent activities on improving the work and classroom climate using Interactive Theater. She has lectured in Ethnic Studies at U.C. Berkeley and Mills College, and in Women’s Studies at S.F. State University. She has also taught fiction for the Sandra Cisneros Macondo Writers Program and the Lambda Literary Foundation’s Emerging Writers Program.

Guest Columns for a November Saturday: Texas Book Fest. Reviewing Gracias by Villanueva.

Why I Didn’t Go to the Texas Book Festival

By mónica teresa ortiz

I live in Austin, where the annual Texas Book Festival is held. I applaud the organizers of the festival. Putting together such a large and free public event is not an easy task. Promoting books and literature is a necessary undertaking in a state where sports franchises are worth millions of dollars but we can cut funding for schools.

I was asked to look out for new books by women for our raza readers, so with due diligence, I searched the schedule and planned out what panels might interest me and also what filled my mission. There were 300 authors at the 20th anniversary event, held during October 17th-18th in downtown Austin. I could identify by name, just 30 writers of the 300, and 25 of the writers I had read or heard of, are writers of color. I admit fault for not reading more modern writers and thus not recognizing more names at the festival, but I do make it a habit to avoid falling into the white as default area known as US literature.

There were Latinx writers and poets speaking at the festival whose names I did recognize and have read, including Carmen Tafolla, Kirstin Valdez Quade, Antonio Ruiz-Camacho, Tomás Q. Morin, Luis Alberto Urrea, Gwendolyn Zepeda, and well of course… Sandra Cisneros. I looked forward to hearing Margaret Atwood, Gregory Pardlo, and Saeed Jones. And of course, I would have liked there to be even more Latinx writers and poets represented. Poets Enrique Fierro and Ida Vitale, two of the Generation 45 poets from Uruguay, live in Austin. Ida recently won the Queen Sofia Poetry Award, which is widely considered the Cervantes Award of Poetry. Both are incredibly influential and important Latin American poets. Even pop culture site Remezcla put together a list of emerging Latinx poets, a list that honorably mentioned Rigoberto González but well, we all know he is canon. Surprisingly, he hasn’t been to Austin to read.

Perhaps I am a little bit more sensitive in 2015. Perhaps Kenneth Goldsmith’s reading of “The Body of Michael Brown” as conceptual poetry made me more sensitive. Perhaps Vanessa Place tweeting quotes from Gone with the Wind made me more sensitive. Perhaps Red Hen Press’s Kate Gale’s now vanished Huffington Post op-ed made me more sensitive. Perhaps Janet Maslin’s reading list in the New York Times made me sensitive. Michael Derrick Hudson definitely made me more sensitive - if not outright pissed off.

When I woke up on the Saturday morning of the Texas Book Festival, I could not be certain which emotion it was. Saturday was my one day off work, and all I wanted to do was listen to Johnny Cash and read poetry in the grass. I wanted to go and support and listen to fellow latinx writers and poets, as well as the other writers of color who would be presenting, who would be visible at the Texas Book Festival.

But as I dressed and prepared for the day, as I walked out of my house, I sat inside my car. Johnny Cash was already playing on my radio, and I decided not to go. I decided not to go to the Texas Book Festival. I didn’t make Sandra Cisneros’ appearance inside the Central Presbyterian Church. Her memoir, “A House of My Own; Stories of My Life,” came out recently. I saw Cisneros speak 13 years ago, at the first Texas Book Festival I attended in 2002, also her first appearance there since Laura Bush started it in 1995. Cisneros was still living in the purple house in San Anto, and had just published “Caramelo.” She appeared on a panel with two other legacies, Jimmy Santiago Baca and Dagoberto Gilb, on a panel titled “At the Crossroads: Mexican-American Literature.” Witnessing three of the biggest living influences on Chicanx literature in a room together did not disappoint.

But in 2015, I want more. I want book festivals, AWP, publishers and presses to reflect the changing demographics of US literature. One of the richest literary prizes in the world, the Kirkus Prize, announced on the eve of the Texas Book Festival in a ceremony in Austin, was awarded to Hanya Yanagihara, Ta- Nehisi Coates, and Pam Muñoz Ryan. Yanagihara and Coates are on the finalist list for 2015 National Book of the Year awards. Hell, check out Digest, Pardlo’s Pulitzer Prize winning collection of poems. Writers of color are putting out really good shit right now. We can do this.

Want to read some recent great books by latinxs? Try Night at the Fiestas by Kirstin Valdez Quade. Ire’ne Lara Silva’s new book Blood Sugar Canto will be out soon or check out Ana of California by Andi Teran, a modern version of Anne of Green Gables.

By the time I turned the key in the ignition, it was 2:30 pm. I didn’t want to squeeze inside the church, even though I wanted to hear La Sandra. I had already read a great interview of "the patron saint of chingonas" written by Tina Vasquez. The Witliff Collections at Texas State University in nearby San Marcos recently acquired Cisneros’ archives. Besides the Benson Latin American Library, Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s archives also recently arrived at the University of Texas as part of the Harry Ransom Center. I enjoy access to a lot of great latinx literature. And I had San Anto native and 2016 Texas poet laureate Laurie Anne Guerrero’s third book of poetry A Crown for Gumecindo (published by Texas based Aztlan Press) in the back seat of my car.

It was 82 degrees outside. I called the day a wash and skipped the book festival because I live in Austin, where the sun is almost perpetual and where I took that beautiful book of sonnets (with incredible illustrations by Maceo Montoya), and found a quiet spot underneath a sycamore tree in a park near my house, and celebrated Texas and books by reading Guerrero, one of my favorite contemporary poets. I called the day a wash because I don’t want “second class houses, second class schools,” or second class status in literature. I believe “the world is big...and it’s full of folks like me who are/Black, Yellow, Beige, and Brown.” And we are writing some really really good shit. The author list of latinxs at the 2015 Texas Book Festival demonstrated a portion of that. But we want more. After all, “what do you think I got to lose?" Nothing. We have nothing to lose. We aren't going anywhere. We ain’t "the one [that] will have the blues... not [us]-- Wait and see!"

Mónica Teresa Ortiz was born and raised in Texas.

Her work has appeared in Bombay Gin, Sinister Wisdom, Huizache, Pilgrimage Magazine, Paso del Rio Grande del Norte, Borderlands, As/US, The Texas Observer, Autostraddle, and Black Girl Dangerous.

A two-time Andres Montoya Letras Latinxs Poetry prize finalist, Ortiz is the Poetry Editor for Raspa Magazine, a Queer Latinx literary art journal

Editor's Note: La Bloga's Michael Sedano reviewed Gracias in April  2015. It's a pleasure to share another reader's enthusiasm for the wonderful collection by novelist poet Alma Luz Villanueva.
Review of Gracias New Poems by Alma Luz Villanueva. Wings Press, 2015

By Stephanie Little Wolf

Through songs and memories, the story of life and dreams, the laughter of children and whispers of Elders, the ancient cycles of life and the language of our ancestors live vividly in this collection of bright and colorful poems. Hopi language titles, Mayan terms, Yaqui grandmother, singing flowers twirl like skirts through my inner landscape as I reopen Alma’s newest journey of poetry with its cover of dancing skeletons, and a moon and cactus looking on.

This desert is alive, these skeletons juggle stars and flowers and knives, the sky is a deep and dreamlike blue, at their feet is a skeleton dog and a grave in the sandy desert.

This is La Vida at its most intense truth. This is a woman who meets her true self in dreams and words and in the journey.

Randomly, I open to the poem, Tuwanasavi, a Hopi word meaning Center of the Universe. I take a deep breath. Como No!! The poem begins with

Today I am happy for no
reason
I dance for no reason
I breathe for no
Reason
I sing for
no reason today
Tuwanasavi, Center of the Universe.

Later in the poem Alma writes

These two feet remember baby feet.
These two hands remember baby hands
This joy remembers baby joy

and instantly the poem reminds me of the Energy Child spirit character who lovingly haunts Alma’s recent novel, Song Of The Golden Scorpion.

Indeed, several poems reveal the novel’s coming characters and how they were born, how they will live, their future brewing and dreaming. After reading the novel, it’s a slice of magic, Alma showing us how these characters came to her.

This hidden essence of the sacred dance is characteristic of Alma’s process as she takes us to this spacious present moment of childhood and elder in the same instant. I find it is a joyous place where we all can meet. For when we are in the center of who we really are, in the present moment, where we are joy, as we live through all ages and times, then we are the light that attracts the light of all.

There is no reason necessary, no need to defend our beingness. This joy is our birthright! This poem brings us to that center; indeed, the book brings us to that center, and speaks to the words of Crazy Horse perfectly:

Upon suffering beyond suffering; the red nation shall rise again and it shall be a blessing for a sick world. A world filled with broken promises, selfishness and separations. A world longing for light again. I see a time of seven generations when all the colors of mankind will gather under the sacred tree of life and the whole earth will become one circle again. In that day there will be those among the Lakota who will carry this knowledge and understanding of unity among all living things, and the young white ones will come to those of my people and asks for this wisdom. I, salute the light within your eyes where the whole universe dwells. For when you are at that center within you and I am at that place within me, we shall be as one.

This is where the poems in this book really reside, in that sacred center where we can all know each other truly. They are living truth poems that draw us into them, poems as living entities, whether it be kicking and fighting or willingly and seeking – we must come to the center to live in this book.

As the ageless eternal beings we are, we follow the scent of roses and the soft brush of eagle feathers. They beckon us to become the true human beings we are destined to be, lonely and abandoned, or cherished and loved.

We can slip into this dream as whirlwind warriors chasing the sun and experience the center, a life revealed in her words and traveling; we can journey back to her Yaqui roots, to her grandmother’s beautiful Mexico.

Alma’s poems are songs of grace, the grace of flowers, the grace of music, the grace of children raised, and the mix of cultures – they reveal a belief in herself that is volcanic.

As Alma writes, she is the Woman who found her words, her books of poetry, novels, stories. She asks herself, What I must sacrifice to meet the beloved stranger, my true self?

One of my favorite passages is Everywhere / The beauty of goodbye as Alma writes of traveling from her casita in Mexico to Costa Rica, as her memories tell the stories of her life, we find such beauty in the moment of remembrance, this poem brings us along, lifting, centering always as:

Light leaps into darkness,
Glittering with furious
Life, a salmon remembering
Her way home, full
Of fury, memory, birth. This
Is how we live, I think,
Waiting for my plane in Mexico,
If we are fully awake,
Darkness into light (I glance down from the shuttle, small Ribbon of light, pure white
Crane sipping sun light, a man
Sitting, dark earth, Awake, witnessing The fury of Beauty)

Now we are captured by Alma’s light, sucked into the vortex of languages and meanings and the joy that brings us to the center of the universe.

The poems are earthy, a noisy street of celebration, a plane lifting into the sky, immediate, and sudden, inviting us to be who we truly are, to meet our stranger within, to see everything as beauty before us.

It’s a gift to read this treasure of images so beautifully preserved as poetry; it’s a musical journey, where native worlds sing in their own tongues and flowers are abundant and yet name horrors.

I love the perspective, the reality of our world – it’s an invitation to the dance of life and the sharing of lifetimes. It’s a challenge and inspiration to come to our own dream. It is how we live, or should, this book of poems is a true sharing!

The Cycle has begun, I feel it. This is how we’ll know each other in the sixth world, Nakwach!

Thank you Alma Luz, gracias por las poemas y la vida!!


Stephanie Little Wolf is a Lakota woman, and a a writer who has lived in Alaska for many years with her therapeutic sled dogs.

She raises beautiful Alaskan Village dogs for joy and for healing in her youth at risk outreach program, mushing through the Alaskan snow.

Stephanie works with the Alaska Native Population, and has been a foster parent for many years.

In addition to her work with dogs and kids, Stephanie is a singer-songwriter and poet.  She also is an artist and sculpts wool with a needle felting technique.

November Musings 2015

Sunset in Santa Barbara

Thank you to everyone who responded to my post last month, The Case of the Missing Quilts. Fibervision was happy to recover their art. The art show's management did not need to pay the $5000 finder's fee as the problem was solved by UPS, who received the missing pallet traveled and delivered it back to Fibervision. Read all about the case on LaBloga, along with the sample ekphrastic artwork and two of my poems that inspired the fiber artists. This will not be the last time I mention the show. Fibervision is currently working on a pinning down a date to showcase the fiber arts inspired by Santa Barbara Sunday Poets. There will be a reading, art show, reception, and overall party next April in Santa Barbara. The show will be up for two months in April and May of 2016. Stay tuned for the poetry month party update.

My friend Kat made me a triple chocolate mousse cake. 

It's my birthday on Monday. As I contemplate being a woman who is over forty. I feel very blessed for each day. Although I know I will not succumb to the rare disease that took my mother at age 44, I am grateful for each moment. It took almost a decade, but at some point, I decided to start living by her joyous example. Breaking my leg last year slowed me down a bit, but I am fully recovered and only have one scar on my leg and some minor fears of falling. With a little help from my friends, I will get over these fears. If I have any friends in La Blogasphere who would like to help celebrate my birthday, I ask that you support Reyna Grande's ToyFund. Read more about the children of her hometown, Iguala, and see if you'd like to brighten a child's Christmas. 

 

A CMAS class at the University of Texas

I kicked off my birthday month with a visit to the University of Texas in Austin. I spoke to the Center of Mexican American Studies (CMAS) and the next day visited a class in the department that was teaching my novel, Ocotillo Dreams. It was nice to go back to that book, but it also made me realize it's time I finish a new book. Although Ocotillo Dreams was supposed to be a historical novel, the issues about immigration continue to be relevant. The students in Marcel Brousseau's class asked great questions. The bell rang and we ended the class visit with an Austin style selfie.

 

Latina Authors and Their Muses 

My last bit of November musings is the book, Latina Authors and Their Muses, available now in digital and paperback. This book interviews 40 Latina authors. Each interview runs 6-7 pages. I'm honored to be included in this volume. In two weeks, I will post an interview with the anthology's editor, Mayra Calvini. This book is unique among anthologies, features an array of amazing women, including its editor. Sure, I'm biased. 

Iris de Anda, Karineh Mahdessian, Alex Hohmann, Melinda Palacio, and Luivette Resto
(not pictured but present and a featured reader last week at Avenue 50 Studio, Jessica Ceballos)

Speaking of amazing women. I had the wonderful opportunity to be amongst my tribe of fierce poets at Avenue 50 Studio last Sunday for La Palabra's monthly reading. Tomorrow, Avenue 50 Studio in Highland Park offers another unforgettable evening of poetry with Poets Laureate de Califas SF y LA, Luis J. Rodriguez and Alejandro Murguia, November 21 at 6pm. 

Entrevista con Víctor Fuentes

Autor del estudio biográfico César Chávez y La Unión

publicado por Floricanto Press:

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L.G.: ¿Qué lo motivó a escribir sobre César Chávez?

 

V.F.: Entre 1972 y 1973, iba de voluntario a la sede de la Unión, La Paz, para ayudarles con la edición de su periódico, El Malcriado en Español. Pasado algún tiempo César Chávez accedió a que escribiera su biografía en español, Nos reunimos en alguna ocasión, pero, él, frecuentemene, tenía que salir de viaje y yo volver a la Universidad. No pasé del primer capítulo.

Era una deuda pendiente que, pasado tantos años, he querido saldar, vista, además, la falta de libros sobre su persona y labor en español, de una página de la historia del país de tanta relevancia. Igualmente, como miembro numerario de la Academia Norteameriana de Lengua Española, me interesa ocuparme de temas del país. Tengo otro libro, publicado por la Academia, pero poco conocido, California hispano-mexicana: una nueva narración histórico-cultural, también de este año.

L.G.: ¿Encontró algún obstáculo para publicar su estudio sobre Chávez?

V.F.: No fue fácil encontrar editor, dado que, aunque se dice que somos 50 millones de hablantes de español en los Estados Unidos, apenas hay, si alguna, editoriales, interesdas en publicar libros de ensayos y de literatura, de valor, en español, y escritos  aquí.Tuve la oportunidad de dar con Floricanto Press, cuyo nombre ya atrajo mi atención.

L.G.: ¿Qué aporta su libro al conocimiento de una figura y unos hechos tan estudiados?

V.F.: Mi libro aporta el hecho de escribir en español, con cierta profundidadd y perspectiva teórica, una tan importante gesta laboral, vivida en gran parte en español. También ahonda en un retrato de la persona de César, en español y, de cierta orginalidad. Asimismo sale al paso de algún libro publicado últimamente que trata de rebajar el gran prestigio nacional de César Chávez, achacando que, en gran parte, la Unión no llegó a ser un poderoso sindicato nacional se debe a su persona y no al gran reflujo del sindicalismo que ha vivido el país desde los años 80 y en Era Reagan.

El libro en su último capítulo se alarga sobre la vida y obra de César Chávez en sus últimos 15 años y la labor de la Unión en tales fechas, Algo que los libros recientes suelen dejar de lado.

L.G.: ¿Qué significa la Huelga de la Uva y la figura de Chávez para las nuevas generaciones de obreros migrantes?

V.F.: César Chávez y el gran triunfo de la Uva, todo lo logrado por él y los trabajadores campesinos, ha quedado cifrado en su grito de "Sí Se Puede", actualmente universalizado en la voz de todas las personas o grupos que luchan contra injusticiass aparentemente insuperables. César y la Unión de los Campesinos, son todo un vivísimo ejemplo para los trabajadores migrantes e inmigrantes, a quien la Unión y la labor y persona de César,a los trabajadores del campo, tan mal tratados y explotados, les dieron conciencia de su dignidad  y la de su trabajo.

L.G.: ¿Qué entienden los jóvenes inmigrantes de hoy por “Sí se puede”?

V.F.: Para los jóvenes inmigrantes el "Si Se Puede" es toda una esperanza de todo lo que pueden alcanzar, si entregan su vida a ello.

Señala el libro también la gran labor que en el movimiento laboral y politico del país han tenido tantas de las persoans que se formaron César y en el seno de la Uunión.

L.G.: ¿Impactó de algún modo su circunstancia personal, como español que escapaba el franquismo, la voluntad de integrarse al Movimiento e identificarse con su lucha—o fue un interés puramente académico?

V.F.: Sí, como dice, escapado del franquismo e interesado en el gran problema de la injusticia ancestral que padecieron los jornaleros campesinos en España, algo que conocía yo y estudiaba en la literatura, contó en que me uniera de voluntario a los trabajadores campesinos y a ayudarles en la edición de su prensa en español. Quise vivir de cerca algo que me interesaba en mis estudios, la literatura y la historia obrera, pero más, combinar las teorias con la prática. Sacar, en parte, a los estudios universitarios de su Torre de Marfil. Por supuestro, ahora, lo más importante es dar a conocer una historia qeu sigue viva, y que los lectores enriquezcan con sus propios conocimientos y experiencias lo que se trata en el libro.

 

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Víctor Fuentes, profesor emérito de la Universidad de California, Santa Bárbara, es miembro numerario de la Academia Norteamericana de la Lengua Española y miembro correspondiente de la Real Academia Española. Nacido en Madrid (España), prófugo de la España de Franco en 1954, se doctoró en la Universidad de Nueva York (1964) y, desde 1965, enseñó en la UCSB. Desde finales de los años 60 y principios de los 70, participó en los inicios del Movimiento Chicano. Ha publicado numerosísimos ensayos en sus distintas áreas de especialización literaria y de cine, y es autor de varios libros. Entre ellos destacan: La marcha al pueblo en las letras españolas (1917-1936), El cántico material y espiritual de César Vallejo, y Buñuel en México. Entre 1995 y 2010, co-editó, junto al gran mexicanista y estudioso de las letras chicanas, Don Luis Leal, Ventana Abierta, revista latina de literatura, arte y cultura. Acaba de dar a la estampa, su libro California hispano-mexicana. Una nueva narración histórico-cultural, publicado por la ANLE.

Look Both Ways in the Barrio Blanco

By Judith Robbins Rose

Illustrations by Sara Palacios 

• Hardcover: 352 pages
• Publisher: Candlewick (September 8, 2015)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0763672351
• ISBN-13: 978-0763672355

With humor and sensitivity, a debut novelist explores the coming of age of a girl caught between two cultures as she finds the courage to forge a new destiny.

"Miss, will you be my Amiga?" 

Amiga means "friend" in Spanish, but at the youth center, it meant a lady to take you places. 

I never asked myself if two people as different as Miss and me could ever really be amigas. 

When Jacinta Juarez is paired with a rich, famous mentor, she is swept away from the diapers and dishes of her own daily life into a world of new experiences. But crossing la linea into Miss’s world is scary. Half of Jacinta aches for the comfort of Mamá and the familiar safety of the barrio, while the other half longs to embrace a future that offers more than cleaning stuff for white people. When her family is torn apart, Jacinta needs to bring the two halves of herself together to win back everything she's lost. Can she channel the power she’s gained from her mentor and the strength she’s inherited from Mamá to save her shattered home life?

Reviews

Rose presents characters in crisis, whose stories are personal, rather than broadly representative, and the book is better for it. Ultimately, this is a story about code switching, and about the different skill sets and assumptions required for complex cross-cultural and cross-class situations. An interesting first novel that treats its complex characters with unusual dignity.

—School Library Journal

Rose convincingly depicts Jacinta’s struggles as she explores aspects of upper-middle-class culture—French and gymnastics lessons, theater and ballet performances—while coping with the instability and grimness of barrio life and desperately missing her mother...A moving portrayal of a girl’s effort to embrace both her Mexican roots and the possibilities of American life, as well as an affecting look at an important contemporary issue.

—Publishers Weekly

This smart debut is a poignant exploration of cultural variations and family ties through the eyes of a lovable and funny narrator. Timely in its look at the plight of undocumented immigrants and their American-born children, it is a story of empowerment against the shadows of life in the barrio.

—Booklist

Jacinta’s story gives readers insight into the world of immigrant families and their difficult lives: the fear of discovery, the poverty, distrust of anyone who is not Mexican.

—VOYA

Socially conscious kids will love discussing the moral and political issues raised here, but this book is so much more than a conversation-starter. It's a great tale about a great girl.

—Chicago Tribune

A valiant effort that wrestles with important, complex themes.

—Kirkus Reviews

Bluebird farewell. La Palabra in November. The Gluten-free Chicano's Cocido. On-line Floricanto.

The Last Bluebird

Michael Sedano

The invitation arrived to mixed emotions. Joy, at the prospect of a themed Bluebird reading, Cien minutos de recuerdos para Márquez / One hundred minutes of memories for Márquez. Desolation, realizing I’d not attended the majority of these memorable events and this one would be the last: Please join us for a 100-minute long reading of work inspired by Gabriel García Márquez, as told by 9 Los Ángeles storytellers, with short interludes accompanied by 1 Los Ángeles son jarocho.

As always, this final Bluebird Reading would happen at the cultural heartbeat of Northeast Los Angeles, Highland Park's Avenue 50 Studio.

The Avenue 50 Studio art gallery and centro cultural is LA’s best-kept secret. It shouldn’t be, but it is, owing to the pernicious strategy of the Los Angeles Times to define art and culture as only those activities happening in locations west of downtown, except for finding the best tacos and tortas in town, inevitably on the eastside. Then there’s the Grey Lady.

New York’s Times recently reported on DTLA as a new arts district without mentioning the words “Chicano” or “Mexican” in nearly 1400 words. The paper in 2013 produced a local color video piece that delighted in the pun of gentefication. (Click links in brown.)

The once reputable NY paper mentioned a couple of Boyle Heights galleries, started by east coast transplants, one of whom purchased a fixer-upper in Bel Air (the rich westside). Alluding to Boyle Heights’ heretofore cultural wasteland, the Manhattan Times calls the Boyle Heights communidad dangerous, writing:

That art space was an early outpost in Boyle Heights, a part of the district that still has an anything-goes feel. "It still has a dangerous quality — I kind of like that," Ms. Maccarone said. "I like that we spent a fortune on security.” 

Let us put aside the pendejadas of cultural exclusionism to focus on ourselves, what we’ve had here, ya hace años. The first Bluebird came to Northeast Los Angeles’ cultural heart in August 2012. Already in place was La Palabra, the eastside’s longest-running continuous reading series. Nurturing the vibrant energies of the eastside poetry community, Bluebird and La Palabra attract poets from across the LA basin who come eager to join the Open Mic and share the work of Featured readers.

Owing to lassitude and familia events, over the years I’ve joined only a few of the always memorable, inescapably photogenic Sunday readings. Not until June 2013 would I attend my first Bluebird. The second-Sunday Bluebird reading series at Avenue 50 Studio, hosted by the indefatigable Jessica Ceballos, helped inform a photographic project I’ve pursued since the 1970s, a quest for the perfect photograph of a public speaker.

For me, a photograph of a person speaking or an artist reading their own work needs concrete elements and a large helping of the ineffable. There are technical images that illustrate a particular skill like handing a manuscript or using space, but even these need to contain the elements. For sure the foto must show a person making eye contact, their vocal apparatus in an eloquent moment with lips and mouth open forming words, a dynamic moment capturing a facial expression, mid-gesture with hand, arm, visual aid, or posture. The ineffable is the presenter’s presence, the use of the technology of their body, the eloquence of the instant, and the ambience of the event.

I’ve yet to capture that one foto, but I’ve come close. A lot depends on the performer--all presentations are performances--and the photographer's anticipation of the moment.

The last Bluebird produced some good exemplars that I’ve assembled into a short video MOS featuring, in order of appearance:

Mapache and Greg Hernandez, musicos.
Lilly Flor Del Valle, singer dancer.
Amanda Yates Garcia, the Oracle of Los Angeles with an opening incantation.
Natashia Deón
Melora Walters
Zoë Ruiz
Marytza K.Rubio
Janice Lee
Mandy Kahn
Iris De Anda
Gloria Enedina Alvarez
Jessica Ceballos

Visit Avenue50Studio.org to view the comprehensive listing of Bluebirds, La Palabras, and other literary events, here: http://www.avenue50studio.org/pages/lapalabra.shtml

In addition, click the links below for a sentimental journey through La Bloga’s coverage of Bluebirds:
http://readraza.com/bluebirdpoets1/ - Jun2013
http://readraza.com/bluebird1/ - Sep2013
http://readraza.com/14bluebirdjune/ - Jun2014


¡Adelante La Palabra!

Karineh Mahdessian's invitation to the November iteration of La Palabra promised a rare treat, two of Los Angeles' best poets, Luivette Resto and Jessica Ceballos, reading with Wyatt Underwood in his debut as a Featured La Palabra poet. Underwood is writing at least one poem a day in 2015 and shared some of his gems at the Avenue 50 Studio gathering.

Luivette Resto composes powerful work that never fails to enchant, often stuns her listeners with emotional and intellectual richness, as in her “Virgula” poem about relationships on a cusp. She's also incredibly funny when she wants to be.

Jessica Ceballos, in addition to her often experimental work, holds an elected post on the Historic Highland Park Neighborhood Council, organizes Poesia Para La Gente taking poetry to non-traditional spaces, partners in Writ Large Press. Of special note, Ceballos will host a landmark November 21 reading featuring poets laureate of Los Angeles and San Francisco, Luis J. Rodriguez and Alejandro Murguia.

La Palabra for November 2015 eschewed the conventional one-to-many seating, coming together in a community circle. Mahdessian describes the arrangement as a play upon the notion of returning full circle, as Luivette Resto was the former host of La Palabra and was making her first appearance in ages.

For the reader as well as a photographer, the circle presents challenges. Christine Jordan used all the space available to present an essay about a dance teacher who insisted she “sink,” prompting a series of knee-bending contortions endeavoring to comply. “Think” the teacher was saying. Jordan’s humor fit well with the manic light-heartedness of host Karineh Mahdessian.

Other performers elected to read from their chair, or standing in place. They include, in Mahdessian’s Facebook recap, “Rolland Vasin who apologetically poemed and ran to acknowledge competing loyalties, Christine Jordan who brought in dance and taught us to 'sink', Art Currim and his lovely music, Mauro Monteiro who welcomed my hug, Albie Preciado who shared and baked, Melinda Palacio who told of broken things, Alex Hohmann who spoke of the times, Hiroko Falkenstein who explained tanka and life, harry who shared another's work, and Fernando D. Castro who told of pinkies.”

Karineh Mahdessian

It was a day for disabilities. Fernando's pinkie, Karineh's boot, and Palacio's surgical ankle scars. Here, Karineh and Melinda compare wounded extremities.

Open Microphone Readers

Top: Rolland Vasin, Mauro Monteiro. Bottom: Hiroko Falkenstein, Harry.

La Bloga's Melinda Palacio shares a poem about her now-healed shattered ankle.

Top: Alex Hohmann, Christine Jordan, Bottom: Fernando Castro, Albie Preciado

Featured Artists

Luivette Resto

Jessica Ceballos

Wyatt Underwood

Host, Emcee, Karineh Mahdessian

The Gluten-free Chicano Cooks
When the weather outside turns frightful, it’s time for Cocido

The Gluten-free Chicano's second-earliest memory of food grows out of visits to my grandmother’s home on Lawton Street in Redlands, California. My mother would go to visit her mother and as soon as I stepped down into the kitchen, gramma would sit me at the rough plank table, turn to her wood-burning stove and ladle out a steaming bowl of cocido. She kept of pot of cocido going every day.

Same thing when we went to visit little gramma--my mother's grandmother--at the Las Cuatro Milpas tortilleria on Mt. Vernon in San Bernardino. There was always a pot of cocido going, along with a guisado and beans, and the world's hottest chile salsa--the air around it made me cough.

“No, gramma, pica!” I would object as she crushed toasted chile japonés pods into the caldo. I don't remember her exact words but it was something about the picoso being good for a boy's growth, how it would keep me healthy and strong. Especially that chile japonés, and sometimes a chile piquín. She was right.

The other day, a doctor walked into a hospital room I was occupying and asked if he was in the wrong room, “I’m looking for a seventy-year old man,” he declared. I tell everyone I owe my youthful appearance and resilience to eating chile every day. A day without chile, my motto goes, is like a day without sunshine. Except when I was in the Army where there was no chile to speak of (Korean chile was insipid and had no bite), I've enchilared myself nearly every day of my life.

A week without cocido is somewhat similar. I never tire of the rich beef broth and soft-cooked vegetables of my favorite food. In the twenty-some years I worked in Vernon, California, I lunched on cocido two or three times a week. Diana’s on Pacific, Avila’s El Ranchito on Santa Fe, and Millan’s mariscos on Soto, all in Huntington Park, were in a race for the best non-homemade cocido in El Lay. For The Gluten-free Chicano, the measure of a Mexican restaurant is the quality of its cocido de res.

But homemade cocido is always the best, for three key reasons: First, cocido is easy to make. Second, you have left-overs. Third, left-over cocido tastes even better the second and third day.

Ingredients – These vary based upon what’s in the reefer. In this instance, The Gluten-free Chicano forgot the carrots and ear of corn.

Beef rib bones.
Celery stalks and the root end.
Onion.
Garlic.
Red papas.
Tomato (fresh or canned).
Cabbage.
Garbanzos.
Bell pepper.
Carrots.
Helotes (or frozen cobbettes).
Cilantro.

Cook by feel--Have a sense of what you're doing and visualize the final product.

Use a large soup pot. Salt and pepper the meaty bones then brown them with sliced onion and diced garlic in a little olive oil.

Add your water (make two quarts or a gallon, depends on how many mouths you're feeding, or who is eating), a pinch each of salt and coarse ground black pepper, a handful (a cup) of dried garbanzos, the root end of a head of celery, the carrot ends, and bring to a boil.

Cover the pot, boil on medium to high flame for half an hour or longer. The wafting perfume of the broth will beckon household members to the kitchen and everyone can stand around and get hungry. It's the smell of home sweet home.

Cut the vegetables into spoon-size or slightly larger portions. Cut the cabbage in quarters.
Use the entire pepper and pull out the stem later.

Add the vegetables to the boiling soup stock. Cover and simmer on medium flame
an hour or longer, or until the meat falls off the bone. Add the corn on the cob in the last ten minutes if you like
a crispy bite, otherwise put the corn in along with the other vegetables.

This is medium flame, doesn't touch the bottom of the pot. This lets the soup cook at a leisurely pace that
intensifies and melds all the flavors to full wholesome richness.

Serve generous portions of vegetables and broth in large bowls.
Garnish with crushed chile japonés or chile piquín. Serve with lemon or
lime halves. Restaurants serve chopped onion and fresh cilantro, and
room-temperature rice. A spoonful of rice dipped into the
hot soup cools off the soup. If you're avoiding complex carbs, no rice.

Get a good quality tortilla de maíz. If possible, a tortilla made without guar gum or preservatives, just corn, lime, and water. For wheat-eaters, a freshly rolled tortilla de harina hot off the comal is a good option. Don't place flour tortillas against corn tortillas or you contaminate the gluten-free food.

A successful bowl of cocido leaves nothing but huesos and maybe a bit of cabbage stem.

¡Provecho!


Treviño Soundbite

Last week, La Bloga reviewed Jésus Salvador Treviño’s wonderland of a novel-in-forma-de-short stories Return to Arroyo Grande. This week, Arte Publico’s radio conecta, Houston Public Media’s Eric Ladau, spoke with Treviño about the book, and recorded the author reading passages from his work. Click the link below to listen to Treviño's engaging reading highlighting key parts of the plot.

http://www.houstonpublicmedia.org/news/arte-pblico-press-author-of-the-month-jesus-salvador-trevio/

On-line Floricanto November
Miguel Alberto Jr. Ochoa Garcia, Donny Jackson, Patricia Aguayo, Neeli Cherkovski, Jeanette Iskat

Cuando nadie como yo by Miguel Alberto Jr. Ochoa Garcia
41.52 by Donny Jackson
Mujer presente by Patricia Aguayo
Kevin Killian by Neeli Cherkovski
Fall by Jeanette Iskat


Cuando nadie como yo
Por Miguel Alberto Jr. Ochoa García

Sutil máquina, no llores, sé que todavía estás encendida. Se escuchan
tus gritos desde tu vientre blanco. ¿Quieres que te ponga nombre,
título? Ni dios puede hacer eso. No me mires, no desees mis dedos
ennegrecidos, no quieras conocer mis sueños, oh dulce pesadilla. No
me digas Dios, al que quieras orar por existencia, no me digas padre,
al que le quieras arrancar fortuna, no me nombres madre, de la que
quieras recibir caricias.

Eres tan solo una máquina, una cuadrada forma en la que pueden
existir mil galaxias; un planeta donde las imágenes rondan, se
reproducen y se mueren. Eres tan solo una maquinaria como existen
muchas, tan triste y vacía, como el reflejo del miedo.

Este huevo donde te han sumergido es una cápsula donde puedes
pensar en duendes morados, grandes horizontes azules o en cestos
con fruta en ellos. Todo es posible, quédate con eso. Mas no te quedes
conmigo, si me promueves a dios, te pondré mi nombre a la altura de
tus pies o a lado de tu cabeza, y entonces, diré que me perteneces,
que soy tu padre, tu creador.

Sutil máquina encendida, miedo de miedos, sujétate de un separador,
cierra el cuaderno y nunca te pierdas. Espera que el tiempo se acabe y
nadie como yo pueda escribir nada. Entonces no se diga que nadie te
quiere, sino que nadie podrá escribir su nombre en tu cuerpo.
Y así, hija mía, aunque yo no lo haya decidido, podrás llamarte “La
página en blanco” aunque solo tú lo pronuncies y nadie como yo,
pueda saberlo.




41.52
By Donny Jackson

habtom

my baby boy, my baby boy
you make me look good
like a handsome bracelet on my wrist
like the jewels on my neck
should i start all over again
from conception to birth?
you are such a delight.

from meseraseri
an eritrean lullaby

knife

fear

gun

boot

bench

not one of them looked like a fiber until braided they were a noose

knife

no one is a monster before they’ve seen one

a stabbing
how to grieve in metal

the monster they were looking for was not the one they got

fear

although he was finally crawling on the ground they way they often saw him
standing
he still looked like a terrorist when someone needed to catch the word
thrown into the air

his complexion is sticky

his hands are too scraped to remember injera
too soft
to bore into the ground and hide

no one around him looks like him except the enemy no one can identify

until him

they have saved the afraid of their every day to be able to fight back

they live like a land mine

it is not his fault he resembles a nightmare

gun

the why and final of firearms is that they are fast
so he
is a silenced scream

not his

he is not civilization or surrender
he
is capture

he did not hear the shot that drilled his prayers into the floor

boot

they stomped his head when the gun made him a small enough insect

they walked away not knowing how much of him they carried in their stride

bench

a reminder to people in these bus stations to wait
until they can travel to another
target

they used it
as a sledgehammer

it may be true they were trying to kill it and him at the same time


afraid to die alone
as mother’s milk
for a how a mob countries
this tender of plants
before he closes his eyes
one last time
asks of his blood
to seep below this moment
through to the black
from which all plants grow
and nurse a stalk
eager with fruit
that will outlive
all his witnesses

A former professor and psychotherapist, Donny Jackson holds a doctorate in clinical psychology, and works currently as a Executive Producer and director in unscripted television and film. In the written arts, Donny has enjoyed stints as an autobiography ghostwriter, playwright, and book critic, as well as speech writer for a diverse set of clients, from Blair Underwood to the Clinton White House. An award-winning poet (but only because of the $2 prize he won in a city-wide poetry contest at age eight), Donny has featured as a spoken word artist throughout southern California and the northeastern United States. His one man, multiple character spoken word show, One Man Shown, is returning to southern California in the summer of 2016.



Mujer presente
By Patricia Aguayo

Mujer presente

What is this renewed
consciousness???

The End
and the Beginning

Life and

Death of a cycle

The awakening and
beginning for many of us.

I want to awaken and
listen….

I want to recognize the calling
of my path

And I want to honor it.

Mujer,

Share your thoughts

Share your theories….

better yet…manifest and weave
them with your female energy.

We have always been
present in root of
establishment through out
history.

We are co-creators.

Birthing many civilizations,
religions, thoughts and
theories.

Many times standing behind
a man, beside a man or a few
steps ahead.

Siempre presente



Kevin Killian
By Neeli Cherkovski

1

Centuries full of words
And single letters
Line up on this cold evening
In San Francisco's
Patagonian light
We are sure nothing will do
As well as our handsome
Fingers holding the paper
And looking for an island

2

The beautiful young men
Have their own space
Drinking red wine
Demanding nothing less
Than a pair of elder eyes
In this ancient grove
Where homage
Is given by a breeze

3

We grew old here
And at nightfall
Hear ourselves
In the theater prone to joy
Memory shouts
But we are wicked
As we turn the wheel
Into communion
Alongside flowers
In their street side beds

4

Writing is prayer
On a medieval night
Imagine the play
And remember our plague
Find an island
In your hand as dawn crumbles
By the dangerous ocean

5

There are captains
with Frail tin lanterns
Walking tonight
Where ribs of the island
Protrude -- here you see
Drops of blood
From those people we love
We will never bring them home
From where they sleep

6

The world has
1 trillion words
For "emptiness"
One word will do
As the sun slides
Over Twin Peaks
Only one cup is full
We must raise it
Moon finds form
And terrace fill
With young men
and women

7

On one of the islands
You will glitter because
Time takes everything
And gives us the means
To seize comic love
And lovely wisdom
Until we turn to the waves
And become




Fall
By Jeanette Iskat

The trees are full of webs, made by spiders as big as toads and the paths are lined in toads, wee as spiders. The new moon's dark light spills out, hiding everything but the slightly more there deep darkness of clouds. The stain of cold hits the bed, not quite shivery but holding the promise of autumn. There is a slight movement, the night rambling of a hunter in the grass, waiting, searching to add another small body to the offering pile. Thistles stand, towering but dead, holding only purpose as launching pads for the gyrations of locusts and grasshoppers, all of whom flee with maddened leaps at any felt step.

The memory of you jumps into my head, mad in motion, a fleeing insect. You leap fast and free, then stop frozen, all atremble and large with the hope that I won't notice you, obvious and bright green as you are. I come in close, to puzzle out your large eyes and impossibly bent limbs. I am distracted by the wind in the leaves, dancing them still on the trees and rustling the webs. You break free of my inattention and leap off madly, perhaps chasing that one early cicada who seems to have gotten the time wrong.

In my head, I circle the garden absentminded, shaped by sunflowers and the purple grapes, close now to becoming raisins on the vine, slapping at insects bent on taking all of my blood. I think of the approach of winter, how it will come fast and grey, with quiet spaces to be found between snow and wood, and the hermit in me smiles.

Jeanette Iskat is the daughter and granddaughter of immigrants, a watercolor painter and poet. She currently makes her home in rural New Mexico but misses the people and poetry of Los Angeles. You can find her art at https://www.facebook.com/JVIDA-Art-388057131370639/?fref=ts


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