XI International Conference on Chicano Literature and Latino Studies

XI International Conference on Chicano Literature and Latino Studies

Xánath Caraza

The XI International Conference on Chicano Literature and Latino Studies, organized by HispaUSA and the Universidad de Salamanca, with the collaboration of the instituto Franklin-UAH, will be held in Salamanca, May 28-30, 2018.

This conference draws attention to the different interpretations of the concept “Latinidad” at the present time, also looking towards the future.  Therefore, “Latinidad” involves the blend of cultures recreating different identities, often forgotten in an exercise of permanent reconstruction.

Durante más de dos décadas un grupo de profesores, académicos e intelectuales españoles y norteamericanos han venido estudiando de forma conjunta la realidad de los hispanos en Estados Unidos.  Es precisamente fruto de este encuentro por lo que surge HispaUSA.  Una asociación sin ánimo de lucro, cuyos fines son estimular, fomentar e impulsar el estudio y la investigación en todas las áreas relacionadas con la cultura y la sociedad hispana en los Estados Unidos; así como fomentar la interrelación entre el mundo hispano de Estados Unidos y España.

HispaUSA tiene su sede en el Instituto Franklin de la Universidad de Alcalá de Henares, un centro que desde 1987 ha impulsado el estudio de Norteamérica así como la colaboración institucional entre Estados Unidos y España.

Este 2018 en Salamanca del 28 al 30 de mayo se lleva a cabo la XI International Conference on Chicano Literature and Latino Studies.

The Collapse of Humanity: A Chicana in the Balkans

"...I listened to the snow bursting under the tires

like teeth crunching an apple

and I felt a wild desire to laugh

at you

because you call this place hell

and you flee from here convinced

that death beyond Sarajevo does not exist."

"Corpse"

From Sarajevo Blues 

by Semezdin Mehmedinović  

For those who may not remember or are unfamiliar with this history:  Known as "The Siege of Sarajevo" (the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina), this city and its people experienced bombings, sniper bullets, grenade attacks, hunger, starvation, untold violent beatings, rapes between 1992 to 1995.  It was a race war, a genocide, a blatant slaughtering of innocents. The objective: to end a "brotherhood of cultures living together (former Yugoslavia)" and establish one national identity.  Bosnia and Herzegovina, one of the most multi-ethnic areas of the Balkans (Bosnians, Bosnian Muslims, Croats, Serbs, Jews [Sephardic and Ashkenazi]--all mixed), was targeted for "cleansing" (as were other cities, towns, villages).  When it was all over, 13,952 people were dead: 9,429 Bosnians; 3, 573 Serbs; 810 Croats; and 140 others in this small city (according to the RDC--Research and Documentation Center in Sarajevo). 

Above is a map of the siege. The red line all around the city (65 kilometers) denotes the Serbian Army surrounding it.  Citizens were trapped and found themselves in a daily struggle to survive.  I have been fortunate to meet survivors of this siege, who told me what it was like for them, what they experienced.  The map above is an important guide.  But how does this map translate "on the ground?"  I took pictures to show you.  

Below is a picture from the east side of  the city.  We came up here because there is a lovely hilltop cafe.  But from here, I imagined how easy it would be for a sniper to gun down pedestrians, to shoot at cars, trucks, to throw grenades, any kind of explosive.  About a week later, they took me to a nearby village where the soldiers stayed.  It was their camp to rest and "recharge" before coming back to the line to shoot at civilians.  

During my stay in Sarajevo, I lived at the top of a hill in a small flat.  Every day, I would take this walk (below) to get down to the main part of the city.  Imagine walking with me.  We are making our way down to the main street.  But right in front of us (and to the right and left) are hills.  Between 1992 and 1995, snipers were up there, aiming their guns right here, where we stand.  

And this is what many of the buildings still look like: bullet ridden.  A remembrance.  

A few feet from my flat there is a memorial to a number of individuals killed on the street and in nearby apartments.  Below is the park that has been dedicated to the 1,500 (estimated) children killed.  

The names of the children one after another, are multi-ethnic: Serb children next to Bosniak Muslims, next to Croats.  

Out of all the places I've visited so far, Sarajevo is one of the most beautiful and yet viscerally painful if you are in tune with "la facultad" as feminist lesbian theorist, Gloria Anzaldúa describes it in her book Borderlands/La Frontera: "the capacity to see in surface phenomenon the meaning of deeper realities, to see the deep structure below the surface. It is an instant 'sensing,' a quick perception. . . "

The day I arrived to Sarajevo, there was a strong wind.  I had flown in because I wanted to see the city and its surroundings from the air:  rolling hills, towering mountains, the central Dinaric Alps all around and Sarajevo nestled in a cozy little valley. I was not aware until later that it was a full moon that night. What I did feel, was the wind growing stronger after landing.  The drive from the airport to my flat took me along the Miljacka River flowing from east to west, its bridges connecting one side of the city to the other such as the "Latin Bridge" where Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria and his wife Sophie were killed or the "Suada and Olga Bridge," where the first "Sarajevo" victims, Suada Dilberović and Olga Sučić were shot and killed on May 19th, 1992. Suada and Olga had been active in spontaneous resistances happening on the Sarajevo bridges and squares -- hundreds of citizens voicing their opposition to what they felt was an unnecessary war.

Below is a photograph I took of the bedroom door in my flat. It is a beautiful door marked by a single bullet hole. The red you see beyond the cracked glass is my bed.  That night the wind hummed and swirled.  I felt thousands whispering, chattering, tapping on the windows of the flat. Unafraid, I took some Mexican herbs from my backpack which I always carry, and sprinkled them around the flat.  I went on the balcony and listened to the wind for a long time and threw some of the herbs into the whirling wind.

Today Bosniak Muslims, Croats, Serbs, Jews are still living together here.  There are no winners.  No matter how much they [they!!] try to eradicate, erase, get rid of, block, they cannot. No matter how they manipulate language to force amnesia, to incite hate, (how they create words like "cleansing"), they cannot. Yet, tragedy upon tragedy accumulates.  This war, that war:  at what cost?  Last night, one of my Bosnian friends and I sat down to watch the film, Growing Up with War:  Children of Syria. My Bosnian friend who watched it with me lived in a basement for four years during the siege.  Her mother's side of the family all died in a neighboring village.  Her mother lives with a bullet lodged in her lungs.  "When she feels the bullet move," my friend tells me, "she says it feels as if it is moving across her heart.  She says it reminds her that she is alive."

In the past few weeks, I have heard and recorded so many tragic stories, seen memorial after memorial.  And when I think about our present moment in history, how we are regressing, regressing, regressing, I wonder  . . . how many memorials, pock-marked buildings, traumatized children and adults, polluted sites filled with the detritus of war, of our inhumanity-- will it take to stop, stop, stop.

El Principe: Dealing with a Bully in a Bygone Era by AntonioSolisGomez

La Mansion 306 w. Overland (recent photo)

I was born in El Paso in 1941 a few months before the start of World War II. My mother, Nena, was a single mom, having given birth to my older brother Ruly three years before, while still married to our father. By the time I was born my father had left us and was in Los Angeles. We and her mother Herminia, shared an apartment at La Mansion, a two story brick building in the Duranguito neighborhood, few blocks from downtown El Paso. The building, along with much of Duranguito, is now slated for destruction to expand the downtown area and some citizens are fighting for its preservation calling it "the Ellis Island of the border" as so many lived there when they came from Mexico. 

Our apartment was on the second floor, one of eighteen apartments that shared two toilets, a bath and a roofed balcony where everyone hung their laundry to dry. It was a cozy life I thought, when I was old enough to appreciate what I had: family friends that came during lunch breaks to eat a meal prepared by my abuelita, whom my brother started calling Willy; jaunts to Juarez to buy food at the Mercado and to visit with my ninos; visits to the public library to get books; and neighbors that cared for one another.

L to R Willy and Concha, my nina circa 1944

The tranquility of our little community was interrupted one summer day with the arrival of the infamous ‘El Principe', a name coined by Willy to describe a pompous buffoon who thought much too highly of himself. He was a large swarthy man, given to loud talk, mostly about himself and his importance and often boasting that he had been a policeman in Mexico. He made it known quite soon after his arrival that he worked at night and that the building would have absolute quiet while he slept during the day. This was a building that did not have too many children and therefore my brother and I often became the target of his rage whenever we played in the hallway or ran up the stairs to our apartment. One day in a rage he threw a pail of water and thoroughly soaked me. My Willy was furious and had some words with him. That incident began a contest of wills and tempers that carried throughout the summer days, the tension mounting with each encounter. The final straw was reached that winter when El Principe, who went shirtless year around, decided that the door from the central corridor leading to the balcony would have to remain open because he was too warm in his apartment. El Paso temps during winter drop below freezing and it receives a snowfall or two. One of the tenants had been ill with a cold and she had closed the door, as the chilly draft would invade all the apartments. ‘El Principe’ wasted no time in reopening it. Willy took it upon herself to go close the door. How she got the nerve to do so is unknown, as she was not one whom one would consider a courageous person. She was a small petite women, about 4’10’’. ‘El Principe’ opened it again and Willy one more time went out to close it. El Principe was waiting for her and in a loud voice verbally abused her with the foulest language imaginable. The neighbors quickly called my mother who was at work to let her know what had just transpired between Willy and ‘El Principe’. 

Nena taken a few years ago. She is 98

 

An advantage of being at the lowest rung of the social order is that often one gets to rub elbows with those of the highest order or with the powers that be. My mother as an operator of the elevator at the courthouse knew lawyers, judges, detectives and in that crisis called on her detective friends to go and investigate the situation, which they did. In the 1940’s, especially in small towns such as El Paso, social mores were quite different from today and insulting a woman and using profane language was not tolerated. Needless to say the detectives hauled off ‘El Principe’ to cool his heels in jail for the night and a court hearing was scheduled to get to the bottom of the conflict. On the appointed court date a few days later ‘El Principe’ showed up with Mercurochrome splashed all over his arm where, he claimed to the judge, Willy had scratched him. But neither his dramatics nor his claim about being a former policeman in Mexico endeared him to the judge, who issued a restraining order to him to cease his harassment of Willy and of the other tenants. Shortly after the court hearing ‘El Principe’ moved out and once again peace reigned.

Interview With M.R. Tapia

The short stories of M.R. Tapia have appeared in Schlock Webzine, Deadman's Tome, Empty Sink Publishing, and Hindred Souls:  Dark Tales for Dark Nights.  His short story, Stella Reign, was a 2016 Pushcart Prize nominee.  His latest short story, Bloodstream Revolution, appeared in Deadman's Tome:  Monsters Exist.  He writes for and runs Hindred Souls Press out of Northern Colorado.

I met M.R. (Manuel) at the recent Colorado Book Festival.  I learned that he set-up and now manages a press, and that his writing is adventurous and edgy.  I thought the readers of La Bloga would appreciate learning more about this guy and his ambitions and plans for the future, as well as a few insights into his current work.  The result is this short interview, exclusively for La Bloga.

___________________________________________

M.R. Tapia

Tapia:  First off I’d like to thank you very much for your time and this opportunity.

Ramos:  Welcome to La Bloga -- always a pleasure to spotlight new writers and people who are risk-takers and adventurers for literature and culture.

What is Hindered Souls Press?  Why did you start this press?  What is the goal or mission of the press?  Are you looking for authors to publish?

Hindered Souls Press is an independent publishing house I created last year. It began with an experimental horror anthology I put together in 2016. At the time, I found it difficult to find short story publications who didn’t ask for reading fees or exclusive submissions, and had nearly nonexistent probability of any response unless one was accepted. So I created the Hindered Souls anthology and offered responses to every story submitted and no reading fees.

At the time I had been working on my novel Sugar Skulls and began shopping it around. All of the offers I received offered a small royalty percentage and little to no marketing. The royalties were going to help pay the publishing houses, editors, formatters, and book cover design (one where I was to have little say.) I found that outrageous. It was then I built upon the same idea of my anthology and created Hindered Souls Press.

HSP offers the lion’s share of its royalties to its authors. We make sure the author is involved in the creation of their book cover and soldier alongside HSP with the marketing, as we are a team.

HSP specializes in horror/transgressive fiction. As Cesar Cruz said, we aim to “comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” We hope to expose the darkness of the world that is sugarcoated or hidden on a daily basis, wrapping it within a great story with great writing, ultimately humbling the world to realize that things are tough all over.

We opened our submissions call last year in November for novels and novellas. Being that we are a small press still in its infancy, we can only open for one month, hoping to find 2-3 projects to fill up the following year’s lineup. Any more and we’d be robbing the authors and their work of the time and respect they deserve. This coming November we open once again to help fill our 2019 lineup.

How would you describe your writing?  Who are the readers of your writing? 

My writing can be described as transgressive. I enjoy wordplay and the layout of the actual story. Bending the traditional rules of writing is another pleasure I partake in. The feeling of confinement by what is expected in literature is a looming threat to which I shove back. I love dark topics with a hidden story. In Sugar Skulls I integrate deaths of loved ones, drugs, broken relationships, and of course, Aztec lore among other cultures. It deals with different social classes, as well. I find there are deeper stories to discover with the outcast characters. People who are frowned upon by society for whatever reason. Those who feel oppressed by whatever and whoever can find solace in mine and HSP’s works. We have recently adopted the slogan Rebel Literature as a way of saying we are anti-status quo. Pro anti-normalcy.

I find stories deep within your average Joe or average Jane characters, everyone has skeletons in their closets. My writing relates to a diverse demographic as we’ve all witnessed and experienced ugly in the world. Macklemore said, “I can’t control life but I control how I react to it,” and I enjoy exploring how different characters react to the world’s ugliness, as even then we can find some beauty within. At the end of the day, I want my readers to feel an inkling of inspiration. To get a sense of humility, and the fact that we are all a part of the same energy. Besides money, we are no different than the next person. Things truly are tough all over and we all have issues and struggles we deal with and hide daily.

Central to the theme of Sugar Skulls is the concept of mortality and the puzzle and mystery of death.  You agree?  This concept and the puzzle and mystery are also key ingredients in Mexican culture.  How important are these ideas in your own life and art?

Very well said. The Mexican culture has very deep views upon life and death. My parents were from Chihuahua, MX. Spanish was my first language. Mexican culture, my roots. My foundation. In Sugar Skulls, the protagonist, Micah, deals with having to not only recount pertinent deaths from his life, but relive them in order to find out how he died. His name is actually a play on the name of the Aztec ruler of the underworld, Mictlantecuhtli. The deaths Micah deals with are mostly based on my own experiences. I lost my mother in 2002 and my father in 2017. I’ve also lost many friends and have come close with others. Throughout all of my own experiences I have learned that one never becomes accustomed to celebrating a lost one’s life, or mourning their death. Family is the core to Mexican culture, and I have been blessed with a very loving and supportive family. Mexican culture is also rooted in struggle and perseverance. My art carries a lot of this weight on its words and stories. In the end, we as humans are always attempting to learn from our past, define what we are living for, and leave a mark—whether positive or negative— before our time comes to an end.

What were you trying to do with Sugar Skulls? Do you think you succeeded?

Sugar Skulls started as an idea for a short story. Once I began writing, Micah showed me how much we had in common. How much deeper his story went. In a sense, a lot of my own pain was carried by Micah. With it first being an idea for a short story, the ultimate outcome surpassed my own expectations.

Was Juan Rulfo an influence on your writing of Sugar Skulls?  Or another Mexican writer?  Is Sugar Skulls noir, fantasy, horror, gothic?  Something else?

Mexican and Mexican/American culture has always played a huge influence, including my own experiences. Sadly, this is the first time I’ve heard of Juan Rulfo, but I have added his works to my reading list as of now and am excited to read them. Guillermo del Toro is definitely an influence. I have studied Mexican figures such as Zapata and Villa and the struggle of the Mexican people. There are many commonalities that have become universal in the States. I tried to touch on many of them in Sugar Skulls. My novel contains elements which can be sorted into many categories: horror, transgressive, mystery, gothic, noir, drama, suspense, and thriller.

What are your writing and publishing plans for the future?  Any works in progress?  Where can readers find Sugar Skulls?

As far as the moment goes, I plan to keep plugging away for Hindered Souls Press, i.e. my own works and our first signed author A. A. Medina’s and his novella Siphon. Keep preparing our two forthcoming authors: Renee Miller’s Eat the Rich July 13^th; Leo X. Robertson’s Jesus of Scumburg in December. We have many events lined up this summer where we will have a booth: Starfest; Denver Punk Rock Flea Market; Estes Park Comic Con; and the Fort Collins Comic Con. We hope to add a few others as we progress through the year.

Hindered Souls Press has garnered some attention—we do not want to stop there. We look to continue growing, gaining readers and notoriety. For myself, I have a work in progress that is rooted in a taboo subject and touches on the amount of secrets we carry as humans while portraying great Samaritans.

Sugar Skulls and my novella The Die-Fi Experiment can be found on our website HinderedSoulsPress.com, there you can find our other authors as well as HSP merchandise. Amazon also carries HSP literature.

Thank you, tocayo.  Good luck with your publishing venture and your writing.  See you at the next book fair.

__________________________________________

Later.

Manuel Ramos has three noir short stories in the literary pipeline: Night in Tunisia (Blood Business, Mario Acevedo and Joshua Viola, eds., Hex Publishing, 2017), Snake Farm (Culprits: The Heist Was Only the Beginning, Richard Brewer and Gary Phillips, eds., Polis Books, 2018), and Sitting Ducks (Blood and Gasoline, Mario Acevedo, ed., Hex Publishing, 2018). His next novel is scheduled for publication in September, 2018.

Chicanonautica: The Brown Buffalo Rises Again

by Ernest Hogan

The world mostly knows Oscar Zeta Acosta as he was caricatured into a 300-pound Samoan attorney by Hunter S. Thompson. Later he was portrayed by Anglo Actor Peter Boyle in the film Where the Buffalo Roam. Puertorriqueño Benicio Del Toro played him in the film version of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Now there’s a movie all about him: The Rise and Fall of the Brown Buffalo.

It begins with some words:

This film is a dramatization.

It is based on historical record - personal letters, journalistic and literary accounts.

Actors play real people and are shown along with actual footage. It straddles the bio pic and documentary genres, as well as fiction and nonfiction. That’s a Chicano thing, gonzo journalism, magic realism. Plain old realism and categories just ain’t enough, cabrones!

And it works. I sometimes lost track if I was seeing Acosta or the actor Jesse Celedon, who plays it more like the news clips than the drug-crazed maniac from the movies. 

Jeff Harms plays a surprisingly clear-headed Hunter Thompson, pouring  whisky while delivering the author’s words with a biting, cynical edge, rather than the mumbling, spaced-out mimicry of Bill Murray and Johnny Depp.

The result brings Acosta to life with the humor and brutal honesty of his books. We get glimpses of the man through that media myth, providing a good introduction for those who would like to read his books.

The film focuses on his career as an attorney and activist, but also covers his writing career, and how difficult being a Chicano writer is. He had to threaten a lawsuit to get his books published, which is of special interest to me, because I keep getting called a successor to Acosta.

He has certainly been an influence on my work. I don’t consider myself to me another Dr. Gonzo. I go easy on my cerveza, and I haven’t touched any illegal drugs in decades. Still, people read my stuff and imagine me sprinkling peyote flakes on my huevos rancheros, and prowling the streets in a lowrider, seeking virgins to sacrifice to Tezcatlipoca.

I do see how the connection is made. I have a bad attitude. I’m not an academic. My relationship with Western Civilization is antagonistic. New York treats me like the the most talented leper they ever met. I scare the sort of people publishers think buy books. I refuse to go down in flames like a good, little minority writer. So I keep that foot firmly planted in the underground, so I’ll have a place to stand when things get hairy.

Like they are now.

Sure they may change, but it’s going to be a long, hard guerrilla campaign. The Corporate Culture Machine has only just now realized that black people actually exist. It may take a while for them to see all the shades of brown, the buffaloes, the cockroaches, the high-powered mutants never considered for mass production.

Meanwhile, I recommend The Rise and Fall of the Brown Buffalo. See it. And dig in, sandwich Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas between Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo and Revolt of the Cockroach People, as a weird, disjointed, distorted--after all, isn’t all art distortion?--trilogy that lets certain truths be self-evident, and kindles some vicious laughter.

I have a feeling we’re going to need it in the near future.

Ernest Hogan has been called the Father of Chicano Science Fiction. Rumor has it that he’s an Aztec priest or a techno-shaman. His novel Smoking Mirror Blues is now available in a new edition.

2018 Tomás Rivera Book Award Winners

Texas State University College of Education developed The Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children’s Book Award to honor authors and illustrators who create literature that depicts the Mexican American experience. The award was established in 1995 and was named in honor of Dr. Tomás Rivera, a distinguished alumnus of Texas State University. For more information visit http://riverabookaward.org

The Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children’s Book Award is pleased to announce, I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter by Erika L. Sánchez has been selected as the winner for 2018 in the “Works for Older Readers-Young Adult” category.

Perfect Mexican daughters do not go away to college. And they do not move out of their parents’ house after high school graduation. Perfect Mexican daughters never abandon their family.

But Julia is not your perfect Mexican daughter. That was Olga’s role.

Then a tragic accident on the busiest street in Chicago leaves Olga dead and Julia left behind to reassemble the shattered pieces of her family. And no one seems to acknowledge that Julia is broken, too. Instead, her mother seems to channel her grief into pointing out every possible way Julia has failed.

But it’s not long before Julia discovers that Olga might not have been as perfect as everyone thought. With the help of her best friend Lorena, and her first kiss, first love, first everything boyfriend Connor, Julia is determined to find out. Was Olga really what she seemed? Or was there more to her sister’s story? And either way, how can Julia even attempt to live up to a seemingly impossible ideal?

The Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children’s Book Award is pleased to announce that The First Rule of Punk by Celia C. Pérez has been selected as the winner for 2018 in the “Works for Older Readers-Middle Grade” category.

There are no shortcuts to surviving your first day at a new school—you can’t fix it with duct tape like you would your Chuck Taylors. On Day One, twelve-year-old Malú (María Luisa, if you want to annoy her) inadvertently upsets Posada Middle School’s queen bee, violates the school’s dress code with her punk rock look, and disappoints her college-professor mom in the process. Her dad, who now lives a thousand miles away, says things will get better as long as she remembers the first rule of punk: be yourself.

The real Malú loves rock music, skateboarding, zines, and Soyrizo (hold the cilantro, please). And when she assembles a group of like-minded misfits at school and starts a band, Malú finally begins to feel at home. She'll do anything to preserve this, which includes standing up to an anti-punk school administration to fight for her right to express herself!

The Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children’s Book Award is pleased to announce that All Around Us by Xelena Gonzalez and illustrator Adriana M. Garcia has been selected as the winner for 2018 in the “Works for Younger Readers” category.

Grandpa says circles are all around us. He points to the rainbow that rises high in the sky after a thundercloud has come. "Can you see? That's only half of the circle. That rest of it is down below, in the earth." He and his granddaughter meditate on gardens and seeds, on circles seen and unseen, inside and outside us, on where our bodies come from and where they return to. They share and create family traditions in this stunning exploration of the cycles of life and nature.