Pink Fire Trucks / Los Camiones de Bomberos de Color Rosado

Written by Gladys Elizabeth Barbiery

Illustrated by Lina Safar

Girls can be firefighters too!

Spirited Gladys Elizabeth is at it again. It’s CAREER DAY at school and Gladys Elizabeth boldly announces that she is going to be a firegirl. After a classmate tells her that girls can’t fight fires, Gladys Elizabeth proves that she can be whatever she wants to be!

For more information visit www.chuchosbooks.com

Book Trailer

Interview with the author

Alexie's Public Blasphemy. On-line Floricanto Penultimate of July.

Review: Sherman Alexie. Blasphemy. NY: Grove, 2012.
ISBN 9780802120397 : 0802120393

Michael Sedano

One of the book groups I belong to has a rule: no short fiction collections. The prejudice grows in part from preference for the long form, for its elaboration of character, scene and narrative. I suspect also attention deficit, because well-crafted short stories demand a reader’s focus, rewards it with intense detail and art. With the reader fully involved in a story and prepared for more, the writer ends the story. Turn the page and it’s a different character, time, place, scene.

Sherman Alexie’s 2012 collection of new and selected stories, Blasphemy, will drive long-form devotees mad, with thirty-one starts and stops, stories recited in male, female, homeless, middle class, reservation, city voices.

Covering 464 pages in hardbound, the 31 stories come upon ordinary people who find themselves in extraordinary circumstances. Each pulls together what resources come to hand. After this it’s a struggle to return to being an ordinary Indian. Alexie isn’t bad-mouthing alcoholics, mentally ill, desperately poor, conflicted, people. He’s assembled his stories because they are about ordinary people with more-or-less ordinary problems. There's the blasphemy, Indians are just any other guy named Joe. Some of them make it up as they go along. Some of them know all the songs.

There's no blasphemy in writing that’s extraordinary. Devotees of good writing and arresting stories will welcome the 31 times Alexie launches into a new story. There's never enough, no, always the lure of “what’s he going to come up with next?”

There’s the nostalgic story of faded basketball star, Frank Snake Church. He works himself into shape, holds his own in a garbage-talking challenge scrimmage against Varsity players. Here the author captures a warm moment between generations,

the aboriginal hook shot, belonged to Frank, and he danced in fast circles around the court, whooping and celebrating like a spastic idiot. I sound like some Boy Scout's idea of an Indian warrior, Frank thought, like I'm a parody, but a happy parody. . . . . The old man and the young man hugged each other and laughed. "I beat you," Frank said. "Old man," said Double 0, "you gave me a trip on your time machine."

Later in the story, “What Ever Happened To Frank Snake Church?” Alexie shows Indian people connecting not because they are Indians but because they are poor:

She reached beneath the counter again, pulled out another stack of paper, and set it beside the other stack of paper. So much paper, so much work. He didn't know why he was here; he'd come here only because his therapist had suggested it. Frank felt stupid and inadequate. He'd made a huge mistake by quitting his Forest Service job, but he could probably go back. He didn't want to go to college; he wanted to walk the quiet forests and think about nothing as often as he could. "Hey, listen," Frank said, "I've got another thing to go to. I'll come back later." "No, listen," she said, because she was poor and smart and had been poorer and was now smarter than people assumed she was. “I know this is scary. I was scared to come here. I’ll help you. I’ll take you to Stephanie.”

Poverty impacts not only individuals but entire families. Family matters occupy a preponderance of the stories in Blasphemy, including stories for single parent mothers, father-son understanding, the praxis of marriage. In “Because My Father Always Said. . . “ Alexie evokes one mother’s longing wrought by separation tempered by reason, “She'd get that look on her face that I knew meant she missed my father. Not enough to want him back. She missed him just enough for it to hurt.”

In “Do You Know Where I Am”, a couple confronts her cheating on him. This is a culmination of a lifelong lie and a bad decision. He demands to know the orifices she employed, arguing, "You don't get to feel as much pain as me. Now say it. Tell me exactly." She closed her eyes and moaned like some tortured animal, like she was the first animal feeling the first pain. I heard that sound again when she buried her mother and, thirteen months later, her father.

Indian Personhood runs throughout the stories as the linking element for these otherwise ordinary people. The ambiguity of identity itself creates provocative moments for Alexie’s characters. For example, Corliss, in “The Search Engine,” struggles to fit in as a student at Washington State.

White people, no matter how smart, were too romantic about Indians. White people looked at the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls, the full moon, newborn babies, and Indians with the same goofy sentimentalism. Being a smart Indian, Corliss had always taken advantage of this romanticism, but that didn't mean she wanted to share the refrigerator with it. . . . . If she lived with a white person, Corliss knew she'd quickly be seen as ordinary, because she was ordinary. It's tough to share a bathroom with an Indian and continue to romanticize her.

Adjusting what she thinks she knows, and what she’s experienced, keeps Corliss’ identification processes in perpetual agitation, and because she's smart she's focused on the ambiguities:

Because she was Indian, she'd been taught to fear and hate white people. Sure, she hated all sorts of white people-the arrogant white businessmen in their wool suits, the illiterate white cheerleaders in their convertibles, the thousands of flannel-shirted rednecks who roamed the streets of Spokane-but she knew they represented the worst of whiteness. It was easy to hate white vanity and white rage and white ignorance, but what about white compassion and white genius and white poetry?

In “What You Pawn I Will Redeem,” a homeless alcoholic dreams of redemption. But he's a wino. He sets on a quest to honor his family’s memory. It’s a frustrating story of noble ideals pissed away in drink and conviviality, Bukowski without the alkie's acerbity.

I told him about my grandmother's powwow regalia and how much money I needed to buy it back. "We should call the police," he said. "I don't want to do that," I said. "It's a quest now. I need to win it back by myself."
"Can you lend me some money?" "I can't do that," he said. "If I lend you money, I have to lend money to everybody." "What can you do?" "I'll give you fifty papers for free. But don't tell anybody I did it." "Okay," I said. He gathered up the newspapers and handed them to me. I held them to my chest. He hugged me. I carried the newspapers back toward the water.

He sells a few papers, enough to buy a bottle, and dumps the unsold. When you’re a loser, redemption is an active verb, it doesn’t happen along by itself. Alexie chooses this story, “What You Pawn I Will Redeem,” as the book’s final piece.

For me, the masterpiece of the collection is the book’s penultimate title, “Basic Training,” a moving account of a highway accident, a man forced to shoot his trained donkeys. Juxtaposing the story of compassion against donkey basketball, Alexie conducts a seminar on ethos, the character:

So, yes, Deuce was the Socrates of the Carter clan. But even Deuce knew that wasn't saying much because the Carter clan currently consisted of himself, the elder Emery, and twelve donkeys. Emery Sr. and Emery Jr. were the president and vice president of Carter & Sons, one of two Donkey Basketball outfits in the Pacific Northwest and one of only ten still operating in the United States.

Each of the animals has a golfer’s name. Some have cute characteristics, like George Mikan, who drives for the basket every time. There’s Bob Cousy, a basketball dud, who survives the roll-over, but screams with agony under twisted wreckage.

Man and donkey had known each other for fifteen years. And they stared into each other’s eyes with a man’s regret and a donkey’s primal pain. But Deuce could see that Bob Cousy wanted to live. Considering how slow and clueless Bob had been as a basketball player, it was surprising to see strength in him now.

It's a brilliant example of pathos, wrenching emotion from readers in the vivid moments of truth as Deuce kills the donkeys.

Sherman Alexie’s thirty-one stories can be read serendipitously, open the book and start reading. Readers who demand the long form or have low tolerance for short fiction should read “Basic Training,” the donkey basketball story. When it ends, that reader’s turning to page one and discovering the reward of enjoying this rich collection of literary gems.


On-line Floricanto Penultimate of July.

Prejudiced Aggression by Raúl Sánchez
A Poem for All Our Murdered Youth by Jesus Cortez
Untitled by Karina Oliva
Verdict by Maritza Rivera
Trayvon In All of Us by Frank de Jesus Acosta


Prejudiced Aggression
by Raúl Sánchez


Somewhere a mother weeps
a father laments the loss
of their son, a teenager named Trayvon

profiled, haunted like a beast
because he “looked” like he was
up-to-no-good

followed by a trigger happy hunter
whose obsession with guns
whose lack of authority

chased a young kid with a hoodie on
to keep the rain off his head
walking to the closest store

to buy candy and a bottle of tea
suspicious looking in the eye
of the hunter who approached

his prey in the dark.
In the dark all cats are black
some run and hide when chased

this boy looked dark against
the pavement, the asphalt on that
moonless night

he defended himself
he fought his aggressor
he lost the fight

against leaded fire
from a coward who did not know
how to fight

but used a gun to claim
he stood his ground
meanwhile the body of Trayvon

lays below the ground

Raúl comes from a place south where the sun shines fiercely, where Indigenous and European cultures collided. An avid collector of poetry books proclaimed himself a “thrift store junkie” who occasionally volunteers as a DJ for KBCS 91.3 FM. He conducts workshops on The Day of the Dead. Featured in the program for the 2011 Burning Word Poetry Festival in Leavenworth WA He is also a Translator. His most recent work is the translation of John Burgess’ Punk Poems in his book Graffito and his ardent inaugural collection “All Our Brown-Skinned Angels” published by MoonPath Press out of Kingston WA is filled with poems of cultural identity, familial and personal, a civil protest, personal celebration, completely impassioned. His book has been nominated for the Washington State Book Award in Poetry for 2013 and available on line through the big A. or: http://moonpathpress.com additional information at: http://beyondaztlan.com




A Poem for All Our Murdered Youth
by Jesus Cortez


Home of the Brave

Here lie the bodies of our children
your children, my children,
laying next to fences,
bodies with bullets,
hungry bellies
border patrol with guns
children with hungry mouths

Here lie the remains of
a body, a child,
somebody’s daughter,
bombs made in America
paid with your money
dropped by your heroes
innocence murdered

Here lie the bodies of children
rocks in hands, last defense
no options behind walls
of shame, walls of apartheid
in the name of freedom
in the name of protecting
Israeli democracy

Here lie the hopes of a world
from Oakland to Anaheim,
California to Sanford, Florida,
to the Arizona border,
to Iraq, to Afghanistan,
to Palestine, to Chiapas,
to Guerrero, Mexico

death will be our freedom
in this home of the brave.





The Verdict
by Karina Oliva

This injustice stabs my body, hurts my consciousness, almost unbearable
How many black men have served time, have had their lives stolen, on less
Than circumstantial evidence?
To be proven innocent too late
And here again a murdered child on trial
Remember too, Latasha Harlins.

How many tears cried, lives broken?
We asked for justice again, and again justice is denied
With the same foolery. We are supposed to just buy into this
That this is somehow not anti-black
Yet, a child profiled and assumed guilty for being
Tears burst from my body driven by the memory of every mother who asked for justice;
I am Trayvon Martin

If it bothers that I may say this, ask yourself why
We are Trayvon Martin

If the jurors had seen him as their son too, maybe justice would have been granted
The way the people wanted
To give his parents justice
Forced to hear their son wailing for help with his last breath
Instead of cradling his first cry into this world, trusting
Trusting us, this world, in trust
We failed Trayvon Martin

An injustice committed before even stalked while walking home
With the double talk
When we tell our children to run when approached by an aggressor and if caught, to fight
To save their lives
Unless we are like Trayvon Martin

This ache inflicted by their verdict
Will not be buried away
Cannot ever be again
For the sake of us all
And the memory of Trayvon Martin.

Karina Oliva has published in Mujeres de Maiz Zine, hispanicLA.com, La Bloga, and Poets Responding to SB1070. She is an original member of the poetry collective EndDependence, and edited an anthology of poetry, Desde el epicentro in 2007. Her books of poems is titled, Transverse (2009) published by Izote Press. Most recently, her poems are part of the ¡Ban This! The BSP Anthology of Xicana/o Literature (2012). She currently teaches on U.S. Central American and Chicana/o topics in the Chicana and Chicano Studies Department at UCLA. You can reach her on fb or at karinaoliva@ucla.edu.







Verdict
by Maritza Rivera


Wearing a hoodie
anywhere in this country
should not cost your life!

Maritza Rivera (aka Mariposa) is a Puerto Rican poet who lives in Rockville, MD. She has been writing poetry for over forty years and is the creator of a short form of poetry called Blackjack. Maritza is the author of About You; A Mother’s War, written during her son’s two tours in Iraq; Baker’s Dozen; Twenty-One: Blackjack Poems and her work appears in literary magazines, anthologies and online publications. Maritza is a contributor to Poets Responding to SB1070, a supporter of the Memorial Day Writers Project (MDWP) and participates in the Warrior Poetry Project at the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, MD. She was the recipient of a 2012 BID International Writing Fellowship in Bahia, Brazil and has been accepted to attend the 2013 Bread Loaf Writers Conference in Sicily. Maritza also serves on the Board of Directors of Split This Rock in Washington, DC and hosts the annual Mariposa Poetry Retreat at the Capital Retreat Center in Waynesboro, PA.





Trayvon In All of Us
by Frank de Jesus Acosta

Trayvon in you, Trayvon in me; yearning for justice that leads to peace
Everyone’s child, beautiful ancient bloodline prince; taken from us all too soon
The malevolent hand of racism, cloaked in the veil of the vanguard creed
Born suspect, tried, convicted, and killed for the crime of being you
To be Black and hues of Brown in America is to be devalued as a human-being
Yes! Arrest the killer, but also arrest the disease; for bigotry unchecked is contagious
Wake up America, bear witness in truth to the color of poverty and privilege
The pendulum of justice is a sledgehammer on some, a larceny license for others
Prison plantations smack of Antebellum, deportations south, a new trail of tears
The “hood” has risen as the symbol of justice under a banner of solidarity
Trayvon’s tragic murder, is emblematic of what ails this promise land
Trayvon in you, Trayvon in me must manifest as the power of love
Violence begets violence, hate begets hate; the good road is virtue, dignity, & truth
No bullets of vengeance, nor making of another martyr, shall heal these open wounds
Ancient bloodline prince clutched the sweetness of many colors in his hands
Trayvon in you, Trayvon in me; the sweetness of many colors is Trayvon in us

Frank de Jesus Acosta is a writer and the principal strategist of Acosta & Associates, a California-based consultant group that specializes in community change ventures facilitated by non-profit management, organization capacity-building, fund development, project research/planning/development, and initiative management activities targeting philanthropic, non-profit, government institutions. Acosta is a graduate of University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). Acosta’s professional experience includes serving as a Sr. Program Officer with The California Wellness Foundation, as well as executive leadership tenures with the Coalition for Humane Immigration Rights of Los Angeles (CHIRLA), Downtown Immigrant Advocates (DIA), National Center for Community Change, and the UCLA Community Programs Office. In 2007, Acosta authored a book published by the Arte Publico Press Hispanic Civil Rights Series, University of Houston, “The History of Santa Cruz Barrios Unidos, Cultura Es Cura, Healing Community Violence.”

La Guaca

A Mexican Fable

By Daniel A. Olivas

There was a man who owned the finest restaurant in the village.  Though no name adorned the establishment, the villagers dubbed it La Guaca.  The man, as well, had no name, at least none that the villagers knew.  He was a complete mystery, a man apparently with no family, no origin, no history.  They called him El Huérfano.

One evening, as the villagers gorged themselves on enchiladas, tamales and other delectable dishes, El Huérfano rose from his usual seat at the corner table and cleared his throat.  The room fell into silence.

“I plan to take a bride,” said El Huérfano to the startled villagers.  “But,” he cautioned with a raised, elegant finger, “she must be perfect in every way.”

Most of the families had at least one unmarried daughter because the Revolution had taken from this earth most of the village’s eligible young men.  So, this announcement raised great hope in the hearts of the parents and their daughters.  “I invite all of the village’s Señoritas to feast here tomorrow night,” said El Huérfano.  “No one else may come.  And I will choose my wife from among the guests.”

“How will you choose?” an older woman asked.  But El Huérfano turned and disappeared through a back door.  A great cheer filled the void because this mysterious but wealthy man would make someone’s perfect daughter a bride.

The next evening, all of the village’s single women swarmed La Guaca dressed in all their finery.  Though El Huérfano was not the handsomest of men, times were hard and there was little chance of living a comfortable life without a marriage of convenience.  Remarkably, all of the women found seats in La Guaca and they waited. The tables sighed with great platters of food and bottles of fine brandy.  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, El Huérfano appeared.

“As you know,” he began, “I search for the perfect wife.”

The room murmured in anticipation.

“Before you sits a great feast,” he continued noticing one particular beauty who sat motionless amidst the others.  “But it is poisoned.”

A horrified gasp rose from the young women.

“The poison is so potent, it will kill in a matter of minutes.”  El Huérfano now whispered: “But it will not harm a perfect woman.  If you wish to leave, please do.  Otherwise, enjoy your dinner.”

Only one woman stood and left.  The others slowly served themselves and commenced eating each believing that she would survive.  After a few minutes, the first victim fell.  And then there was another and yet another.  Finally, only the most beautiful woman was left.  She stood and walked to him.

“You shall be my wife,” he said as he moved his lips to hers.

She leaned forward and they kissed.  El Huérfano could taste the wonderful feast from the beauty’s lips.  But then his eyes bulged and he fell back.

“No!” he sputtered as he dropped to the floor.

“Yes, my love,” said the beautiful woman. “Yes.”

[“La Guaca” first appeared in The Vestal Review and is featured in Devil Talk: Stories (Bilingual Press, 2004), as well as in the anthologies You Have Time for This: Contemporary American Short-Short Stories (Ooligan Press, 2007), and Sudden Fiction Latin : Short-Short Stories from the United States and Latin America  (W. W. Norton, 2010).]

Interview with Xánath Caraza on her poetry and fiction: _Conjuro_ & _Lo que trae la marea/What the Tide Brings_

_Conjuro_ (Mammoth Publications, 2012)

Amelia M.L. Montes:  Saludos Xánath!  Muchisimas gracias for being with La Bloga today.  Most importantly, felicidades on your recent success with your book of poetry, Conjuro (Mammoth Publications, 2012).

Xánath Caraza: First of all, gracias for the interview.  I’m happy to share a few ideas with La Bloga and everyone else, and thankful to all who have read and given awards to Conjuro.

_Lo que trae la marea/What The Tide Brings_
Cover by Mexican artist, Lorenia Tamborrell
(Mouthfeel Press, available August 2013)

I’m humbled for all the success Conjuro has received and this brings more energy to my life.  It keeps me wanting to write more.  Suddenly at one point, I began to receive notifications that Conjuro was an Award Winning Finalist in the 'Fiction: Multicultural' category of the 2013 International Book Awards.  A few weeks later, Conjuro was awarded second place in the ‘Best Poetry Book in Spanish’ category and it also received honorable mention in the ‘Best First Book in Spanish, Mariposa Award’ category of the 2013 International Latino Book Awards. 

Previously, I had been named number one of the 2013 Top Ten “New” Latino Authors to Watch (and Read) by LatinoStories.com.

Conjuro en España!

Amelia M.L. Montes:  All well deserved. The book is a wonderful mix of your indigenous, African, Mexican, and Midwest U.S. connections. Tell us about the various mix of cultures and language in your poetry. 

Xánath Caraza:  In terms of the multicultural aspects of Conjuro, I’m concerned with linguistic expressions, education, race, women’s rights, origin and history.  The fact that I was able to convince my mother to help me translate “Mujer” into Nahuatl, “Sihualt” is a definite opportunity to celebrate my indigenous roots.  I also tried to include Nahuatl as much as my ability to use the language allowed.  I have always explained that I don’t speak Nahuatl fluently; I wish I did.  However, I grew up listening to it and I do remember sounds, and mostly rhythms of the Nahuatl language. They were green sounds, from the open spaces of my grandmother’s indigenous community.  Consciously, I’ve included them, because I’m proud to belong to one of the oldest original groups of people in the Americas.

Rayo de luna

Vientre fértil que devora y da vida

Hoja que cae con el otoño

Manos que peinan, manos que hornean, manos que limpian

Ray of the moon

Fertile womb that devours and brings life

Leaf that falls in autumn

Hands that comb, hands that bake, hands that clean

Sahuantli tlen messtli

Sihuayo tlamantiketl tlen tlapasulmana uan texmaka tonenlis

Sihuatl tlen uesi ika ne meestli

Majtli tlen tshiljuia, majtli tlen tlaikxitia, majtli tlen tlapopoua

“Macuilxochitzin” is a poem in which I want to celebrate women and pre-Hispanic poets.  Macuilxochitzin is the only female, Aztec poet historically recognized.  We have a poem from her; we know her name and we know that she was a female poet.  You can hear me talk about her more in the following interview done by Words on a Wire.  Here is the link:  http://ktep.org/post/words-wire-x-nath-caraza

Macuilxochitzin, poet with obsidian blood

Let the chants begin!

Let the dance start!

¡yn in cuicatl!

¡yn maconnetotilo!

I have also tried to celebrate my African heritage through my writing. “Yanga” is a poem where I celebro las palabras, la gente, la ascendencia and Louis Reyes Rivera.  Meeting Louis Reyes Rivera in Kansas City was a life changing experience for me.  He was a professor, an excellent performer, a Latino, Puerto Rican, and not just Latino, African Latino.   The combination of everything that makes up who he is was key for me.  In a manner, he summarized in life, right in front of my eyes, what I was looking for.  As I have mentioned before, I have an indigenous background and Spanish, too. As well, I know I have an African background, both from northern Africa and because of the fact that I am from Veracruz and through the Port of Veracruz the people who were enslaved were brought to Mexico.  I likely have African blood for that reason, too.   When I heard Louis Reyes Rivera read his work, I was completely moved. He read from his book, Scattered Scriptures, both in Spanish, English, Spanglish.  The rhythms he produced in front of me were incredible.

Amelia M.L. Montes:  What a fortuitous meeting!  And what benefits for the reader to have “Yanga” available to them in Conjuro.

Xánath Caraza:  Yanga is one of my favorite historical figures, and I’m going to quote myself from a previous interview with Letras Latinas, http://latinopoetryreview.blogspot.com/2012/07/xanath-caraza-book-review-interview.html. “In Veracruz, we learn about Yanga early in grammar school, and as mentioned in the poem there is a town named after him.  At the University of Missouri-Kansas City I took a course, where I decided to write my final paper about African influences in Mexico.  I prepared with a great deal of sources, and I was also invited to present about African Mexicans at the American Jazz Museum in Kansas City.  There are other African historical figures in Mexican history, but Yanga had already been playing those drums for me for a long time.  I try to imagine him, first surviving from wherever he was caught in inland Africa and taken to the coast, most likely in West Africa.  Then it impacts me to think about the fact of having survived the actual Middle Passage from West Africa to Cuba most likely.  Finally, he must have traveled from Cuba to Veracruz, still in the worst of conditions.  Then can you imagine being sold at the slave market in the port of Veracruz, having lived in terrible conditions?  Finally, in spite of everything, he had the courage and both the physical and mental strength to escape and along the way organize other runaway people who had been enslaved.  In the end, their settlement was attacked at least one time that we know of.  This settlement was finally recognized as the first free zone in the American colonies. Of course the scary side of the story is that if any of the new free African men were caught outside the limits of the village, they could be returned to slavery. However, I think that what he did was amazing, and very important for Mexican and Latin American history.  He should be celebrated much more frequently.  Now, in relation to my word selection, I believe, or at least want to believe that those are the words that Yanga most likely said aloud, too. That was his language and through my voice he is with us. I don’t have anything of his, but his words and his courage that needs to be remembered.

Amelia M.L. Montes:  Whenever you read this poem, your voice carries the weight of this history—melodic, pained, powerful.  Describe your process in creating the rhythms in this poem.    

Xánath Caraza:  As for the sound-driven form, that was thanks to Louis Reyes Rivera.  If you listen to him, you’ll see what I’m talking about, and his words, “Never be afraid of the inner sounds you hear.””

Here is a link where you can hear me read “Yanga”, http://www.kcur.org/post/poet-xanath-caraza-summons-african-roots-mexico

Yanga, Yanga, Yanga,

Yanga, Yanga, Yanga,

Hoy, tu espíritu invoco

Aquí, en este lugar.

Este, este es mi poema para Yanga,

Mandinga, malanga,  bamba.

Rumba, mambo, samba,

Palabras llegadas de África.

Yanga, Yanga, Yanga

Yanga, Yanga, Yanga

Today, your spirit I invoke

Here, in this place

This, this is my poem for Yanga

Mandinga, malanga, bamba

Rumba, mambo, samba.

Words having arrived from Africa

Amelia M.L. Montes:  And now you have a book of short stories soon to be released:  August 2013, this time with Mouthfeel Press. How did you come about this title and the stories? Did you write them over a number of years or did you have a definite vision for a book of stories? 

Xánath Caraza:  I would like to start by sharing one of the blurbs for Lo que trae la marea / What the Tide Brings (Mouthfeel Press, 2013):

Xánath Caraza's book of fiction, Lo que trae la marea/What the Tide Brings is a poetic song narrative that speaks of love and deep loss.  These photographic narrative portraits contain jubilant, brooding, sensual characters woven within deftly-crafted rich descriptions of land and atmosphere:  the way humid air can be so thick, the sounds of rain on foliage.  And like Octavio Paz's story, "My Life with the Wave," Caraza's narrator in "Scofield Hall 207" becomes pure meta-narrative.  However, instead of a Paz-like wave emerging from sea, Caraza's character "comes up out of the paper," pulling the writer into the page.  These are complex, beautiful stories carefully crafted with a fine-tuned rhythm.  You can hear the music as you read, each phrase a tactile beat.  

--Amelia María de la Luz Montes

Amelia M.L. Montes:  I mean every word of this blurb, Xánath!  It was such an enjoyable read.  So tell us about your process.  How did this book of short stories come about?  And a reminder that it is bilingual as well. 

Xánath Caraza:  I wrote the title story while I was living in Vermont, in the middle of the winter.  In that particular short story, I was trying to celebrate the tropics, the sea, history and language.  However, for the other short stories, I was inspired by politics, social issues, or female perspectives on events. 

The draft I wrote last summer (2012) was during my writer’s residency in Spain.  However, I have a combination of short stories that I wrote almost twenty years ago in Mexico, but when I sat down to read them, I realized that some of those old stories had good ideas.  So, in the summer of 2012, I revised them, selected a few and rewrote them.  These are now completely new stories. Other stories in the collection I wrote, from scratch, in Spain, and other stories were already in progress from Kansas City and I finished them last summer.  Remember that this was the Spanish version of the manuscript.  The next step was to translate it.  I had some stories already translated and published, but just finished the whole translation of Lo que trae la marea / What the Tide Brings in November, 2012, in Kansas City.  For this collection, I had to work with two more translators, Stephen Holland-Wempe and Sandra Kingery, who translated a few short stories. Gracias, Steve y Sandy.

Maria Miranda Maloney, editor of Mouthfeel Press, was instrumental in inspiring me to write.  She wanted to hear a female voice as a short story writer.  I have published a couple of books of poetry, Corazón Pintado: Ekphrastic Poems (TL Press, 2012) and Conjuro (Mammoth Publications, 2012).  I’m a poet, too, and had started publishing short stories years ago.  Maria Miranda wanted an opportunity to publish a collection of short stories by a female author.  So, me puse a trabajar or should I say, me puso a trabajar.

In addition to Maria’s inspiration for me, the political sphere in Latin America and the USA is reflected in my collection of short stories.  I respond to political events, people’s stories and art.  In several stories, I respond to poetry, other writers and books as well. 

Amelia M.L. Montes:  Does this book do what Conjuro does: represent a mix of your influences: indigenous, African, Mexican, U.S. Midwest?

Xánath Caraza:  Yes, I think it represents a mix of my influences, indigenous, African, Mexican, U. S. Midwest.

For example in “Agua pasa por mi casa, a mi casa se viene a soñar” and other stories, the reader will be confronted with an indigenous world mixed with an urban contemporary world, too.

Tecuixpo tomó entre sus manitas una pitaya roja como el cielo del amanecer, la subió a su boca y un chorrito de jugo se escapó de entre sus labios.  A continuación levantó una rebanada del anaranjado zapote mamey.  La fuerza de sus deditos la aplastó y con gusto de niña se la comió de un sólo bocado.  Bebió un sorbo de la humeante jícara labrada con chocolate caliente, absorbiendo su aroma en cada trago.  Tecuixpo estaba feliz, hoy vería a su padre, el emperador Moctezuma.

Tecuichpo took a pitaya fruit, red like the sky at dawn, into her small hands, raised it to her mouth, and a trickle of juice slipped from her lips.  Next was a slice of orange sapodilla mamey.  Her lively little fingers crushed it and with a child’s pleasure she gobbled it up in a single bite.  She drank hot chocolate from the steaming carved gourd, imbibing its smell with every sip.  Tecuichpo was happy, today she would see her father, the emperor Moctezuma.

The title story is based in the Port of Veracruz and the main characters are of African descent.

Caminaban por la ciudad y para el anochecer remataban en el parque para el baile público del fin de semana.  Los domingos la banda de la ciudad tocaba danzones para todos.  Su madre la cargaba entre sus brazos y Perla tomaba de la mano a su padre y los tres al ritmo de danzón bailaban a la luz de los faroles coloniales que alumbraban, con una tenue luz amarilla, el parque. 

Perla’s parents would walk through the city and at dusk would end up at the park for a weekend dance open to the public.  On Sundays, the city band usually played Danzón songs for all to hear.  Her mother would hold Perla in her arms and Perla would take her father’s hand.  The three of them would dance to the rhythm of Danzón under the colonial street lamps which would illuminate the park with a faint yellow light.

In many of the stories, the reader will find a landscape from the Midwest, for example in “First Friday in Kansas City”. 

Dicen que la vieron entre las calles Baltimore y la 19^th.  Esa noche el reflejo de la luna sobre el pavimento blanco de la acera la iluminó.  En el horizonte aun se vislumbraba un haz de luz rosada que se iba difuminando en lo que quedaba del cielo rojo y morado.  Sus pasos resonaban en la calle.  Inés caminaba entre edificios de los años treinta y otros de arquitectura contemporánea.  Esos edificios eran los testigos inmóviles de la historia de la ciudad.  Algunos estaban vacios, a otros los habían convertido en galerías de arte y colores intensos atravesaban sus grandes ventanas.

It is said that she was seen between the streets of Baltimore and 19^th.  That night the reflection of the moon on the white pavement of the sidewalk illuminated her.   In the horizon a beam of pink light could still be made out, which was fading in what was left of the red and purple sky.  Her steps echoed on the street.  Inés was walking between buildings from the 30’s and others of contemporary architecture.  These buildings were the stationary witnesses of the city’s history.  Some were empty; others had been converted into art galleries and intense colors went through their large windows. 

However, there are other stories that go beyond my influences.  They are based in Barcelona, China or Mexico to mention a few places.  

Cuando finalmente Nezahualcóyotl acabó de recitar, aspiro profundamente la última de las estrofas de lo que había sido Venus.  Su corazón no dejaba de palpitar y en silencio miró hacia el sol mientras se deleitaba con el rosado atardecer frente al mar.  Comenzó a recitar otro poema con renovada fuerza.  Su voz emitió un nuevo oleaje de pasión.  Entró al mar lentamente y lo último que sintió fue el azul profundo del Mediterráneo chocando contra su pecho.

When Nezahualcoyotl finally finished reciting, he inhaled the last of the stanzas deeply of what had been Venus before.  His heart couldn’t stop beating and silently he looked at the sun while enjoying the pink dusk before the sea.  He started reciting another poem with renewed strength.  His voice put forward a new wave of passion.  He slowly went into the sea and what he last felt was the deep blue of the Mediterranean Sea crashing against his chest.

My vision concentrates on female voices, their dreams, their struggles, life in general.

Lo que trae la marea, What the Tide Brings gathers compelling and memorable stories by Xánath Caraza, a writer whose acute sense of narrative and incisive characters linger in the reader’s mind, or at least they did in mine. These stories gathered as if beads on a string reflect the passions, inquietudes, those certain yearnings a writer harbors for her work, and those of the unique and compelling characters who people the various locations where the stories are set.

--Norma Cantú 

Amelia M.L. Montes:  Who are the writers that influenced you, that brought you to Lo que trae la marea, What the Tide Brings?

Xánath Caraza:

Bless me, Última by Rudolfo Anaya who has been always present in my writing ever since I was first introduced to him years ago.  

La niña blanca y los pájaros sin pies by Rosario Aguilar from Nicaragua is a collection of short stories that I simply adore.  It shares the stories of women moving and living between worlds. 

Canícula by Norma Cantú from the U.S.. I simply love it. The strength of memory, images, and her childhood impacted me deeply, when I first read it. 

El fantasma y el poeta by Carmen Boullosa from Mexico is a collection of short stories that I think of because of the use of language in Spanish and the use of time in the stories.

La rebelión de los niños by Cristina Peri Rossi from Uruguay was literally carved in my mind the first time I read it.  She describes the political atmosphere in Latin America through her short stories. I have a couple of stories inspired from her work.

And then, among others, Cortazar, Rulfo, Borges, Fuentes, Castellanos, Marguerite Yourcenar, Simone de Beauvoir and Marguerite Duras.

Amelia M.L. Montes:  You are recently returned from Spain and other travels as well.  Tell us about your travels. Did you give readings? What do readers ask about most that may be different from readers here in the U.S.?

Xánath Caraza:  I just came back from Spain, but I was also in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Switzerland and Italy.  I was originally invited to the X Festival Internacional de Poesía (X FIP) ciudad de Granada from May 6 – 11, 2013. http://www.fipgranada.com/  I received an invitation to the X FIP in December of 2012 and I was absolutely thankful for the recognition of my work and invitation to the festival.

X Festival Internacional de Poesía in Granada, Spain (photo by David Cruz)

This is one of the best poetry festivals in Spain and I was honored to be part of it.  The directors of the Festival are Poets, Fernando Valverde, Daniel Rodríguez Moya and Javier Bozalongo.  Among previous poets invited to the FIP are Luis Alberto Ambroggio, Claribel Alegría, Maram al-Masri, Mario Vargas Llosa and Nathalie Handal just to mention a few. I had the opportunity to read several times during the festival, and very proud to say that I read in Nahuatl, and had a couple of radio interviews on Tres en la carretera, conducted by Isabel Ruiz Lara.  This radio broadcast in Spain happens to be a close equivalent to NPR.  Here are the links:

The following link is an interview mixed with a poetry reading.  My interview started at minute six and continued until minute thirty-seven. Link:

http://www.rtve.es/alacarta/audios/tres-en-la-carretera/tres-carretera-mexico-tan-cerca-estados-unidos-cerca-cerca-mexico-22-06-13/1872712/

The following link is a live recording of one of the presentations for the X Festival Internacional de Poesía ciudad de Granada; I read one poem at minute 27:20. Link:  

http://www.rtve.es/alacarta/audios/tres-en-la-carretera/tres-carretera-granada-poesia-11-05-13/1814609/

As I previously mentioned, I was in Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Croatia; it was my introduction to the Balkans.  I had the opportunity to have coffee in Sarajevo with Ivo Markovic, a priest and activist working to rebuild peace in this part of the world. 

Xánath Caraza on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea

From this experience, I wrote a few poems, and plan on writing more.  One of my poems had just been published in Belgrado, Serbia by Javier Gutiérrez Lozano, poet and editor of Revista Reflejo.  Here is the link to a brief introduction of my poetry and my poem, “Hacia el este” where I reflect on my experience in Bosnia & Herzegovina, Croatia, and the Peace Building Process in that part of the world through the eyes of Aida, a wonderful peace builder; I also had the chance to meet her and spend a couple of days with her. Link:  

http://reflejo.drustvohispanista.rs/rubrike_clanak.php?p=meksicka-poezija-na-americki-nacin

I then returned to Granada where I spent most of my time writing and reading about contemporary poets mostly from Granada.  I was working on my fourth and fifth books of poetry, in addition to another short story collection and a translation project.

In a nutshell, that’s what I have been recently working on.

Amelia M.L. Montes:  When did you begin writing?

Xánath Caraza:  I started writing at an early age, but I began publishing in a more formal way when I was eighteen years old.  However, not until recently did I have the chance to publish my chapbook, Corazón Pintado: Ekphrastic Poems (TL Press, 2012), my full-length book of poetry, Conjuro (Mammoth Publications, 2012) and soon to be released, my short story collection, Lo que trae la marea / What the Tide Brings (Mouthfeel Press, 2013). 

Amelia M.L. Montes:  What is your writing process? The energy I receive from your poems and stories is one of deep commitment. Tell us about your writing practice.

Xánath Caraza:  I don’t think I have a ritual about writing, but I write every day.  That may be my ritual.  I don’t burn candles, play any specific music or anything like that, but I’m very focused on what I do.  I always try to give my 100% to what I’m committed to.  I also have priorities in my life and writing is at the top of my list.  I read every day; that’s a habit I need to thank my father for.  He was careful enough to guide my readings when I grew up, as well as my aunt, his older sister, and they both always made sure I was around books.  I did not grow up with luxuries, but what I always remember are books.  

Xánath Caraza's writing desk en España

I think that if I have to come up with ritual, it would be reading every day and writing, even for a few minutes, every day, as well.  I don’t have a favorite place for writing.  My favorite place is where I can plug in my computer, or wherever I can find a sheet of paper or a notebook and a pen.  I also write in-between my daily activities, classes, readings, meals. I have a busy schedule during the semester, but I’m always making notes, I write a stanza here, another one there, or jot down an idea for a short story here and there and uno a uno, gotitas de poesía, fluyen los versos o los cuentos. 

Amelia M.L. Montes:  Poco a poco—with discipline!  Yes.  I want to go back to your description of many cultures in your writing and I’d like to place a special focus on the Midwest because Latinos and Latino writing is not often placed with “Midwest” in discussions.  What does the Midwest represent for you? How does it influence your writing?

Xánath Caraza:  The Midwest is home to me.  It is incredible how much it permeates in my writing.  I don’t always realize, but it is there.  It’s consistently there: the landscape, the people and events that happen in our tierra del centro.

Amelia M.L. Montes:  How did you come about creating such strong roots in the Midwest (specifically Kansas City, Missouri). Tell me about this connection. What has drawn you to the Midwest that means "home" to you.

Xánath Caraza:  First of all, my partner in life is here, in Kansas City.  That’s an easy answer. That’s what makes home the Midwest to me.  It is true that I have lived in Kansas City for many years.  I adore Kansas City, Missouri.  It’s the perfect place for me.  Kansas City is beautiful and diverse; we have Latino families going back for three or four generations or more.  We have wonderful, historic jazz by African American artists and artists of other ethnicities.  The American Jazz Museum here in Kansas City is a tribute to our diverse jazz past and present.  Likewise, we are very fortunate to have an arts district in our city, where artists of many diverse identities create and exhibit their work. We have a significant cultural presence in our city.  We have an Asian community, Persian, Vietnamese, Chinese and more.  Diversity is important to me.  I wrote about this in a poem for America Now and Here, 2011, celebrating the diversity of Kansas City.

Art Deco forest of concrete with echoes of Charlie Parker’s jazz 

Confluence of plumed serpents of water

Grilled Midwest Caravaggio with a twice baked peeping Tom Benton on the side

Poems for la luna roja in Osage, French, English, Ebonics y español

           

Prayers to an ancient Mayan jade goddess for Japan’s nuclear crisis and the Libyan war 

La migra perhaps me confunda with no time for collecting poems nor pens

Sounds from the past and present, Nahuatl, Wolof, English y español,

Produce spiral linguistic symbols, tornadoes in the soul

Turquoise branches, good fortune dragons, Djembe drums, the green of quetzal,

Amber baklava and Sor Juana’s poems, renewed life to the murals of the city walls

Amelia M.L. Montes:  Thank you, Xanath.  Those are gorgeous lines delineating the rich and complex cultural aspects of the Midwest. Is there anything else you would like to tell us?

Xánath Caraza:  Just to thank you and La Bloga for the opportunity to share my work.  Hope you all enjoy Lo que trae la marea / What the Tide Brings (Mouthfeel Press, 2013), a bilingual collection of short stories that will challenge readers and invite them to hear female points of view from the past, from contemporary times and from the timeframes that happen only in the pages of a book.  I’m sure readers will travel with me along the waves of Lo que trae la marea / What the Tide Brings.

"These stories, linked by deep currents of yearning and loss will flow into your heart.  Deceptively direct, wonderfully understated, and filled with beautiful imagery--there is real talent in Xanath Caraza's "What the Tide Brings." Lucrecia Guerrero, author of Tree of Sighs, winner of the Premio Aztlán Literary Award

Amelia M.L. Montes:  Thank you Xánath.  And for all La Bloga readers:  a reminder to order Xánath’s new book of short fiction, Lo que trae la marea/What the Tide Brings at Mouthfeel Press (Click Here)!  Sending you all warm saludos!

BIO:  Xánath Caraza is a traveler, educator, poet and short story writer. She was named number one of the 2013 Top Ten “New” Latino Authors to Watch (and Read) by LatinoStories.com. Originally from Xalapa,Veracruz, Mexico, she has lived in Vermont and Kansas City. She has an M.A. in Romance Languages. She lectures in Foreign Languages and Literatures at the University of Missouri-Kansas City. Her short story collection, Lo que trae la marea/ What the Tide Brings In (2013) is from Mouthfeel Press. Her full-length book of poetry Conjuro (2012) is from Mammoth Publications and her chapbook Corazón Pintado: Ekphrastic Poems (2012) is from TL Press. Caraza writes the US Latino Poets en español column, a collaboration between Letras Latinas and Periódico de Poesía. She won the 2003 Ediciones Nuevo Espacio international short story contest in Spanish and was a 2008 finalist for the first international John Barry Award. Caraza is an advisory circle member of the Con Tinta literary organization and a former board member of the Latino Writers Collective in Kansas City. She has taught in Mexico, Brazil, China, Spain and the US. Caraza is currently working on a collection of ekphrastic poems with the artist Juan Chawuk. Her Day of the Dead Art work has been exhibited at the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, MO.