ALEX ESPINOZA desde Guadalajara

The little charro atop the fake horse—decked out in a sombrero and boots—is none other than me when I was just five years old. I’d come to Guadalajara with my mother and older brother. He was to wed a woman from a nearby village despite the fact that the two had never met. It was, in a sense, an arranged marriage, one that, I’m happy to say, is still going strong. What I remember from that first visit comes to me in fragments and shards now—getting fitted for a spiffy tux, an ornate church with fragrant candles burning besides fresh flowers, music, food, old Mexican women stroking my hair and calling me “guapo.”

Flash forward. Here I am again, much older, with less hair, back in the city where that very picture was taken. After a bumpy red eye from Fresno, I arrived in Guadalajara early in the morning, followed a throng of bleary-eyed passengers lugging suitcases, televisions, bags of used clothing, and Dora the Explorer blankets out into the bustling lobby of the Guadalajara International Airport. The memories came back, and I was five again, eager, inquisitive, peering into the faces in the crowd looking for someone to recognize—an uncle, an aunt, a distant cousin. Maite and Juan Carlos, two representatives from the Guadalajara International Book Festival greeted me, holding a sign with my name. We shook hands enthusiastically with one another, and though we had all just met, I was immediately at ease in their presence. It was a different Guadalajara, both Maite and Juan Carlos assured me after I told them about my horse picture yet, as we made our way towards the Victoria Express Hotel, I gazed out the car window and could see that it was just as lovely and exciting as I remembered as a kid long ago.

After a hot shower and a brief nap, I awoke, too excited to sit in my hotel room alone, checking email and Facebooking. I gathered my things, went down to the lobby, and was whisked away to the book festival. Sharing the ride with me was Veronique de Turenne who just so happened to be moderating the panel I planned on attending later in the afternoon. Veronique and I had a wonderful conversation about the striking similarities between Guadalajara and LA, the wonderful food, and all the great writers representing the city of LA, our shared home, the place we love so fiercely, so unconditionally. We admitted our love for television and griped about the lack of Latino/a faces in shows set in LA.

Veronique and I parted ways, and I spent the hours leading up to the panel strolling through the exhibition, admiring all the booths, all the brown faces with their noses buried in books. There were schoolgirls in flashy plaid skirts and glittery barrettes in their hair, boys in Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirts, sporting spiked hair and old school Converses, the same kind I was wearing. I was completely overtaken by the mass of people, the lights, the music, and the cherry low riders on display. How ironic, I found myself thinking, that I had to travel so far to really appreciate the city of Los Angeles. I felt proud to be representing, felt aglow, truly at home again.

Veronique moderated a panel titled, “You Can’t Make This Stuff Up: LA Non-Fiction.” The panelists included D.J. Waldie, Jenny Price, and Héctor Tobar. Tobar answered all of his questions in Spanish, and he spoke with honesty and sincerity about his experiences as an Angelino, the racial segregation that still exists in one of the most ethnically diverse city in the country, about the all to often erroneous myths associated with the city of Los Angeles.

Afterwards, I strolled around some more, took in more of the sights and sounds of the book festival, was completely taken by the size and scope of the entire production. I ran into my good friend Dagoberto Gilb, and it was great to see his big, smiling face again, to reconnect with him, to hear him laugh. Dagoberto was accompanied by Héctor Tobar, and I had an opportunity to tell him just how much I enjoyed his discussion earlier.

I ended my day by attending the panel, “What Makes an LA Writer?” The panel was moderated by Laurie Ochoa and included Gary Phillips, D.J. Waldie—who was just as smart and knowledgeable as he’d been on the earlier panel I attended—Jonathan Gold, and my good friend Yxta Maya Murray. Always charming and witty, Yxta kept the audience laughing with her tales of growing up among the palm trees and perfect weather, sitting alone in her room, reading, and waiting for something big to happen. She said (I’m paraphrasing here) “Things were supposed to happen in LA. Exciting things. Big things. And there I was in my room, reading. I didn’t have many friends.”

The audience included Denise Hamilton and the talented Nina Revoyr. I ended the day with a small bite to eat in the hotel restaurant accompanied by Nina. We caught up, talked about our dogs, our writing lives, and how odd it is that we sometimes have to leave home to understand it better, how we find ourselves together, here, so far away, yet so connected.

Tomorrow finds me on two panels: “Chicanismo,” moderated by my former teacher and good friend Susan Straight, and “The Next Angelinos: Emerging LA Writers,” also moderated by Susan Straight. The rest of the day will find me sightseeing and taking in the local color. If I’m feeling photogenic, I just may try to find a man with a camera and a fake horse. From then to now, from here to there, I send my best.

Alex 

Guadalajara FIL: Day 6

Pabellón de Los Angeles

Something rare (at least for me) happened yesterday morning at the LA Pavillion: I took a book off a shelf and made a compulsive purchase based, basically, on one poem.

STILL LIFE WITH HALTER IN ITS HAND




Sometimes the words appear singly, or in severals, 
thrilled to be invited. They leap toward one another
with abandon

but once on the page they stare
blankly into space, where they're from,
or where they'd like to be.


The herd of actual horses stays bunched in the trees.
There are muffled sounds and little puffs
of dust when they stamp their feet.


The one I want comes forward
because of the apple and slips his face
through the halter.


We walk and observe crows on the wire
and the woman in pink curlers walking to the mailbox.
I think about the word transience

and imagine tracing the life of writing
in reverse, through its layers---
to rough letters on parchment,


to painted figures dancing across a wall,
drop back to plain red handprints
splayed inside the cave.

I'd like to come forward from there,
stop before the grammar's nailed down,
and find the moment there's a mind


and a hand out of sync. The hand fumbles
to note a sense the image can't evoke,
although whatever it is---loss, brevity---


suffuses every figure: person, horse, cloud, bird---
the language for abstracting heart's sorrow
apprehended, but not set down.

The author is Helen Wickes, who lives in Oakland, CA. The book is In Search of Landscape and the publisher (this is what prompted me to pick up the volume in the first place) is Sixteen Rivers Press. Here's their mission statement:

Sixteen Rivers Press is a shared-work, nonprofit poetry collective dedicated to providing an alternative publishing avenue for San Francisco Bay Area poets. Founded in 1999 by seven writers, the press is named for the sixteen rivers that flow into the San Francisco Bay.

***

I had to absent myself from the Pavillion at around 2 PM. I was asked to go across the street to the "Mexico I" room at the Hilton to, in essence, represent the NEA/L.A. delegation at a special luncheon for the winner of the Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz Prize, which is awarded to the best novel in the Spanish language every year. The 2009 winner was Mexican writer Cristina Rivera Garza.

I wasn't sure what to expect, but as luck would have it, I had the pleasure of sitting next to someone I had been encouraged to meet:  David Unger. Here's an interesting essay he published online a couple of years ago at Guernica:


Ghostwriting Gabo 


It’s a brisk October day in 1975. I’m 24, driving through Central Park with Gabriel García Márquez. As we wend our way through the park, and exit on Central Park West, I am utterly dumbstruck, afraid I’ll say something stupid to the man whose work, more than any other’s, inspired me to become a writer of fiction. García Márquez today, it hardly bears repeating, is secure in his reputation as one of the great writers of our time. He is the author of 100 Years of Solitude, which has sold 30 million copies in 35 languages; a new genre, magical realism, was spawned by this work. His bestselling Love in the Time of Cholera has been turned into a film, which opens this week in theaters. And he received the Nobel Prize for Literature, of course, in 1982. But in 1975, he is simply my idol.

***

More pics from today's photo gallery:

 

 

 

Bukowski, La Chulanga, y Vampiros

 Café Literario, Pabellón Los Angeles:

Homenaje a Charles Bukowski

I only got to experience the last 15 minutes of this session because I opted to attend "Todo, menos la historia...:La no ficción en L.A.", which was a panel discussion with Luis Rodriguez, Richard Rayner, J. Michael Walter, and Rubén Martínez, which I quite enjoyed as each of these writers had very different but insightful things to say about the Los Angeles that appears in their nonfiction.

And yet I open this post with Bukowski because when I made my way over to his homage, it was standing-room only (though you don't get that impression from this photo), with barely any room to squeeze in. There were probably, oh, 150 people present, whereas last night at Salvador Plasencia's session, there were maybe 50 people.

The Q & A session with the public was getting under way, and one of the first audience members to speak made a comment, something to the tune of (in Spanish): "The fact that this session has been held in this rather small room is evidence that Bukowski is still viewed with suspicion by the establishment, in this case the organizers of this Fair." I have to confess that I'm not overly familiar with his work, and don't have strong opinions about it. And yet I couldn't help but take note and marvel at this "Bukowski phenomena" here in Mexico.

***

Some numbers on the Guadalajara International Book Fair:

Over 17,000 industry professionals

Over half a million visitors

1,900 publishing houses from 40 countries

Over 600 activities throughout nine days of culture, trade, and books.

And so I decided to wander a bit more today and the scale seemed almost too much to take in. But it didn't take long for me to gravitate into a display area of a letterpress workshop to handle their wares. They're called Taller Ditoria and the first paragraph of their history statement reads:

Taller Ditoria was founded in 1995 by a small group of poets and artists. We set up our own printing press and letterpress type and equipment. From its beginning, the purpose of Ditoria has been to use the craft of letterpress, to preserve the traditional fine arts of the book, and to combine these with a contemporary, experimental approach to the composition of both poetry and narrative. Ditoria has published the work of eminent authors as well as emerging writers. Yet we always try to adhere to high standards of writing and design. We aim to produce unique, fine press books. In recent years Ditoria has become an important presence in the cultural landscape of México.

I ended up purchasing # 160 of 200 of a limited edition 59-page book called Acúfenos by Mónica de la Torre. 

I was also able to track down what I had set out to find: Los Vampiros de Whittier Boulevard by Juan Felipe Herrera. Gabriela Jauregui's co-editor is Regina Lira, and the translator of this 270 page selection is Santiago Román. Here is the first paragraph of Jauregui's "Foreword/Ante-Palabra":

"Whittier Boulevard: el comienzo y el final. El eje central del movimiento chicano, la avenida del este de Los Angeles que enmarca este libro. Desde aquí, Juan Felipe Herrera nos invita a pensar en un mundo más allá de las fronteras. Nos traza los caminos que lo han llevado a explorar la consciencia de la diferencia a través de una reflexión sobre las tensiones sociales del mundo contemporáneo con humor, frescura, elegancia y profunda humanidad." 


***


His name was J. Jesús Cueva Pelayo. He looked to be a gentleman in his mid to late 60s. He got around with the aid of a walker that had plastic bags hanging from it that were filling with books. He was a professor at the Instituto Tecnológico de Tijuana. At first I thought he had a question about a particular book he was looking for at the LA Pavillion, but it soon became clear that he was an ardent bibliofile who wanted to talk shop and I was happy to oblige. By the end of our 40 minute chat, he was handing me ALAMAR: Antologia 1997 - 2007 (Instituto Tecnológico de Tijuana--Taller de Literatura, 2007), a volume of poetry with 62 contributors, all of them his students at the tech school where teaches journalism and literature. He was one of three co-editors. I felt honored and touched: 


"Solo traje un ejemplar de este libro para regalárselo a alguién. Es para tí."



***

Her name was Nora Emilia and I met her yesterday. About fifteen minutes into our chat, I starting thinking that she was a character out of a Pedro Almodovar movie. Her book, published by Plaza Janés, a respectable house with branches in Spain and Mexico and other Spanish-speaking countries, was called, La Chulanga: Una mujer sin pudores registrados. It was a collection of her columns, pieces she writes for a weekly in "de-efe," she said. She was reading my mind when she said:


"Mi obra es como Sex and the City, pero más humano"

HERE'S HER WEB SITE.  


***


We'll wind down with some more pics from the FIL's photo gallery for today:

 

 

 

Los pasos de nuestra literatura

 José Emilio Pacheco in Guadalajara

A good part of the buzz yesterday at Guadalajara's FIL, on the day after he was given an homage here, was the announcement from Madrid, Spain, that José Emilio Pacheco had won the Cervantes Prize. He joins the likes of Carlos Fuentes, Jorge Luis Borges, and others who have won the Spanish language's highest literary honor.

***

Another busy day at the LA Pavilion, including running into Gabriela Jauregui, who will be taking part in a very special event on Friday----after, alas, I'm slated to be back in DC: it seems Jauregui and a co-editor have been busy preparing the publication of Los Vampiros de Whittier, a "selected poems" in Mexico by Juan Felipe Herrera, to be put out by Sur +. JFH will be here at FIL for a very special book launch, which I hope to be able to offer something about here at LLB.

***

And finally:

At Café Literario, I attended a very interesting conversation conducted by writer Aimee Bender, who interviewed her former MFA student Salvador Plascencia. In attendence were mostly young men, all of them wearing ear phones to hear the simulaneous translation from English to Spanish. And yet during the Q&A, Plascencia more than held his own answering questions posed in Spanish in Spanish.

 

Salvador Plascencia in San Francisco

Something I learned, which made the session particularly poignant:  he was born near Guadalajara, Mexico and lived the first eight years of his life in Jalisco, before his family migrated to L.A.  It was quite interesting to hear him speak about how reading titles published by Dalkey Archive Press was a seminal experience for him as an aspiring writer; how discovering and reading Tristam Shandy was another such experience. He spoke about the ambivalence he felt as a Chicano for choosing to pursue an aesthetic path that was not overtly political as he understood Chicano literature to be. And he spoke about how, even after publishing The People of Paper, he was often contacted by people (white editors I imagine) and asked to contribute pieces that were more "Mexican"; or asked to contribute something in Spanish. In short: frustration at being expected to fulfill pre-conceived notions of chicanismo or latinidad. My admiration went out to him for staying true to his vision and art and complicating, expanding, enriching our literature:

 

And then this, during the Q &A:  Luis J. Rodriguez stands and identifies himself as one of those "old school" Chicanos Plascencia had made reference to in his remarks. In essence, he says to him (I'm paraphrasing here):   

"The struggles and battles we old school Chicanos had to wage in the past was so that writers like you could pursue your art as you see fit and excercise your creative freedom fully. And those people who want to put you in some kind of straight-jacket or expect you to write about certain things, or in a certain way.....just don't understand how our literature has evolved. You're the proof and I commend and salute you."

It was a moving moment. I felt privileged to be in that room, in México.

Guadalajara Journal

Tonight I attended "Homenaje a José Emilio Pacheco" on the occasion of the poet's 70th birthday. It was fairly straightforward: a group of poets, including Pachco's long-time editor, formed a panel, which included Pacheco; they took turns reading a poem of his, offering a brief comment before each poem. Pacheco himself intervened when he felt it was relevant. It was quite an enjoyable session and I think it had to do with the tangible connection Pacheco establishes with his audience and the participants solid readings. Each panelist was adept at giving just the right length commentary before each poem. Here's a photo of Pacheco and his co-panelists before their session:

Marcelo Uribe, Emilio José Pacheco, Tamara Kamenszain,

Vicente Quirarte, Darío Jaramillo, Jorge Esquinca

***

During the day I attended a conversation between Spanish journalist Rosa Montero, and Turkish Nobel laureate, Orhan Pamuk. He was awarded the Nobel for literature in 2006. It was quite interesting dialogue that touched upon a number of subjects, including the role of politics in one's art, as well as how the Latin American boom was a huge influence on Pamuk's writing. His latest novel is The Museum of Innocence . At one point he quoted a Mexican author, whose name I failed jot down, but who had said something like, "A novelist is someone who hears voices..."

 

***

But mostly what I did today was hang out here:

 

LA Pavilion

The remaining two copies of Latinos in Lotusland (Bilingual Press) sold. The highlight, though, was engaging with a well dressed, middle-aged woman who was seated on one of the cushioned benches provided for visitors. She was paging through an English-language literary journal that includes quite a bit of poetry, which was my in:

---Le gusta leer la poesía en inglés?

---Sí, pero también los cuentos...busco algo que tenga un poco de todo.

---Si me permita, creo que tengo un libro para usted.

And with that I walked over to a book shelf and retrieved, Under the Fifth Sun: Latino Literature from California (Heyday Books), walked back and handed it to her and said:

---Este libro incluye tanto poesía como prosa Se trata de una antología que reune escritores de origin hispano pero que escriben en inglés, y que tengan una relación con California."

A native of Baja California, she ended up buying it, as well as, it turns out, De Amor Oscuro/Of Dark Love (Moving Parts Press) by Francisco X. Alarcón. Book sellers and librarians are slated to turn out in large numbers tomorrow.

***

One of the people I met yesterday was the Editor of Luvina, which is the University of Guadalajara's literary journal. His name is Victor Ortiz Partida, and he mentioned to me that their current issue is available online and is devoted to, what else, Los Angeles. Here's a link:

LUVINA

***

 And finally:

Daniel Hernández is a native of California and former journalist for the L.A. Times. He currently lives in Mexico City and is under contract with a New York house to complete a nonfiction book about the punk scene in DF. With his permission:

[...]

    We piled into a combi. These low-ceiling minivans converted into stop-and-go public transit units are as common to the long-range commute experience in Mexico City as the metro. Most people who live in the city's far-away suburbs in the State of Mexico use a combination of both---combi and metro---to go about their everyday lives. The insides of the vans are hollowed out and fitted with tiny carpeted seats. 

[...]

    "I want to show you something," Reyes said, pulling a new item out of his backback, a worn manila folder. Reyes held it as though it were a holy book. He handed it to me and I opened it delicately on my lap. Inside, page after page of old-school punk testimony. Drawings, crudely typed or scrawled personal histories, photocopied flyers and photographs. "I want to make a book," Reyes said, pressing his fingers against the papers inside. "The true history."

[...]

 an excerpt from The Lake of Fire by Daniel Hernández

Hernández made the trip to Guadalajara to hang out, and take part in one panel. He blogs HERE.

 *** 

 

Guadalajara HEARTS Los Angeles

Antonio Villaraigoisa 

Antonio Villaraigoisa, the forty-first mayor of Los Angeles, has been one of the most visible faces in the last forty-eight hours. This mid-morning the official inauguration of the Feria took place (see image below) The highlight was the presentation of its major literary award to Venezuelan poet Rafael Cadenas. But beforehand, a number of people spoke, including Villaraigoisa. During his prepared remarks, he made note of the contributions of L.A.-based artists, specifically mentioning three---though only one was a writer. It was a nice moment, therefore, hearing him give the full-house a brief sketch of fellow Macondista, Alex Espinoza, specifically naming his novel, for all to hear: Still Water Saints.

The mayor was also a bit self-deprecating about his Spanish, which sounded flawless to me. And yet at one point, when he strayed from his written remarks, his humor shone through when he said:

 "Ahora el pochito va hablar," which was greeted with warm laughter.

***

Directly after this opening session, there was a special luncheon across the street at the Hilton, where I had the pleasure of sitting with Luis J. Rodriguez and his wife Trini, who have brought a generous selection of Tia Chucha Press books. Rodriguez was also instrumental in organizing a lowrider exhibit, which has been set up beside the Los Angeles Pavilion near a gathering space called Café Literario, which will be the site of a number of events.

 

***

And speaking of Pavilions, it's the reason I'm here. I'll be stationed in this nicely designed area for the next few days as a sort of bilingual consultant for the NEA, which is underwriting this space (see image below). Among the writers whose titles I had occasion to chat up today were: Javier Huerta, whose Arte Público book is here; Tomás Riley, whose Calaca Press book is displayed; Linda Rodriguez, whose Heart's Migration is prominently placed as was Daniel  A. Olivas' fiction anthology---which sold today. The middle-aged gentleman had traveled to Guadalajara from Mexico City: he was looking for new voices in Latino narrative. "Hay un título que le va interesar," I said, as I went to fetch Olivas' edited volume. The thought pleased me: helping forge a readership one person at a time: a man named Rafael Silva will be taking Latinos in Lotusland: An Anthology of Contemporary Southern California Literature (Bilingual Press, 2008) back to DF...

 

El Pabellón de Los Angeles

***

I met some other folks worth mentioning, but I'll add them to whatever might transpire tomorrow...

Saludos Desde La Feria Internacional del Libro de Guadalajara

2009 Guadalajara International Book Fair

National Endowment for the Arts Press Release

***

 2009 Guest of Honor:

Nuestra Señora la Reina de Los Angeles

Los Angeles is the first city to participate as Guest of Honor of the Guadalajara International Book Fair. The city is presenting a program that will allow visitors to the Fair to confirm why Los Angeles is considered one of the most dynamic cultural centers in the American continent and the United States.

A natural bridge between Mexican and American culture, Los Angeles is also a city that has been able to acquire a unique identity relating to cultural production, the trademark that distinguishes its delegation, comprised of around 50 authors, 20 academics, 14 artists and theater companies. The program also includes 7 visual arts exhibitions and a film series presenting classic and contemporary films designed to showcase the diverse perspectives on its urban landscape, its culture and people.

“For a long time, Los Angeles and Guadalajara have been capitals of creativity, cornerstones for diversity and centers of rich culture, fabulous art and excellent and innovative profound history,” said Los Angeles Mayor, Antonio R. Villaraigosa. “Our two cities and countries are united by a shared heritage and history, and with much delight we are looking forward to presenting our talents and strengthen the bonds between the United States and Mexico through our role as Guest of Honor of the Guadalajara International Book Fair.”

***

Two books that will be featured in the Los Angeles Pavilion:

***

Some writers slated to be here this week:

Michael Jaime Becerra

Gioconda Belli

Alex Espinoza

Dagoberto Gilb

Yxta Maya Murray

Salvador Plascencia

Gregory Rodriguez

Luis Rodriguez

Richard Rodriguez

Hector Tobar