After attending for more years than I can count, in 2014 I swore off the annual conference of the Association of Writers and Writing Programs in lieu of fewer, more narrowly focused, and smaller writers conferences.* If you’re not familiar with it, AWP is huger than HUUUUGE, with an eye-addling and foot blister-inducing bookfair, plus endless panels, scads of receptions (free cheese cubes!), readings, and more readings, and even more readings. Finding friends at AWP oftentimes feels like trying to meet up at Grand Central Station at rush hour. Of the panels that appeal, dagnabbit, they somehow occupy the same time slot. Then try finding a table for an impromptu group of 13 on Friday at 7 PM! But sometimes, never mind, it all aligns beautifully and you can find friends and inspiration and new friends and all whatnot!
*For example, the American Literary Translators Association; Biographers International; Center for Big Bend Studies; Texas Institute of Letters; Women Writing the West.
Never say never. What brought me back to AWP this last weekend in March of 2019 was to celebrate Gival Press’s 20th anniversary with a reading from my book Meteor, which won the Gival Press Poetry Award, and a booksigning at the Gival Press table in the bookfair. I also went to see friends and to scout out who’s publishing translations these days, since I have a couple of manuscripts of contemporary Mexican fiction that I’m aiming to place. Yet another reason was for a spritz of inspiration. (And I won’t go on about the lovely and fascinating city of Portland, since this is already a longish post.)
Think no one is reading books and literary magazines anymore? Here are just a few of the multitude of aisles of the 2019 AWP bookfair this year in Portland’s Oregon Convention Center:
The above views are typical, in my experience from AWPs in Austin, Chicago, Palm Springs, New York City, Denver, Seattle… I’m sure I left one out… they all kinda meld together in my memories…
I spent most of my time at AWP this year in the bookfair. Among the shining highlights for me was finding Alexandra van de Kamp, one of my favorite poets, and a fellow literary editor and Spanish translator– we met at a book fair in New York City back when she was editing Terra Incognita and I, Tameme, and we’ve kept in touch for all these years. I think it’s been (ayy) 20. Alexandra now teaches poetry workshops at Gemini Ink, the literary arts center in San Antonio, Texas, where she also serves as Executive Director.
Here’s my favorite table in the bookfair, a cozy red tent constructed by Nicholas Adamski, poet and Chief Creative Officer of The Poetry Society of New York. We had a most excellently awesome conversation about typewriters.
What I had not seen before at an AWP bookfair was this central platform for filming author interviews:
WHY ATTEND AWP?
It takes a pile of clams to attend AWP, plus travel costs, plus time– and that includes recovery time. Everyone has their own reasons for attending, and these might vary from year to year. I’ll speak for myself: In early years I attended AWP in order to promote my literary magazine, Tameme, and that meant standing at the table in the bookfair all day every day– which was fun, mostly, but exhausting (I developed an immense respect for vegetable sellers, I am not kidding). Later, after Tameme danced its jig over the litmag rainbow, I focused on participating on and attending panels as a writer (here’s one I did in for AWP on writers blogs in Seattle 2014; in previous years I participated on panels on writing travel memoir; writing across cultures; translating Mexican writers; and audio CDs– the latter on the eve of the advent of podcasting); exploring the bookfair (among other benefits, you can pitch editors sometimes, and sometimes it actually works); and meeting up with my editors, and with fellow poets and writers and translators. (The American Literary Translators Asociation, which has its own annual conference, also runs a mini-conference within the AWP conference. Ditto the Council of Literary Magazines and Presses, for which many editors and marketing staff attend.)
AWP is the MFA scene (Masters in Fine Arts in Writing). Most of the people attending seem to me to be students, graduates, or faculty of MFA programs. Those who are not, such as myself, are literary writers, poets, translators, and editors, and some staff of university-affliated conferences and independent nonprofit literary centers and organizations. While books and magazines are sold at AWP, this is not the commercial publishing scene. The publishers in the bookfair are for the most part university presses and university-associated literary magazines, and small independent presses and literary organizations. It’s not unheard of at AWP but extremely rare (as in albino antelope) to encounter an agent, or any commercial genre writing (romances, mystery, detective). You certainly won’t find much if anything in the way of the business books, commercial fiction, and celebrity tell-alls that are stock-in-trade for most bookstores.
OFF-SITERIE
A big draw for AWP is the delicious menu of off-site events, which are listed in the conference catalogue. The first night I arrived, I attended the readings by Leslie Pietrzyk from This Angel on My Chest, and Brad Felver, from The Dogs of Detroit, both winners of the University of Pittsburgh Press Drue Heinz Award for Short Fiction, at Mother Foucault’s Bookshop — a charming venue for two brilliant readings. Here’s my amiga Leslie:
Leslie Pietrzyk reads at Mother Foucault’s Bookshop, Portland, Oregon, 2019
Another offsite event was the Gival Press 20th Anniversary Celebration at the Hotel Rose, in which I participated with a batch of poems from Meteor. (No photos of Yours Truly. Bad hair day.)
Here’s Thaddeus Rutkowski reading his poem, “White and Wong”:
On the right is Arlyn Miller, founding poet of Poetic License.
And here is my amigo novelist, short story writer, essayist, and literary activist Sergio Troncoso talking about “How to Overcome Discouragement and Use It as a Motivating Tool”:
AWP Panelists Sergio Troncoso at the podium, left, Charles Salzberg; right, panel chair Christina Chiu and M. M. De Voe. This was my favorite AWP panel ever. And M.M. De Voe’s talk was hilarious, a grand performance. Thank you all! I walked out feeling like the Energizer Bunny! And I think everyone else did, too!
The Paris Review and assistant on-line editor Brian Ransom. One of my short stories appeared in this venerable litmag one waaaaay back in… I think it was 1996, the issue with the naked Egyptian lady on the cover. I actually spoke to George Plimpton on the phone once!
Another amiga, poet and teacher Karen Benke. One of my poems is in her rip-roaring anthology for children, Rip the Page!
Karen Benke (right) shared a booth with Albert Flynn DeSilver, author of Writing as a Path to Awakening. They both traveled from northern California. DeSilver is also the author of the memoir Beamish Boy.
From Washington DC: My amigos Richard Peabody, poet, writer and editor of Gargoyle Magazine, with Karren Alenier, poet and editor of WordWorks. Everytime I see Karren she is wearing that fabulous chapeau. Viva!
From Buffalo, New York: Dennis Maloney, editor/ publisher of White Pine Press. My sincere respects for so many years of publishing such high quality literature in translation.
Free buttons! And plenty of Hersheys Kisses, Tootsie Rolls, Sweet & Sours, Starbursts, free pens, more pens, calls for submissions…
All the way from Michigan! Fourth Genre— a new generation keeps this grand journal of creative nonfiction cooking. (Years ago, ayyyy, 2002, Fourth Genre published my essay about Tijuana, “A Touch of Evil.” )
Hippocampus Magazine and Books by Hippocampus. Their debut title is Air: A Radio Anthology. Check out what they’re publishing–a cornucopia of creative nonfiction– at www.hippocampusmagazine.com. Pictured right is founding editor Donna Talarico.
Another inspiration: Joseph Bednarik at Copper Canyon Press shows me how Alison Rollins signs her books: a stamp, a blue date stamp, and grape-colored ink. Yes!
Typosphere alert! This is the table for Hugo House of Seattle.
BatCat Press: This is run by highschool students in Pennsylvania and damned if it wasn’t the most energetically staffed and one of the most altogether impressive tables in the entire bookfair. Their handmade chapbooks are gorgeous. Plus they sell haiku pins!
Ghost Woodpecker by Dustin Nightingale, a fine letterpress chapbook from BatCat Press.
Best no-show table. The message in crayon on the top informs passerby that UPS lost their books. (I hope they had as much fun as I did butterflying about the bookfair.)
Natural Bridge. Shown here is my copy of issue 40 that arrived at my house before AWP.
The Natural Bridge table was one of many that I missed visiting at the bookfair. Alas, ever and always, there are dear friends, fabulous events, and necessary bookfair tables that one ends up missing at such a hugely huger than huge conference. AWP is not for the FOMO-ly challenged.
UPDATE: Karren Alenier has a fascinating post about AWP 2019, from the point of view of a poetry publisher. If you’re at all interested in the literary magazine and small press poetry scene, this is a must-read.
Truly, I am not intending to collect typewriters. All shelf space is spoken for by books!! Last week I brought home a 1967 Hermes 3000 because (long story zipped) my 1961 Hermes 3000 is temporarily inaccessible, and it was bugging me that my 1963 Hermes Baby types unevenly and sometimes muddily (which could be a problem with the ribbon, but anyway), and I had a deadline to type my short story “What Happened to the Dog?” for the anthology COLD HARD TYPE (about which more anonread it here).
Well, obviously I had to buy another typewriter!
I dare not buy anything but a Swiss Hermes. The one I could find in my local office supply shop was a refurbished 1967 Hermes 3000 with a Swiss-German QWERTZ keyboard. I’ve had to get used to the transposed Y and Z keys; otherwise, kein Problem, and es freut mich sehr to have the umlaut.
A QWERTZ Swiss German keyboard (American keyboards are QWERTYs)
Of my three Hermes typewriters, this 1967 3000 is by far the smoothest, easiest to type on, and most consistent. I venture to use the word “buttery,” in fact.
Herewith, typed on the 1967 Hermes 3000, “Silence” and “Poem,” from my forthcoming collection, Meteor:
Typed today but originally published in Muse Apprentice Guild in, ayy, 2002. I think it was.
If you’re going to the Great American Writerly Hajj, I mean the Associated Writing Programs Conference, come on by my reading– it’s a free event– I’m on the lineup with Thaddeus Rutkowski, Cecilia Martinez-Gil, Tyler McMahon, Seth Brady Tucker, John Domini, Teri Cross Davis, Elaine Ray, William Orem, Jeff Walt, and Joan G. Gurfield for the Gival Press 20th Anniversary Celebration Reading on Friday March 29, 2019 @ 7 – 10 PM, Hotel Rose, 50 SW Morrison St, Portland OR.
The following day, Saturday March 30, 2019, @ 10-11:30 AM, I’ll be signing copies of Meteor at the Gival Press table (Table #8063) in the AWP Conference book fair.
You can also find a copy of Meteor on amazon.com. And read more poems and whatnots apropos of Meteor on the book’s webpage here.
Uh oh (I can begin to see how this gets out of hand!) I just brought home a second vintage Swiss-made typewriter, a 1963 Hermes Baby, which is a sight lighter at 3.6 kilos (just under 8 pounds) and more compact than my 1961 Hermes 3000. It is in excellent working order, klak, klak!
He has not expressed himself verbally on the matter, but it would seem that my writing assistant would prefer that I use the MacBook Pro. Also, geesh, it was ten minutes past suppertime.
From Meteor, my collection which will be out from Gival Press later this month:
>More about the Hermes Baby at the Australian blog ozTypewriter and at the Swiss Hermes Baby Page by Georg Sommeregger (in German, but Google translation available).
Meanwhile, whilst strolling about the Rio Grande outside of Albuquerque, my fellow COLD HARD TYPE contributor Joe Van Cleave ponders the Typosphere, its relation to digital media, and the ultimately analog origins of the digital:
Apropos of typing, I am honored to also announce that my short story “What Happened to the Dog?” has been accepted for Cold Hard Type: Typewriter Tales from Post-Digital Worlds, edited by novelist Frederic S. Durbin, writer and Professor of English Andrew McFeeters, and philosopher Richard Polt, the Dean of the Typoshere, and author of The Typewriter Revolution. My own vision of the post-digital world? A mashup of a Fortean echo of Aeschylus’ death, the Galapagos Islands, an Ivy League university quadrangle, and round-a-campfire singin’ with the Girl Scouts. (Like they say about the future, the imaginal can be a beyond-strange land.) What post-digital worlds did the other contributors come up with? I for one look forward to reading…
“There’s a small, international army of typewriter users and collectors on this planet called Earth. Many share some core beliefs: 1) The typewriter inspires creative, deliberate, and thoughtful writing through its singular purpose; 2) Typewriters have no distracting social media apps. Writing, after all, is a solitary act; 3) Typewriters do not require batteries; 4) New technology is not bad, but it is inferior to the mighty typewriter; 5) If you do not think typewriters are cool, then that leaves more typewriters for the rest of us. Still, don’t knock it until you try it; and 6) If you feel the clacking call of the typewriter beneath the full moon on a windy night, check out Richard Polt’s website”
P.S. Visit again next Monday for a fascinating Q & A with Ellen Cassedy, who has translated a brilliant, moving, and genuinely landmark book of short fiction.
Finally, after more than a decade, I took my own advice to get Madam Mayo off the free Google blogger platform and onto self-hosted WordPress here at www.madam-mayo.com. It was one part 2019 new year’s resolution and another part yikes-my-book-Meteor-is-about-to-come-out-and-I-should-have-already-taken-care-of-this. For the past few weeks I’ve been huffing and puffing up a steeper learning curve, and one with quite a few more scenic (and not-so-scenic) detours, than I had anticipated.
I do not aim, by the way, to import the entire archive of Madam Mayo posts going back to 2006. Archaeologists of Ur-litblogdom are hereby invited to dig around in the archives right where they always were and shall remain, for as long as Googledom, for whatever reasons known only to itself, deems apt. What I am bringing over here to www.madam-mayo.com, with selected links updated, are those posts that I believe best hold up over time: some transcripts of my talks, and other items related to my books (including the one in-progress) and podcasts; book reviews and the richer notes on recommended reading; articles for my writing workshop; and the now substantial collection of Q & As with other writers.
If you’re new to this blog, a few of last year’s posts that I would consider representative of what you can expect here going into 2019 include:
As of today, February 4, 2019, the top Madam Mayo posts for 2018–some thirty in all– plus a wee batch (mainly workshop posts) from a sprinkling of earlier years, are now live here at www.madam-mayo.com. So I have more to do.
I also need to figure out the signup-by-email thing…
In case you are also thinking of migrating a blog to WordPress, or starting a new blog on WordPress, herewith a few resources that I have found especially helpful:
My book Meteor, which won the Gival Press Award for Poetry, and was orginally scheduled to be published in late 2018, has been delayed slightly; it will be out in early 2019. I’m thrilled to see the cover, designed by Kenn Schellenberg, and to announce that Meteor will launch at the Association of Writers and Writing Programs Conference in Portland, Oregon this March. If you’re going to the conference, come on by my reading which will be part of Gival Press’ 20th Anniversary Celebration, and also to my booksigning the following day in the AWP Bookfair (details below).
I’d be the first to say many of these poems could be considered flash fictions, and in fact, a number of them were originally published in literary magazines (e.g., Exquisite Corpse, Gargoyle, Kenyon Review), as fiction. But as I like to say, it’s all poetry– or at least, it should aspire to be.
March 29, 2019Portland, Oregon Association of Writers and Writing Programs Conference off-site event Hotel Rose 7 – 10 PM C.M. Mayo, author of Meteor, to participate in Gival Press 20th Anniversray Celebration Reading. More details to be announced.
March 30, 2019 Portland, Oregon Association of Writers and Writing Programs Conference Oregon Convention Center Book Fair, Gival Press, Table # 8063 10-11:30 AM C.M. Mayo will be signing Meteor.
Yep, I am still at work on the book about Far West Texas. I aim to post a podcast apropos of that shortly, however next Monday’s post– the month’s fourth– is dedicated, as ever, to a Q & A with another writer: David A. Taylor, who will be talking about his intriguing Cork Wars.
With México en las miradas de Estados Unidos (Editorial Las Animas, 2017), Mexican writer and historian José N. Iturriaga has edited an anthology that is at once a vital scholarly contribution towards the history of Mexican and of US-Mexico relations, and an “armchair read,” as I like to think of those box-of-chocolate tomes one can dip into here and there, on some quiet afternoon (perhaps with a bit of a birdsong and by a burbling fountain…) In short, this is a book I will keep on an eye-level shelf of my working library, but also return to time and again just for the fun of it. (For this reason furnishings for a proper working library include an upholstered armchair and ottoman!)
For those who can read Spanish and have even an
iota of interest in Mexico, México en las miradas de Estados Unidos is
a must-have. Over 130 American voices are represented here, and of an
astonishing variety, from the early 19th century to recent years, and of all
sensibilities. To quote [my translation] from Iturriaga’s introduction, they
are:
“traders and engineers, adventurers and sailors, explorers and historians, photographers and archaeologists, diplomats and journalists, novelists and miners, geographers and artists, poets and filmmakers, priests and planters, scientists, various soldiers, a comic and a president.”
That comic would be Groucho Marx, and the
president, James K. Polk.
Many of these authors will be familiar to those
who who have already read widely on Mexico in English: Fanny Chambers
Gooch, John Kenneth Turner, John Reed, Katherine Anne Porter, Alma Reed,
William Spratling, John Steinbeck, William Burroughs, John Womak.
And I was delighted to see so many of my personal
favorites, among them, pioneer trader and explorer Josiah Gregg, Princess Salm
Salm (suffice to say, had Andy Warhol been alive in 1866 they would have been amiguísimos),
Charles Macomb Flandrau, and my own dear amigo, the accomplished biographer and
historian Michael K.
Schuessler.
I am immensely honored to find my own work in
such company, with an excerpt from my novel based on the true story of Mexico’s
half-American prince, The Last Prince
of the Mexican Empire.
Although I have been reading on Mexican history
for decades now, and in fact collect memoirs of Mexico in English, many of
Iturriaga’s selections were new to me, for example, General John E. Wool,
soldier Thomas Yates Lundie, traveler Maude Mason Austin, and more.
Read about José N. Iturriaga’s many works,
including the recent Saberes y delirios, his fine novel about the
incomparable 19th century naturalist Alexander von Humboldt, here.
This year the second Monday is dedicated to a post for my writing workshop students, except when not. This post is a “not”– or rather, not exactly; I would hope that my workshop students, and indeed any and all English-language readers, may find it of interest.
This interview was an honor, and a most welcome opportunity to say some things that have been looming ever larger in my mind.
MEXICAN WRITER LUIS FELIPE LOMELÍ ASKS QUESTIONS IN ENGLISH; LA ESCRITORA ESTADOUNIDENSE C.M. MAYO CONTESTA EN ESPAÑOL
DECEMBER
2018
LUIS
FELIPE LOMELÍ: Where you were born and where have you lived?
C.M. MAYO: Nací en El Paso, Texas, en la frontera, pero crecí en el norte de California, la parte ahora conocida como “Silicon Valley.” He vivido en Chicago, Washington DC, y otros lugares pero puedo decir que he pasado el mayor número de años de mi vida en la Ciudad de México.
[I was born in El Paso, Texas, on the US- Mexican border, but I grew up in northern California, in what is now “Silicon Valley.” I’ve lived in Chicago, Washington DC, and other places, but at this point I have lived more years of my life in Mexico City than anywhere else.]
LFL:
Your profession?
CMM: Soy novelista, ensayista, poeta y traductora literaria.
[I am a novelist, essayist, poet, and literary translator.]
LFL:
What drove you to Mexico, to live in Mexico (where and for how long) and to
write about Mexico, to embrace Spanish as part of your culture?
CMM: ¡El amor! Me casé con un mexicano, un compañero de la
Universidad de Chicago, y recién casados vinimos a vivir a la Ciudad de México.
Han sido 32 años, la mayoría de ellos en la Ciudad de México.
[Love! I married a Mexican, a classmate at the University of Chicago, and directly after we got married we came to live in Mexico City. We’ve been married 32 years now, and most of these years we have been in Mexico City.]
LFL:
What do you think about U.S. immigrants that live in Mexico, what do they do
there, why are they there? Do they chose particular places to live?
CMM: Conozco mucha gente como yo, que venimos a residir en México por motivos personales. Otras también han venido por motivos profesionales, por ejemplo en la academia, en los artes y en las actividades empresariales, en todo tipo de empresas. Por supuesto allí están las comunidades de jubilados y artistas, en lugares tales como San Miguel de Allende, Ajijic, Los Cabos, y demás. A mí me parece que les ha convenido venir a México porque el clima invernal es más suave, el costo de vivir es menor que en Estados Unidos, y también por la aventura. ¡Algunas personas tienen mayores aventuras que otras!
[I know many people such as myself, who came to Mexico for personal reasons. Many also come for professional reasons, especially in academia, the arts. And others for business, all sorts of businesses. Then there are of course the retirees and artists living in San Miguel de Allende, Ajijic, Los Cabos, and so on, and it seems to me that most of them have come south because the winter weather is better, it’s cheaper to live there than the U.S., and for the adventure. Some have more adventures than others!]
Los norteamericanos han estado viniendo a vivir en México desde hace mucho más de un siglo. En los 1840s empiezan a llegar algunos comerciantes a través del Santa Fe Trail, el camino que conecta la ciudad de St Louis, Missouri con el Camino Real de Tierra Adentro, esto es, el camino real desde Santa Fe hacia a Ciudad Chihuahua, Durango, Querétaro, y la Ciudad de México. Y después, en la segunda mitad del siglo 19, por ejemplo, muchos ingenieros estadounidenses vinieron a México, ingenieros de minas, de ferrocarriles, de petróleo. Periodistas, rancheros, hacendados, novelistas, hoteleros, misioneros. Y aún mercenarios. Por ejemplo, muchos estadounidenses lucharon en varias facciones de diversos conflictos en México, incluyendo en la Revolución. Y en algún momento inmigró un grupo de mormones. Otro de menonitas.
[Americans have been coming to live in Mexico for well over a century. We start to see a few traders coming to live in Mexico in the 1840s, coming down on the Santa Fe Trail, connecting St Louis, Missouri with the Camino Real de Tierra Adentro, that is to say, the old royal road down to Ciudad Chihuahua, Durango, Querétaro, Mexico City. And later, in the second half of the 19th century, many U.S. engineers came to Mexico—mining engineers, railroad engineers, petroleum engineers. Journalists, ranchers, planation owners, novelists, hotel owners, missionaries. And even mercenaries. For example, many Americans fought in conflicts in Mexico, including in the Mexican Revolution. At one point Mormons migrated into Mexico. And Menonites.]
Uno de los personajes de mi novela está basado en Alice Green,
la hija de una familia prominente de Washington DC. Su abuelo fue un ayudante
del General Washington en la Guerra de Independencia. En Washington ella se
casó con un diplomático mexicano, Angel de Iturbide, quién era de casualidad el
segundo hijo del emperador de México, Agustín de Iturbide. Ella y su esposo
vinieron a residir a la Ciudad de México en los 1850s.
[One of the characters in my novel is based on Alice Green, who was the daughter of a prominent family in Washington DC. Her grandfather was an aide-de-camp to General Washington in the American Revolution. In Washington she married a Mexican diplomat, Angel de Iturbide, who happened to be the second son of Mexico’s Emperor, Agustín de Ituride. She and her husband came to live in Mexico City in the 1850s.]
Otra historia del siglo 19, muy diferente, sobre la cual estoy escribiendo actualmente, es la de los negros seminoles, quienes eran los esclavos de los indígenas Seminoles, originalmente de Florida. Pues si, es poco conocido pero algunos indígenas tenían, compraban y vendían esclavos de descendencia africana. Poco después de que el gobierno de Estados Unidos obligó a los Seminoles a mudarse a Territorio indio, los negros seminoles se escaparon, caminando a través del desierto de Texas hacia México. El gobierno mexicano les otorgó terreno en cambio de que los hombres ayudaran al ejercito mexicano en la persecución de los apaches y otros indigenas nómadas en el norte de México. Con la conclusión de la Guerra Civil en Estados Unidos y la Emancipación de los esclavos, muchos de los seminoles negros migraron de regreso a Texas para hacer lo mismo, ayudar al Ejercito de los Estados Unidos en cazar a los apaches, comanches y otros indigenas nómadas en las Guerras Indias. Todavía existe una comunidad de los descendientes de los negros seminoles en Brackettville, Texas y otra en el norte de México.
[Another very different story, one I’m writing about now, is that of the Seminole Negros, who were the slaves of the Seminole Indians, originally in Florida. It’s little known but it’s a fact, some Indians kept and bought and sold slaves of African descent. Soon after the U.S. government forced the Seminoles and their slaves to Indian Territory, the Seminole Negros fled, trekking from Oklahoma over the Texas desert, into Mexico. In exchange for land, their men worked as scouts for the Mexican Army, which was hunting down Apaches and other nomadic indigenous peoples in northern Mexico; and after the U.S. Civil War, with Emancipation, many Seminole Negroes migrated back into Texas, to do the same work for the U.S. Army, in the Indian Wars. There is a community of the descendents of the Seminole Negroes in Brackettville, Texas, and another in northern Mexico.]
La inmigración de estadounidenses hacia México es una historia
extraordinariamente rica y compleja, pues cada persona, cada familia tiene su
propia historia. Es más, en México hay inmigrantes de varias partes del mundo.
[U.S. immigration to Mexico is an extraordinarily rich and complex history, or rather, many histories, for each person, each family has their own. Moreover, Mexico has immigrants from many parts of the world.]
LFL:
What is your impression and/or conception about this cultural exchange?
CMM: En cuanto la comunicación intercultural entre Estados Unidos y México, yo diría que hay muchos enlaces, muchos acercamientos, mucho que tenemos en común, mucho que podemos celebrar, pero no es lo que podría ser. Creo que algunas razones de eso—algunas—tienen sus raíces por allá en el siglo 16, en la rivalidad entre la España católica y la Inglaterra protestante.
[As for US-Mexico intercultural understanding today, I would say there are many connections, many bridges, much that we all have in common, and can celebrate, but it’s not what it could be. I acually believe that some reasons for this—some— have their roots all the way back in 16th century, to the rivalry between Catholic Spain and Protestant England.]
Pero enfocamos en cuestiones literarias. Hoy, un elemento, el
cual es tanto una causa como un síntoma de la falta de comunicación
intercultural, es que relativamente pocos libros se traducen del español al
inglés o del inglés al español. Como porcentaje de libros publicados es
minúsulo. Como resultado, muy, muy pocos escritores mexicanos se conocen en
Estados Unidos. Octavio Paz, quién ganó el premio Nobel. Carlos Fuentes… quizá
Juan Rulfo… algunos pocos lectores en inglés han oído de Carlos Monsiváis,
Elena Poniatowska, Angeles Mastretta, Ignacio Solares, para nombrar unos de los
distinguidos escritores contemporáneos mexicanos cuyos libros han sido
traducidos al inglés. La lista de nombres conocidos disminuye en un parpadeo.
[But to focus on literary questions. Today, one factor, which is both a cause and a symptom of problems with intercultural communication, is that relatively few books are translated from Spanish into English, or from English into Spanish. As a percentage of what original work is published it’s minuscule. As a result, very, very few Mexican writers are known in the US. Octavio Paz, who won the Nobel Prize. Carlos Fuentes…maybe Juan Rulfo… a very few will have heard of Carlos Monsiváis, Elena Poniatowska, Angeles Mastretta, Ignacio Solares, to name a few of Mexico’s distinguished contemporary writers who have had books translated into English… The list of recognizable names dwindles in a blink.]
Y por cierto un escritor mexicano destacado quién debe de ser más conocido en inglés es Luis Felipe Lomelí.
[And by the way, an outstanding Mexican writer named Luis Felipe Lomelí should be much better known in English.]
En México cuando voy a una librería mexicana, en cuanto a libros
de literatura traducidos del inglés, por lo general encuentro best-sellers,
Harry Potter, y así, y quizá algunos clásicos. Shakespeare, por ejemplo. Ay,
acabo de mencionar dos obras británicas. Edgar Allen Poe. Ernest Hemingway.
Ahora que lo pienso, conozco un par de poetas mexicanos quienes les encantan
los Beats, William Burroughs, Jack Kerouac. El último grito en los 1950s. Hay
muchos ejemplos per, a grandes rasgos, así es la situación.
[In Mexico when I go into a Mexican bookstore, as far as books of serious literature translated from the English, I generally find best-sellers, Harry Potter, and the like, and a few classics. Shakespeare, for example. Ha, I just mentioned two British works. Edgar Allen Poe. Ernest Hemingway. Now that I think about it, I know a few Mexican poets who love the Beats, William Burroughs, Jack Kerouac. Hot stuff in the 1950s. There are many more examples but, in general terms, this is the situation.]
Podemos señalar el prejucio, la ignorancia, el conservativismo
de los editores, pero podemos avanzar más por el camino de la comprehensión en
reconocer, primeramente, que lectores—en todo el mundo—prefieren leer libros
originalmente escritos en su propio idioma. Segundo, reconocer el gran sapo
gordo del hecho de que la traducción literaria es cara. Y así debe ser, puesto
que traducir todo un libro es una labor que requiere muchos conocimientos y
mucho tiempo. Aún así, los traductores literarios ganen muy poco. Cuando
traduzco poemas y cuentos cortos para revistas literarias, como la mayoría de
los traductores literarios, no cobro, o más bien no recibo nada más que dos
ejemplares de la revista. Lo hago como labor de amor, por lo general. Existen
becas y otros apoyos, pero son escasos.
[We could point a finger at prejudice, at ignorance, at publishers’ conservativism, but we can go further down the road towards understanding by acknowledging firstly, that readers—all over the world— prefer to read books originally written in their own language. Secondly, there is the big fat toad of a fact that literary translation is expensive. And rightly so, because it takes a of skill to translate a book, and it takes a lot of time. Even still, translators are poorly paid. When I translate poems and short stories for literary magazines, like most literary translators, I usually do it for free, or I should say, I don’t receive anything other than a couple of copies of the magazine. I do it as a labor of love, usually. There are grants for literary translators, for publishing literary translations. But these are few.]
Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. Para mí, ésta historia nos dice todo:
Tengo entendido que “Primero Sueño,” el magnum opus de Sor Juana Inés de la
Cruz, la gran poeta mexicana del barroco, una monja quien fue una figura
literaria monumental en las Americas del siglo 17, se traduce al inglés por
primera vez hasta 1983. Afortunadamente fue hecha por John Campion, un
traductor y poeta excelente. El libro está agotado no bastante puedes
Googlearlo y leerlo en su página web, worldatuningfork.com. John Campion, Sor
Juana Inés de la Cruz.
[Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. For me, this sums it up: “Primero Sueño,” the magnum opus of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, Mexico’s great poet of the Baroque, a nun who was a monumental literary figure in the Americas, was first translated into English only in 1983. Fortunately it was by John Campion, a fine translator and a poet himself. The book is out of print but you can Google that up and read it on his webpage, www.worldatuningfork.com. John Campion, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz.]
Mi mensaje para las escuchas de esta entrevista es que una manera en que tú, como lector, puedes mejorar la comunicación intercultural, es buscar libros más allá de los best-sellers, más allá de los libros que todo el mundo lee, y en especial, buscar traducciones. Por lo general las traducciones se publican por editoriales pequeñas quienes no cuentan con muchos recursos para hacer mercadotécnia. Si no tienes el dinero para comprar un libro, es probable que la biblioteca de tu escuela o universidad o tu biblioteca pública pueda conseguirte un ejemplar. Si no lo ves en su catálogo, no seas tímido, pregúntale al bibliotecario si lo puede conseguir mediante préstamo interbibliotecario o comprarlo para la biblioteca. No pierdes nada en preguntar. Podrías ser felizmente sorprendido.
[My message for those of you listening to this interview is that one way that you, as a reader, can help improve intercultural communication is to look beyond the books on the best-seller table, read beyond the books everybody else is reading, and in particular, hunt for translations. Translations are often brought out by small presses that don’t have much marketing muscle. If you don’t have the money to buy a book, your school, university, or public library can probably get you copy—if you don’t see it in their catalogue, don’t be shy about asking the librarian to get you a copy on interlibrary loan, or even to buy it for the library. It doesn’t hurt to ask. You might be happily surprised.]
Y si tienes ganas de hacer una traducción, que sea al inglés o
al español ¡házla! Por supuesto, si la obra original se encuentra en copyright
y quieres publicar tu traducción, es necesario conseguir el permiso.
[And if you feel moved to translate a text, whether into English or into Spanish, give it a try! Of course, if the original work is still in copyright and you want to publish it you will need to get permission.]
Como lector, tus esfuerzos son importantes. No todo el mundo lee
libros, así que para mucha gente la lectura no les parece una actividad
importante. Pero los lectores tiendan a ser gentes pensantes y de acción. Un
libro, aún leído por poca gente, aún por una sola persona, tiene el
potencial—el potencial— de un poder enorme. Un poder para cambiar el mundo. No
exagero.
[As as reader, your efforts matter. Not everyone reads books, so it might not seem all that important an activity. But those who read books, they tend to be thinkers and doers, so a book, even if read by a few people, even by one person, holds the potential—the potential— for enormous power. Power to change the world. I do not exaggerate.]
En esencia, un libro es un pensamiento grande y complejo
empaquetado en un recipiente hiper-eficiente capaz de llevarlo a través del
tiempo y del espacio.
[A book is, essentially, a large, complex thought packed into a hyper-efficient vessel that can carry it across time and space.]
Déjenme regresar al ejemplo de Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. Si no
has oído de esta monja del siglo 17, en este instante a través de tu laptop o
smartphone, o aún mejor, yendo a la biblioteca, lee tantito sobre su vida,
algunas líneas de su poesía. Con este pequeño esfuerzo, yo creo que cambia tu
concepto de México, de mujeres y del mundo. Vas a llegar a tus propias
conclusiones, por supuesto, pero tu mundo será ya diferente.
[Let me return to the example of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. If you have not heard of this 17th century nun, and you take a moment on your laptop or smartphone, or better yet, to go the library and read up a bit, and you read some lines of her poetry—just that little—I think your whole view of Mexico, of women, and of the world will change. You will draw your own conclusions, of course, but your world will be changed.]
LFL:
And what was your intention or the goal you pursued in editing the Mexico: A
Traveler’s Literary Companion?
Mexico: A Traveler’s Literary Companion, edited by C.M. Mayo. Visit the book’s webpage here.
CMM: Es un retrato de México a través de la ficción y prosa de 24
escritores mexicanos, muchos en traducción por primera vez. No es un Who’s Who,
un Quién es quién de los escritores mexicanos, aunque de hecho incluye
varios escritores muy distinguidos. Más bien ofrece a los lectores en
inglés una introducción a la deliciosísima variedad de la literatura mexicana y
en México mismo: desde los puntos de vista cultural, social, regional. La meta
fue ir más allá de los estereotipos.
[This is a portrait of Mexico in the fiction and prose of 24 Mexican writers, many in translation for the first time. It’s not meant to be a Who’s Who of Mexican writers, although it does include some distinguished writers, but rather, to provide for English-language readers an introduction to the delicious variety in Mexican writing and Mexico itself: cultural, social, regional. To blast beyond clichés!]
Armar el tomo fue para mí un reto nada fácil puesto que la mayor
parte de la literatura mexicana contemporánea, por cierto la más visible,
proviene de la Ciudad de México. No obstante, encontré varias obras
espléndidas, por ejemplo, “La Dama de los Mares” por Agustín Cadena, un relato
ubicado en la costa de Baja California, “Día y noche” por Mónica Lavín en
Cuernavaca, y el relato de Araceli Ardón “No es nada mío” de Querétaro. Les
invito a leer más en mi página web, www.cmmayo.com
[This was quite a job for me as editor because much of contemporary Mexican literary writing, and certainly the most visible, comes out of Mexico City. But I did find many splendid pieces, for example, Agustín Cadena’s “Lady of the Seas,” set in Baja California, Mónica Lavín’s “Day and Night” in Cuernavaca, and Araceli Ardón’s “It Is Nothing of Mine,” set in Querétaro. I invite you to read more on my website, www.cmmayo.com.]
My bookMeteor, which won the Gival Press Poetry Award, will be out in early 2019. I’m working on a brief Q & A about it, and this got me to noodling. One of the standard questions for any poet, any writer, is about their influences. I wrote many of these poems an eon ago; indeed, some are more than 20 years old. The most recent poem in the collection is from 2010. (Why did it take so long to publish? That would be another blog post. Suffice to say, I didn’t make much effort; I was more focused on writing an epic novel and a book about a book and the Mexican Revolution.)
Back when, I would have said that my main influences as a poet were, in alphabetical order, Raymond Carver, Harry Smith, Stevie Smith, Wallace Stevens, and W. B. Yeats. But I think that now, from this distant perspective of 2018, that in writing these poems I was perhaps equally influenced by James Howard Kunstler’s razor-sharp nonfiction, in particular, his The Geography of Nowhere, and by certain musicians prominent in the ’70 and ’80s– not only by their lyrics, but the physical ambiance they create, the trickster, shapeshifting way they pull down the astral by sound, rhythm, the masks of archetypes. In English, we lack vocabulary for this.
This blog posts every Monday. Starting this year, every fourth Monday, except when not, is a Q & A with another writer. This week not.
As you dear, faithful, writerly readers know, I have been at work on the Far West Texas book. One of the individuals who appears and reappears throughout the narrative is Lt. John Bigelow, Jr. An officer in the Tenth U.S. Cavalry in the late 19th century, Bigelow had an illustrious father and his own impressive body of work in military strategy and tactics, in many ways anticipating the industrial-level wars of the twentieth century. So, having done a small Himalaya of reading on those Bigelows and the Tenth Cavalry, last fall at the conference at the Center for Big Bend Studies, I presented a paper on Lt. Bigelow, expecting to polish it up into publishable form lickety-split. Ha! It’s still not finished, but at least the draft is, and I submitted it. Wish me luck.
In the meantime, herewith, a few lessons learned
about working with a working library.
I’m several decades and several published books
down the pike now that I pause here, en blog, to confess that I never
fully appreciated what was involved with writing a book that necessitated a
working library. I just sort of accumulated whatever books I needed, or thought
I might need, willynilly, clearing bookshelf space, catch as catch can. Things
got rather pile-y, shall we say, and sometimes I wasted good working mornings
just hunting for things. I never fully appreciated how unwieldly some of
these working libraries can grow– and grow as, in many cases, they rightfully
must.
Some of my working libraries took up only a few
shelves, for example, the reading for my anthology Mexico: A Traveler’s Literary
Companion. The one for my Baja California book, Miraculous Air, took
up an entire wall, floor to ceiling, and the working library for my novel on
Mexico’s Second Empire almost twice as much space. Ditto my recent
book on Madero and
metaphysical religion. And… drumroll… most especially the
one I am using now on Far West Texas. The Texasbibliothek, as I call it, now
hogs and camels and elephants and Macktrucks an entire room.
You may wonder, why can’t I just borrow books from
my local library? Answer, Part I: I don’t have a relevant library nearby. Part
II: When I am writing I often need to have several different books at-hand;
many libraries will not lend out so many books at once, nor bring out so many
volumes to a reading room. (But yes, I have consulted books in libraries, and
in archival collections.) As I worked on that Baja California book, the Second
Empire novel, and the one on the Mexican Revolution, I often had five or ten or
even as many as, say, fifteen books open on my desk… such is the
Kuddelmuddel of my process.
So… for the types of books I was and am writing, this means having a budget– a realistic budget– for buying books. University press hardcovers can be, ouch. To save money, many a time I bought an ex-library edition off of www.abebooks.com— which for used books is, in my experience, more reliable than amazon or ebay. And for collectible editions, I would advise steering way clear of amazon and ebay because all sorts of sellers on there have no clue what a first edition is or how to accurately describe a book’s condition. Again, abebooks.com is good and better yet sellers who are members in good standing of the Antiquarian Booksellers Association of America. An occupational danger is that you can get a jones for collecting, and start buying first editions. But that’s another blog post. I used to buy Italian shoes, let me put it that way.
As for organizing these working libraries, I posted previously about that here. Indeed, I got this current working library, my Texasbibliothek, into such superb shape that, as I was pulling out various titles for this paper on Lt. Bigelow, I had a little fiesta of self-congratulation every single time.
And reshelving the books? Something I do now with this Texasbibliothek that I have never done before– and I am shaking my head that it had not occurred to me sooner– is to tuck into each book a bookmark with its category.
UPDATE: See my November 11, 2019 post “A Working Library” for more about using bookmarks. My technique has advanced!
Making individual bookmarks with the categories
noted might seem more trouble than it’s worth, but the challenge is, many books
could go into more than one category, and if I have to remember or decide anew
which one it is each time I reshelve it, well…. then… unshelved books tend
to start piling up and sprawling into big, giant, King-Kong-scale
Kuddelmuddel!
Decluttering? Indeed I do declutter. However, for some subjects, as in these working libraries, the collections in themselves have significant cultural / scholarly value; they should not be broken up. One day I will find them a good home.
