C.M. MAYO WORKS & NEWS – Page 9 – C.M. Mayo's Book Notes & Convos

Spotlight on Mexican Fiction: “The Apaches of Kiev” by Agustín Cadena in Tupelo Quarterly, and Much More

Delighted to announce that my translation of the short story by Agustín Cadena, “The Apaches of Kiev,” appears in the very fine U.S. literary journal, Tupelo Quarterly. It’s a story at once dark and deliciously wry. It caught my attention because, well, everything Cadena writes catches my attention– he is one of my favorite writers in Mexico, or anywhere– and he happens to be living in Hungary, so the Eastern Europe angle is no surprise. In all, Cadena’s is a unique and powerful voice in contemporary fiction, and I hope you’ll have a read.

THE APACHES OF KIEV
BY AGUSTIN CADENA
(Originally published in Spanish on Agustín Cadena’s
blog, El vino y la hiel)
Translated by C.M. Mayo

The story about the body they found in the Botanic Garden came out in the newspapers and on television. The Kiev police identified it immediately: Dmitri Belov, reporter and political analyst known for his scathing criticism of President Poroshenko’s administration. Presumably it was a suicide, but until they could confirm this verdict, the police had been ordered to put all resources to work.

Among the underemployed— peddlers and prostitutes— who roamed the Botanical Garden, very few were aware of this. So how was anyone else to find out? They didn’t have televisions and they didn’t spend their money on newspapers. Understandably, those who knew about the body avoided that area. They knew there would have been a commotion, and especially if the body belonged to someone important. The police would go around searching for possible witnesses to interrogate, and by the way, shake them down on other charges. It wouldn’t do any good to explain to the police what they already knew: that every week all of these underemployed people paid a bribe to be left in peace.

Ignorant of everything, three men of approximately 40 years of age, exotic-looking, dressed like Apaches in a Western movie, appeared after 11 in the morning. They were Ernesto Ortega, Gonzalo Acevedo and Milton Guzmán: Mexican, Salvadorean and Venezuelan, respectively. The three of them dressed identically: a headdress of white feathers that went from their heads down to their waists, jacket and trousers of coffee-colored leather with fringe on the sleeves and the back, moccasins, and ritual battle makeup. They carried assorted musical instruments and they took turns playing Andean music: “El cóndor pasa,” “Pájaro Chogüi,” “Moliendo café,” etc. They knew the music did not go with the costumes nor the costumes with their ethnicities, but this strange combination was what worked for them commercially. Americaphilia was at its height in Kiev, and passersby were happy to give money to these “North American Indians” who played the music “of their people.” Perhaps the happy notes of “La flor de la canela” led the Ukrainians to imagine the beauty of life in teepees, among the buffalo, wild horses, mountain lions, and bald-headed eagles. The fact is, in addition to playing and signing, the “Apaches” also sold their CDs of this same music, displayed on a cloth spread on the ground. [… CONTINUE READING]

P.S. My amiga the poet and writer Patricia Dubrava also translates Cadena. Check out some of her excellent translations at ~~Mexico City Lit.~~ [Alas, as of 9/2019, that link went dark.]

This past Saturday I had the good fortune to be able to attend Cadena’s book presentation in one of my favorite Mexico City bookstores, the FCE Rosario Castellanos in Condesa. (Here is where I interviewed Michael Schuessler about his biography of Pita Amor, among other works.) Cadena was presenting a novel for young readers, La casa de los tres perros (The House of the Three Dogs) and along for the ride came a group of Mexican writers who have stories in his latest anthology, Callejeros, cuentos urbanos de mundos soñados (my rough translation of that might be, Street People: Stories of Urban Dreamworlds). Happily for me, this also meant a chance to visit with my friend the Mexican novelist and historian Silvia Cuesy. Here we are with Agustín Cadena:

C.M. Mayo, Agustín Cadena, Silvia Cuesy at the Rosario Castellanos FCE Bookstore, Mexico City

Agustín Cadena’s anthology of short fiction, *Callejeros* and novel for young readers, *La Casa de los tres perros*.

Mexican writers in Agustín Cadena’s anthology, *Callejeros*. Front row: León Cuevas, Sandra Luna, Agustín Cadena. Back row: Eduardo islas, Cristina Manterola, ?, ?,
José Antonio Bautista, Silvia Cuesy.

Cadena, right in white hat, presenting his novel for young readers. *La casa de los tres perros,* in the FCE Rosario Castellanos bookstore in Mexico City, August 5, 2017.

Watch the video for Kickstarter with Mayte Romo of Editorial Elementum, publisher of Callejeros:

Putting on my armchair-sociologist sombrero now: Aside from its high quality (both its literary content and as an object), what is especially interesting about Callejerosis that the editor lives abroad and the publisher is based in a provincial town– Pachuca, in the state of Hidalgo. Mexican literary culture and publishing has long been overwhelmingly concentrated in Mexico City, but with the digital revolution it seems this is opening up quickly. I talked a bit about this in my talk for a 2015 American Literary Translators Association panel I chaired:

Translating Contemporary Latin American Poets and Writers: Embracing, Resisting, Escaping the Magnetic Pull of the Capital

P.S. I mention both this wondrous Mexico City FCE bookstore and Cadena in my longform essay now available on Kindle, “Dispatch from the Sister Republic or, Papelito Habla,” an overview of the Mexican literary landscape and the power of the book.

And for those who follow this blog, yes, I remain at work on the book about Far West Texas. Stay tuned for the next podcasts. My latest writing on the subject includes a review of Patrick Dearen’s Bitter Waters: The Struggles of the Pecos River.

Translating Across the Border

On Writing About Mexico: Secrets and Surprises

Catamaran Literary Reader and My Translation of
Rose Mary Salum’s “The Aunt”

Find out more about
C.M. Mayo’s books, articles, podcasts, and more.

Some Old Friends Spark Joy (Whilst Kondo-ing My Library)

I moved. And of course, this involved oodles of Kondo-ing.

For those who missed the phenomenon of Japanese tidying expert Marie Kondo: She says the way to do it is to pick up each object and ask yourself, does this spark joy? If so, keep it (even if it’s a raggedy T-shirt), and if not (even if it’s a brand new suede sofa that cost a heap), thank it, then chuck it— or donate it or sell it, or whatever, but get it out of your space. Many organizers and sundry pundits have dismissed Kondo-ing as “woo woo.” Too bad for them because, by Jove, by whatever Shinto spirit you want to name, or the god Pan, or Elvis Presley, it works.

My personal and working library is at last in good order, and I am delighted to share with you, dear and thoughtful reader, just a few of the many old friends that sparked much joy:

See this post that mentions the luminous Sara Mansfield Taber: “So How’s the Book Doing? (And how many books have you sold? And what was your print run?)”

Both of these books made my annual top 10 book read lists. 2011 Wandering Souls: Journeys with the Dead and Living in Viet Nam ; 2014 Finding George Orwell in Burma. (Note: link goes to old blog platform; soon to be updated)

Post re: Bruce Berger’s amusing, eccentric and very sensitive artist’s memoir.I often quote from Rupert Isaacson’s The Healing Land in my literary travel writing workshops.

Taking the advice in Neil Fiore’s The Now Habit enabled me to finish my novel.

David Allen’s GTD saves the bacon every time.

Back in 2010 Regina Leeds contributed a guest-blog:“Five Plus 1 Resources to Make a Writer Happy in an Organized Space”. (Note: link goes to old blog platform; soon to be updated)

I have a sizable collection of books about books. Books for me are heaven. I wrote a bit about book history in my recent longform Kindle,“Dispatch from the Sister Republic or, Papelito Habla”

Sophy Burnham is best known for her works on angels, but she has a sizable body of outstanding work of literary essay / sociology. Her The Landed Gentry was especially helpful for me for understanding some of the characters in one of my books. Doormen by Peter Bearman… that merits a post…

Drujienna’s Harp was one of my very favorite novels when I was first starting to read novels.As for The Golden Key, pictured right, my copy was left for some days by an open window in the rain back in 1960-something, but I have saved it and I always shall.

I welcome your courteous comments which, should you feel so moved, you can email to me here.

A Visit to the Casa de la Primera Imprenta de América in Mexico City

By C.M. Mayo www.cmmayo.com

In the shadow of the National Palace: La Casa de la Primera Imprenta de América, the House of the First Printing Press in the Americas, Mexico City. Photo by C.M. Mayo, 2017.

This is an excerpt from my long essay, of creative nonfiction, “Dispatch from the Sister Republic or, Papelito Habla,” which is now available in Kindle.

…There is one more a pearl of a place that cannot go unmentioned in any discussion of our sister republic’s literary landscape…

From the Claustro de Sor Juana, in less than twenty minutes’ walk north and slightly east—weaving your way through the shoppers, touts, tourists, beggars, businessmen—honking cars and buses and motorbikes—and a skate-boarder or two—blaring music, freighters with their trolleys piled to toppling with boxes—don’t get run over by the pedicabs—and once at the Zócalo, wending around the Aztec dancers in feathers and ankle-rattles, the toothless shouter pumping his orange sign about SODOM Y GOMORRA MARIGUANA BODAS GAY, and an organ grinder, and to-ers and fro-ers of every age and size, you arrive, out of breath, at a squat, terracotta-colored three-story high building.

This is where the first book was printed in—no, not just in Mexico—then New Spain—but in the Americas. La Casa de la Primera Imprenta de América.

To step into the foyer of its museum and bookstore is to relax into an oasis of peace.

The uniformed guard hands me a pen to sign the guest book. It’s late afternoon; I am the third visitor for the day.

I take a gander at the exhibition of contemporary textile art—a few pieces reference one of Frida Kahlo’s drawings in the Casa Azul of a tentacled monster of paranoia, each limb tipped with a staring eye.

In the second gallery I find the replica of our continent’s first printing press soaking in sun from the window. The wooden contraption is taller than I am, but so spare, it occurs to me that it might serve to juice apples.

How my Mexican amigos scoffed at the auction of the Bay Psalm Book in 2013. Not about the record sum—14.2 million US dollars—for which that little book, printed in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1640, went to a private collector, but about the report in the international media that the Bay Psalm Book was “the first book printed in America.”

To Mexicans, America is the continent, not their sister republic. Mexico is part of the same continent, of course, and so the first book printed in America—or, as we estadounidenses prefer to say, the Americas—was

Breve y más compendiosa doctrina Cristiana en lengua Mexicana y Castellana (Brief and Most Comprehensive Christian Doctrine in Nahuátl and Spanish), printed right here, in Mexico City, in this building, in 1539.

Mexico beats out Massachusetts by 101 years! But this sinks to silliness. That printer in Cambridge, Massachussetts, was English, and the one in colonial Mexico City, a native of Lombardy named Giovanni Paoli, Hispanicized to “Juan Pablos.” The technology that found its way to the Americas with these printing pioneers—to the north, Protestants, to the south, Catholics, separated by religious schism and the whirlwinds of European politics, and that century, and moreover, by the staggering distance of desert, swamplands, oceanic buffalo-filled prairies, and sunless and unmapped forests—had one and the same root: the fifteenth-century workshop of a German goldsmith by the name of Johannes Gutenberg.

Gutenberg was inking his little pieces of movable type more than half a century before Christopher Columbus “sailed the ocean blue,” and the indigenous on this continent chanced to hear the first stirrings of vaguest rumors and weird omens.

Still, 1539 is an early date indeed for that first book printed in the Americas: only eighteen years after the fall of Tenochitlán. Three years after Cabeza de Vaca’s miraculous arrival in Mexico City. Fray Sahagún was still a year away from launching the research that would result in the Historia general de las cosas de la Nueva España, or the Florentine Codex. The lodes that would turn Mexico into an industrial-scale silver exporter had not yet been discovered. The Manila Galleons, treasure ships bringing porcelain, spices, and silks from China to Acapulco, would not begin their annual crossings for another twenty-six years.

In England, Henry the VIII was between wives three and four. It would be sixty-eight more years until the first, disastrous English settlement at Jamestown. The Pilgrims who would land at Plymouth Rock? As a religious community they did not yet exist.

Tucked in the shade of the National Palace and a block east from Mexico’s cathedral, the Casa de la Primera Imprenta was built, it turns out, over the ruin of the Aztec Temple of Tezcatlipoca, Smoking Mirror, trickster god of the night sky, of time, and of ancestral memory.

Who knows what still lies beneath in the rubble? Dug up in the eighteenth century during a renovation, a gigantic Aztec stone snake head was, no doubt with a shudder of horror, reburied. But we live in a different time with a very different sensibility. In 1989 when renovations unearthed that same Aztec stone snake head—elegant with fangs, nostrils, scales, eyes the size of melons—it was carefully excavated and cleaned by archaeologists. This monumental sculpture, heritage of the nation, is now displayed atop a roped platform in the Casa de la Primera Imprenta’s Juan Pablos bookstore, surrounded by a shelf of fiction, a table of poetry, and a sign informing us that the Aztec snake head is carved from grey basalt and weighs approximately one and a half tons.

The Juan Pablos bookstore, named for that original printer Giovanni Paoli, retails books from the press of Mexico City’s Universidad Autónomo Metropolitana (UAM). Such are my interests du jour: I came away with a copy of the first Spanish translation of an eighteenth-century Italian’s journey to Mexico and the 2015 El territorio y sus representaciones.

A splendid and very important book: *El territorio y sus representaciones* by Luis Ignacio Sainz Chávez and Jorge Gonzlález Aragón Castellanos, winner of the 2016 Premio de Investigación. Published by the Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana, Mexico.

END OF EXCERPT
From “Disptach from the Sister Republic or, Papelito Habla” by C.M. Mayo
Copyright 2017. All rights reserved.

UPDATE: “Dispatch from the Sister Republic or, Papelito Habla,” my long essay pon the Mexican literary landscape and the power of the book, is now available in Kindle at amazon.com.

# # # # #

>Your comments are always welcome. Click here to send me an email.

Lord Kingsborough’s Antiquities of Mexico

What the Muse Sent Me about the Tenth Muse,
Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz

Biographers International Interview with C.M. Mayo:
Strange Spark of the Mexican Revolution

Find out more about
C.M. Mayo’s books, articles, podcasts, and workshops.

Thank You, Dear Readers: On the Occasion of Madam Mayo Blog’s Eleventh Anniversary

Methuselah of Blogdom here. Why am I still blogging? I am heartened to say, dear readers, that I know you’re there, more of you each year, and I appreciate your visits and your comments (as always, I welcome comments via email, see below.)

As for the granular whys and wherefores of this blog, I wouldn’t say much that I didn’t say last year, on its tenth anniversary, which echoed much of what I had to say on its eighth anniversary. The latter link goes to my talk for the 2014 AWP Conference panel on “Homesteading on the Digital Frontier: Writer’s Blogs.” To quote from that:

Madam Mayo blog is not so much my so-called “platform,” but rather, a net that catches certain special fish— the readers who care about the things I care to write about.

As ever, I aim to provide posts on a variety of topics that might be, in turn, of use and/or interest for my writing workshop students, and/or for Mexicophiles, and/or for Far West Texasphiles (is that a word?), adventurous readers, and myself.

One of my many motivations for blogging is to iron out my own thoughts, especially on subjects that tend to come up in my correspondence with other writers and in my writing workshops, for example:

(What do you mean, “reading as a writer”?)
One Simple Yet Powerful Practice in Reading as a Writer

(How do you keep up with email?)
Email Ninjerie in the Theater of Space-Time

(Where do you find the time to write?)
Thirty Deadly-Effective Ways to Free Up Bits,
Drips & Gimungously Vast Swaths of Time for Writing

(What do you think about social media?)
Adios Facebook!Six Reasons Why I Deactivated My Account

You will also find posts on my work in-progress and anything relevant to it (at present, a book about Far West Texas):

A Visit to El Paso’s “The Equestrian”

Book review: Pekka Hamalainen’s The Comanche Empire

The Strangely Beautiful Sierra Madera Astrobleme (What’s an Astrobleme?)

Peyote and the Perfect You

Top 13 Trailers for Movies with with Extra-Astral Texiness

The Harrowingly Romantic Adventure of Trade with Mexico
in the Pre-pre-pre-NAFTA Era

Notes on Artist Xavier González (1898-1993)

Once in a zera-striped-chartreuse moon of Pluto I touch on nonwriterly topics:

12 Tips for Summer Day Hiking in the Desert (How to Stay Cool, Avoid Actinic Keratosis, Blood, and Killer Bees)

Yet one more reason to check in with this blog is for announcements about my publications and interviews:

Catamaran and Tiferet: Two Very Fine Independent Literary Journals

Biographers International Interview:
Strange Spark of the Mexican Revolution

New Thinking Allowed Interview by Jeffrey Mishlove
and a Review by Michael Tymn

Ax of Apocalypse: Strieber and Kripal’s Super Natural

To share my talks and podcasts:

For the 2016 Women Writing the West Conference:
On Seeing as an Artist or, Five Steps to a Journey to Einfuhlung

For the American Literary Translators Association Conference:
Translating Across the Border

> All Marfa Mondays Podcasts here.
> All podcasts here.

And, something I especially relish, to learn about and celebrate the work of other writers:

Ellen Cassedy and Yermiyahu Ahron Taub on Translating
Blume Lempel’s Oedipus in Brooklyn from the Yiddish

Shelley Armitage on Walking the Llano: A Texas Memoir of Place

P.S. For those of you who are writers / bloggers, herewith the top five things I would have done differently back in 2006 had I known what I know now:
1. Use WordPress
2. Post once per week, something verily crunchy, otherwise take a vacation;
3. Post interviews with other writers more often;
4. Maybe tweet the link to a post once or twice; otherwise do not waste time with social media;
5. When possible and when there is substantive content, upload the bulk of that content to the webpage, not the blog itself (because of those scraper sites).

P.P.S. Yep, one of these days I will move the whole enchilada over to WordPress. It’s still on my to-do list… [UPDATE JANUARY 2019: This blog is now on self-hosted WordPress at www.madam-mayo.com]

I welcome your courteous comments which, should you feel so moved, you can email to me here.

From the Writer’s Carousel: Literary Travel Writing

The Pecan: A History of America’s Native Nut By James McWilliams

The Marfa Mondays Podcast is Back! No. 21:
“Great Power in One: Miss Charles Emily Wilson”

What the Muse Sent Me About the Tenth Muse: Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz

Door to the quarters of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, “the Tenth Muse.” Photo by C.M. Mayo, 2017.

Late last year my amiga the brilliant short story writer Paula Whyman invited me to send a “Dispatch from Mexico City” for her new magazine, Scoundrel Time. So I dialed in to Muse HQ…

As I told Paula, woefully past the deadline, I had asked the Muse for a slider, a yummy little note about books in Mexico, but she delivered the whole ox. In other words, my “Dispatch from the Sister Republic or, Papelito Habla”is a novela-length essay about the Mexican literary landscape, from prehispanic codices to contemporary writers. It is what it is, I don’t want start chopping (there would be blood!!), but of course, a 30 page essay is too long for a magazine.

Scoundrel Time will be publishing an excerpt about Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca’s Relación-– a nearly 500 year-old memoir little known outside of Mexico and Texas, yet that stands as one of the most astonishing and important books ever written. (As soon that goes on-line, I will be sure to link to it from here. Read the piece about Cabeza de Vaca in Scoundrel Time here.)

As for my full-length essay, “Dispatch from the Sister Republic,” look for it as a Kindle under my own imprint, Dancing Chiva, ASAP. it is now available in Kindle.

Herewith my other favorite excerpt, about the Tenth Muse, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz:

Excerpt from
“DISPATCH FROM THE SISTER REPUBLIC OR, PAPELITO HABLA”
by C.M. MAYO

For rare book collectors, Mecca is Mexico City’s Colonia Centro, and for such aficionados of mexicana as myself, its sanctum sanctorum, the Librería Madero—by the way, recently relocated from the Avenida Madero to the Avenida Isabela La Católica, facing the the formidable wedding cake-white corner of the 16th century ex-convent of San Jerónimo, known today as the Claustro de Sor Juana, that is, the Convent of Sister Juana.

And if you would not know Sor Juana from a poinsettia, gentle reader, with all respect, you must crowbar out that boulder of ignorance, for which you will be rewarded by a glimpse of the diamond of the Mexico’s Baroque period, the first great Latin American poet and playwright, “the Tenth Muse,” a cloistered nun.

Texan poet John Campion was the first to translate Sor Juana’s magnum opus, “Primero sueño,” as “The Dream,” in 1983. (Alas, that date is not a typo.) Campion’s translation is out of print, but he offers a free PDF download of the text on his website, worldatuningfork.com. The first lines of Campion’s translation beautifully capture Sor Juana’s uncanny power:

Pyramidal
death-born shadow of earth
aimed at heaven
a proud point of vain obelisks
pretending to scale the Stars

In her time Sor Juana was one of the most learned individuals, man or woman, in the New World, and her prodigious oeuvre, from love poems to polemics, comedies to enigmas to plays to villancicos, was exceptionally sophisticated, so much so that its interpretation is today the province of a small army of sorjuanistas. As Mexico’s Nobel laureate poet Octavio Paz writes in Sor Juana: Or, the Traps of Faith (translated by Margaret Sayers Peden), “A work survives its readers; after a hundred or two hundred years it is read by new readers who impose on it new modes of reading and interpretation. The work survives because of these interpretations, which are in fact resurrections.”

And perchance startling discoveries. In his 2011 El eclipse del Sueño de Sor Juana, Américo Larralde Rangel makes a radiant case that her “Primero Sueño” describes the dawn over Mexico City after a lunar eclipse on the solstice of the winter of 1684.

In the Librería Madero I find on the first shelf, facing out, two new books by sorjuanistas: one about Sor Juana’s family, another, just published by a Legionario de Cristo, that purports to decipher her twenty enigmas. The latter work incorporates a series of contemporary paintings of Sor Juana in the baroque style—dim backgrounds, crowns and scepters of flowers, and afloat above her head, fat-tummied cherubs, flounces, unspooling bundles of draperies. But these Sor Juanas look too pert, make too coy a tilt of the head. It seems to me as if, session over, the model might have just tossed off that habit to wriggle into some yoga wear.

Yes, just as in the United States, in Mexican cities yoga studios have been popping up like honguitos.

But if a vision of modern Mexico would have been obscure to Sor Juana, by no means is Sor Juana obscure in modern Mexico. She has inspired scores of poets and musicians; there have been movies, documentaries, and novels, most recently, Mónica Lavin’s 2009 best-seller Yo, la peor (I, the Worst—yet to be translated into English—fingers crossed that Patricia Dubrava will do it).

Ex-convento of San Jerónimo, now the Universidad del Claustro de Sor Juana, Mexico City. Photo by C.M. Mayo, 2017.

As I write this in 2017, Sor Juana graces the celadon-green 200 peso bill. From the portrait by Miguel Cabrera in the Museo Nacional de Historia: a serenely intelligent young woman’s face framed in a wimple, and behind her, her quills and inkpot and an open book of her poetry—and a few lines:

Hombres necios que acusáis
a la mujer sin razón,
sin ver que sois la ocasión
de lo mismo que culpáis.

I cannot pretend to render the music of Sor Juana’s lines into English. But here’s a rough go at their literal meaning: You pig-headed men who accuse women unjustly, blind to the fact that you are the cause for that which you cast blame.

[…. CONTINUE READING]

UPDATE: “Dispatch from the Sister Republic or, Papelito Habla,” my long essay on the Mexican literary landscape and the power of the book, is now available in Kindle.

P.S. You will find more Mexico-related posts on this blog’s Mexico page. As you will see, there are a few posts that have been migrated, and many more to go– and more as yet unlisted. Plus, ayyy, there is the whole Maximilian – Carlota blog (History of Mexico’s Second Empire / French Intervention) to do…. It will happen.

Peyote and the Perfect You

Q & A: Colorado Poet Laureate Joseph Hutchison on The World As Is

Poetic Alliteration

Find out more about
C.M. Mayo’s books, articles, podcasts, and more.

Catamaran Literary Reader and Tiferet: Two Very Fine Literary Journals

While it is a joy to be able to publish without gatekeepers– joy enough that I for one have been blogging every Monday and oftentimes more often since 2006– a curated presentation of poetry and prose, that is, the traditionally edited literary magazine on ye olde paper, has not disappeared, nor will it, and thank goodness.

I am happy to report that a pair of very fine independent literary magazines has landed in my mailbox: Catamaran Literary Reader and Tiferet. I am also honored to report that the Fall 2016 issue of the former includes my translation of Mexican writer Rose Mary Salum’s short story “The Time,” and the Fall 2016 issue of the latter, an excerpt from my book, a work of creative nonfiction about a translation: Metaphysical Odyssey into the Mexican Revolution: Francisco I. Madero and His Secret Book, Spiritist Manual.

As an ex-literary magazine editor myself (Tameme), I have a big heart full of appreciation for such magazines. And when they are as unique, and as beautifully edited and exceptionally well-designed as these two, I want to get up on the top of the roof and toot a tuba– or something!

CATAMARAN LITERARY READER

Founding editor Catherine Segurson describes Catamaran as “pages full of color, inviting images, and engrossing stories, poems and essays—all from curious and inventive minds.”

Indeed: standouts in this issue include a poem and an essay by Richard Blanco, and the several paintings by Bo Bartlett, whose “Via Mal Contenti” graces the cover. More about artist Bo Bartlett in this brief video:

Catamaran makes a special effort to include literary translation in every issue. N.B.: Catamaran’s contributing editors include essayist and translator Thomas Christensen and poet, teacher, and noted translator Zack Rogow.

ABOUT ROSE MARY SALUM,
Mexican Poet and Writer

Mexican writer and poet Rose Mary Salum is the editor of Literal, and editor of the anthology Delta de las arenas: Cuentos árabes, cuentos judíos. Her collection of linked short stories set in the Midde East, which includes “The Time,” is El agua que mece el silencio. My translation, in-progress, is entitled The Water That Rocks the Silence. If you read Spanish, check out her interview in El Páis.

>> See my previous post about her work in Origins.

>> See also my in-depth interview with Salum in Conversations with Other Writers.)

TIFERET

Tiferet is published by novelist and poet Donna Baier-Stein. I echo poet Molly Peacock’s praise:

“Thank you for this journal which combines spiritual issues, imaginative issues, esthetic issues. All of those, I think, need to be in the mix for the richly lived life, the richly observed life.”

This Fall 2016 issue opens with a splendid essay by poet Mark Doty, “Luckier / Rowdyish, Carlacue, Wormfence and Foosfoos.” Just for that yonder-galaxy-beyond-the-Cineplex-title: Another thank you!

ABOUT FRANCISCO I. MADERO,
Leader of Mexico’s 1910 Revolution; President of Mexico, 1911-1913

My piece in Tiferet about Madero’s 1911 Spiritist Manual did not include any of my translation, but you can read some of that here. Caveat: If you are unfamiliar with metaphysics you might find Madero’s Spiritist Manual… oh, I guess I would say… wiggy-zoomy.

In which case, I invite you to read my book about that book, my own wiggy-zoomy attempt to give it some cultural-historical-political context, which is available from amazon and other major sellers, and the website offers several lengthy excerpts, as well as extentive Q & A, a podcast of my talk for the University of California San Diego US Mexican Studies Center, the Centennial Lecture for University of Texas El Paso, and several other talks and interviews here. (My personal fave is Greg Kaminsky’s Occult of Personality.)

P.S. & P.S.S.

P.S. For those of you, dear readers, looking to publish in literary magazines, everything I have to say about the oftentimes crazy-making lottery-like ritual is here. If you are audacious enough to start your own journal, I say, go for it! Please! (But bring a case of apirin and a few wheelbarrows of dough. The green kind.) I have more to say about literary magazines, past, mine, and future, here. And for an interview with an editor who managed to establish an unusual level of financial viability, be sure to check out my podcast interview with Dallas Baxter, founder of Cenizo Journal.

P.S.S. If you’re wondering what’s up with Marfa Mondays, stay tuned, the long overdue podcast 21 is still in-progress. Listen in to the other 20 podcasts posted to date here.

Transcript of C.M. Mayo’s remarks for the panel
“Translating the Other Side”
American Literary Translators Association conference,
Tucson, Arizona, October 30, 2015

Find out more about
C.M. Mayo’s books, articles, podcasts, and more.

A Visit to El Paso’s “The Equestrian”

This finds me working on the book on Far West Texas, and about to resume the Marfa Mondays podcasts (20 podcasts posted so far, 4 more to go, listen in anytime). I just posted a brief video of my visit last November to see, among other wonders and curiosities, a most extraordinary and controversial statue at the El Paso International Airport.

Because of the way it is placed, directly behind a grove of extra-fluffy trees, and at the entrance where most drivers, speeding in, are on the lookout for signs, such as rental car return, departures, arrivals or parking, I daresay few passersby would even notice the statue. I myself drove by it more times that I would like to admit before I realized it was there.

Here’s my 3 minute video:

My video mentions “The Last Conquistador,” a magnificent documentary about this statue and the controversy. Watch the trailer:

POV Interactive offers the first clip of “The Last Conquistador” documentary:

For “Behind the Lens POV PBS”
Cristina Ibarra and John Valadez Talk about the Juan de Oñate Sculpture:

I’ll give the sculptor, John Sherrill Houser, the last word, quoting him from the documentary:

“Here it is, look at this and think about it, good and bad, the whole thing. The history.”

Notes on Tom Lea and His Epic Masterpiece of a Western,
The Wonderful Country

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Biographers International Interview with C.M. Mayo: Strange Spark of the Mexican Revolution

I am the featured member interview this month in the Biographers International newsletter. Herewith:

BIOGRAPHERS INTERNATIONAL: What is your current project and at what stage is it?

C.M. MAYO: I’m at work on World Waiting for a Dream: A Turn in Far West Texas, not a biography properly so-called, but the narrative weaves in some history and so encompasses a number of biographical vignettes from Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca, the conquistador who got lost, to some of the contemporary artists working in Marfa. Stage: still banging out the first complete draft.

Francisco I. Madero, leader of Mexico’s 1910 Revolution and President of Mexico, 1911-1913.

My latest publication, however, is about a major figure of the Mexican Revolution, and that certainly informs the Far West Texas book, for some of the key battles were fought along the US-Mexico border: Metaphysical Odyssey into the Mexican Revolution: Francisco I. Madero and His Secret Book, Spiritist Manual.

Madero was the leader of Mexico’s 1910 Revolution and President of Mexico from 1911-1913, so the fact that he was a Spiritist medium and, albeit under a pseudonym, author of a book of Spiritism published in—yes—1911, is a dramatic twist in the paradigm of how we understand the spark of the Mexican Revolution.

My book, which includes my translation of Madero’s book, was published in 2014, so I am well into the promotion stage. (I’m delighted to report that Metaphysical Odyssey into the Mexican Revolutionwon the National Indie Excellence Award for History, and to date, I’ve given talks about it at Mexico City’s Centro de Estudios de la Historia de México, Rice University, Stanford University, UCSD’s Center for US-Mexico Studies, and the University of Texas El Paso, among other venues.)

> Listen to and/or read some of my talks about this book here.

BI: What person would you most like to write about?

C.M. MAYO: At the moment, because I’m writing about Far West Texas, pioneer petroleum geologist Wallace E. Pratt. I am especially intrigued that he would choose to live for many years in a such an isolated place as McKittrick Canyon, deep in the Guadalupe Mountains. It is, in large part, thanks to Pratt’s visionary gift that we now have the Guadalupe Mountains National Park. I am very honored to say that I will be one of the artists-in-residence in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park this spring, so I will have the chance to retrace his steps and visit his house.

BI: Who is your favorite biographer or what is your favorite biography?

C.M. MAYO: As far as my Far West Texas reading goes, I both admired and especially relished the biography of the 20th century bard of Texas, J. Frank Dobie: A Liberated Mind, by Stephen L. Davis. Many of the popular ideas we take for granted about Texas and Texans have their roots in Dobie’s works.

My two all-time favorite biographies are Nancy Marie Brown’s The Far-Traveler: Voyages of a Viking Woman and Paula Kamen’s Finding Iris Chang: Friendship, Ambition, and the Loss of an Extraordinary Mind.

*Metaphysical Odyssey into the Mexican Revolution: Francisco I. Madero and His Secret Book, Spiritist Manual.*

BI: What have been your most satisfying moments as a biographer?

C.M. MAYO: I’ll answer this for my book on Francisco I. Madero, Metaphysical Odyssey into the Mexican Revolution. After many years of reading and archival research, it was tremendously satisfying to be able to fit together the pieces of what had been a humdinger of a puzzle—how could Madero be rifle-toting revolutionary and a Spiritist, a savvy political organizer and victim of a coup d’etat?— into a narrative of high strangeness but relative sense. Suddenly Mexico itself looked very different.

BI: One research/marketing/attitudinal tip to share?

C.M. MAYO: As a biographer I have only published the one title, however, I have published several other works of fiction and nonfiction, so I do have more than a little experience about this perennially mystifying and consternating topic.

My short answer is three words: sports psychology helps.

My long answer is: take consistent resilient actions, answer the email that deserves an answer, write an op-ed if you can, and be generous (what goes around comes around, albeit willynilly). The true reward is in the writing itself. It is a wondrous privilege to be able to write at all. Don’t ignore the “publishing business,” but don’t take it too seriously, either. Books can have deeply strange destinies. After all, they are magical time travelers.

BI: What genre, besides biography, do you read for pleasure and who are some of your favorite writers?

C.M. MAYO: I mainly read history, literary essay, and literary fiction. Just this year I’ve come across several historians who are my new favorites: Patricia Nelson Limerick (The Legacy of Conquest: The Unbroken Past of the American West); Jill Lepore (The Name of War: King Philip’s War and the Origin of American Identity); and Rebecca Solnit (River of Shadows: Eadweard Muybridge and the Technological Wild West).

For literary essay I remain in awe of V.S. Naipaul, in particular, his memoir published in 1989, A Turn in the South. This year I especially admired Shelley Armitage’s Walking the Llano: A Texas Memoir of Place and, last year, one of my favorite writers writing on Mexico, Sam Quinones, brought out Dreamland: The True Tale of America’s Opiate Epidemic— a grenade of a book, a must read for anyone and everyone living anywhere in North America.

Fiction: Agustín Cadena, Truman Capote, Willa Cather, Anton Chekhov, Giuseppe di Lampedusa, Ann Patchett, Leo Tolstoy, Edith Wharton.

Peyote and the Perfect You

Translating Across the Border
(A Transcript of Remarks for a Panel at the American Literary Translators Association Conference)

The Strangely Beautiful Sierra Madera Astrobleme

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Typosphere, Ho! “Stay West” on my 1961 Hermes 3000

My first attempt at typing on a typewriter in nearly thirty years. From: *Meteor.*

My writing assistant denies any and all responsibility for slipshod typing or head-scratching sushi poetry.

Thank you, Typewriter Techs! My refurbished 1961 Hermes 3000 typewriter has arrived in Mexico City. Typewriter Techs, the Riverside, Illinois company that refurbished it, shipped it to California in a box so well padded it could have survived a Mars landing; having discarded the packing materials and box, I then grew some new biceps carrying it on board my flight home. I’d say it weighs about the same as a wet brick. It was a loooooong way from the security screening area to the gate. Jack LaLanne, watch out.

No, not the French scarf and tie and stupendaridiculously-expensive-whatnots company. This Hermes was of Swiss manufacture of yore.

The color is just as I had hoped, a foamy celadon (although it looks gray in this photo— too strong a flash).

LIKE TIME TRAVELING

I’m old enough to have had nearly two decades of experience with typewriters, both manual and electric, before I started using a computer in the late 1980s. It was an eerie experience to type on a typewriter again… like time traveling.

My first attempts at typing on this antique were clumsy, since I am, as are we all, so used to letting fingertips fly over a laptop’s keys and making scads of corrections en medias res and whatever whenever wherever and with the benefit of, after penicillin and sliced bread, the bestest thing ever invented: CNTRL Z!

But I like the deliberateness of typing on a manual typewriter— the goose-stepping linearity of it. That is the whole point, for me as a writer now. (Why? See my previous post, Consider the Typewriter. Am I Kidding? No, I Am Not Kidding.)

Madam Mayo says, The Anti-Digital Revolution will be Youtubed! And blogged! And, when I get around to it, tweeted! Git yer iron-knee right here, on a spatula! But seriously, check out this fine trailer for philosopher Richard Post’s excellent and thought-provoking resource The Typewriter Revolution.

WHY AN HERMES 3000?

I chose the Hermes 3000 because of Richard Polt’s recommendation in The Typewriter Revolution: A Typist’s Companion for the 21st Century:

“The 3000 model is a Swiss segment-shifted typewriter with excellent alignment, smooth carriage return, and quality manufacturing, introduced in the fifties. You’ll find it in a wonderfully bulbous body, painted in a color that some call “sea-foam green”… Not the very fastest or snappiest typewriter, but “buttery” in its smoothness, as fans like to say… Users include Larry McMurtry, Sam Shepard, Eugene Ionesco, and Stephen Fry.”

A tip of the Stetson to my fellow Texan Mr. McMurtry. As for Monsieur Ionesco, voila l’entrevue:

Watch the interview with English subtitles here. No, alas, Ionesco’s Hermes 3000 does not make an appearance. *Mais nous pouvons utiliser notre imagination.*

My 1961 Hermes 3000 arrived in its original carrying case along with, LOL, total yay, a packet of jellybeans!!

Under the jellybeans, a message from Typewriter Techs…

The original 1961 Hermes 3000 instruction manual. (Ha! Will those websites and YouTubes still be available and playable in 55 years? You reeeeeeaaaaaaalllly think so…?)

The warranty, yay, from Typewriter Techs.

I WILL NOT PANIC ABOUT TYPEWRITER RIBBONS NO I WILL NOT PANIC

Although we now inhabit a consumersphere rife with such ecologically exploitative poppycock as single-serve Nespresso capsules… it is nonetheless easy-peasy to find typewriter ribbons that work for multitudinous models and makes of typewriters. I knew that from reading Polt’s The Typewriter Revolution, and a quick Google. Furthermore, Typewriter Techs included this with their shipment:

In case you cannot read the image and/or your brain, like mine, goes into blur mode WITH ANYTHING WRITTEN PLEASEGODWHY ALL IN CAPITAL LETTERS, it says:

“ALL ABOUT RIBBONS

“In the 1950s ribbon sales topped 50 million annually, they were the toner of their day. But unlike toner most typewriters will take the same ribbons. There are several direct replacement ribbons available for most machines. If you cannot find one, don’t panic. The ribbon itself is identical, only the spool changes. We recommend you purchase the genetic black., or black and red ribbon and rewind it onto your current spools. This is the least expensive and guarantees a correct fit. You can also contact us we stock a large variety if replacement ribbons.

“Cloth ribbons will hold more ink than nylon. Cotton will soak up the ink, nylon it just lays on top of it. A typical ribbon should last about 900,000 characters or about 180,000 words… That’s around 500 pages. A good quality ribbon will transfer the ink without leaving excessive ink on the type bars or pages. If the entire type slug is covered in blue, it’s probably not a good ribbon to use again. Black only ribbons can be turned upside down and doubled in life.”

YE PAD

A related and most felicitous purchase was the Jackalope typewriter pad. Definitely it cuts the noise.

The typewriter pad. Land o’ Goshen, why didn’t I use one of these before?

LAST BUT NOT LEAST, YE LOVELY TYPEWRITER FABRIC

My writing assistant remains confused but pugfully blasé.

A most thoughtful holiday gift from my sister’s dog (yes, in our family the dogs give presents): this yardage of neat-o typewriter fabric and I do like it draped over the Hermes, just so. Nope, I am not going to attempt anything on a sewing machine, the typewriter is my own personal Mount Everest for the moment. Must get typing.

More anon.

Consider the Typewriter (Am I Kidding? No, I Am Not Kidding)

Q & A: Ellen Cassedy and Yermiyahu Ahron Taub on Translating Blume Lempel’s Oedipus in Brooklyn from the Yiddish

From the Typosphere: “Bank”

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Consider the Typewriter (Am I Kidding? No, I Am Not Kidding)

Perhaps, dear writerly reader, you have heard of Freedom, the app that blocks the Internet so you can focus on your writing (or whatever offline task). It is not cheap; prices have gone up more than a smidge (ayyyy!) since I purchased it some years ago for a mere USD 10. Nope, I don’t use it. End of review.

[UPDATE: As of March 2019 I use the latest version of the Freedom app and can recommend it. I plan to post about my experience with the Freedom app on one of the second Monday of the month workshop posts in 2021.]

Of course, a more economical alternative for those who work at home would be to simply switch off the wi-fi signal.

But never mind, there you are, glued to your computer, same screen, same keyboard, same desk, same chair, and whether you’re using the Freedom app or you’ve turned off the wi-fi signal, either can be reversed (that is, the Freedom app turned off, or the wi-fi switched back on) in a matter of the slight inconvenience of a moment. Staying off-line when you’re working on a computer is akin to trying to diet with an open box of chocolates within reach! As they say, Don’t think about the pink elephant. Or, elephant-shaped chocolates with a cherry in the middle! Or, for a more au courant Internetesque analogy, Don’t think about cats! And certainly not cats wearing hats!

YE OLDE NONELECTRIC TYPEWRITER

Yet another strategy for diminishing the pull of the Internet, at least for some writers some of the time, would be to get up from the computer, aka the distraction machine, and hie thee over to ye olde typewriter.

My typewriter went to Goodwill years ago. But now, with a book to complete, I am seriously considering going back to using a typewriter. I am old enough to remember typing up my papers for school and college, that satisfying clackety-clack and the little ding at the end of the right margin… The calm. The focus.

Speaking of analogerie, I am also, as those of you who follow this blog well know, massively, as in an-entire-parade-ground-filled-with-dancing-pink-elephants-and-cats-in-hats-all- under-a-rain-of-chocolates, massively, relieved to have deactivated my Facebook account . That was back in August of 2015. Yes indeed, having eliminated that particular bungee-pull to the Internet, I have gotten a lot more writing done, and I am answering my email in a more consistently timely manner.

So, typewriters. I spent an afternoon of the Thanksgiving weekend doing some Internet research. Herewith:

Five Reasons to Still Use a Typewriter
By Gerry Holt, BBC News Magazine

The Hidden World of the TypewriterBy James Joiner, The Atlantic

The Typewriter Revolution: A Typist’s Companion for the 21st Century
By Richard Polt
A superb reference written by a professor of philosophy. His blog is The Typewriter Revolution

WHERE TO FIND A GOOD OLD (AND MAYBE REALLY OLD) NONELECTRIC TYPEWRITER

Why nonelectric? It might be nice to type in the tipi! But also, it seems that some of the best workhorse typewriters are nonelectrics made back in the mid-20th century. The only nonelectric typewriters currently being manufactured are from China and although cheap, they’re crap, so if a nonelectric typewriter is what you want, think vintage.

For a rundown on vintage brands and models, both nonelectric and electric, Polt’s The Typewriter Revolution is an excellent resource. On his website Polt also maintains a list of typewriter repair shops.

You could start combing through the cheapie listings on EBay and Goodwill, and if you have the time and can stand the skanky vibes, peruse the stalls in your local flea market. You might even grab a typewriter for free– perhaps the one gathering cobwebs in your parents’ garage…

But it seems to me that, if you want to start typing ASAP on a good vintage machine, the best strategy would be to shell out the clams to a dealer who specializes in refurbishing or “reconditioning” quality typewriters, and who offers his or her customers a guarantee. I should think you would also want to confirm that it will be possible to source ribbons.