Q & A with Álvaro Santana-Acuña on Writing “Ascent to Glory: How ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ Was Written and Became a Global Classic”

This blog posts on Mondays. Fourth Mondays of the month I devote to a Q & A with a fellow writer.

Every single person alive today was born in a world in which the Odyssey, the Mahābhārata, Don Quixote, and many other classics have been around for centuries. I decided to write Ascent for readers interested in understanding how One Hundred Years of Solitude was made and became a classic that keeps entering the lives of people on all continents.” — Álvaro Santana-Acuña

It was my amigo translator Harry Morales who alerted me to this fascinating, thoroughly researched, elegantly argued, and altogether extra-super-crunchy book by sociologist Álvaro Santana-Acuña: Ascent to Glory, about the rocket-into-the-stratosphere international success of Gabriel García Márquez’s epic novel One Hundred Years of Solitude. As a novelist myself (The Last Prince of the Mexican Empire), I will admit to, maybe, a smidgette of curiosity about the secret sauce behind the marketing of García Márquez’s book. Suffice to say, I found Ascent to Glory so illuminating that I expect to reread it more than once. Apart from opening a window onto this classic novel and Latin American and international cultural history, Ascent to Glory is also vital reading for anyone interested in the history of publishing per se— there is much to learn about the Latin American publishing industry over the second half of the 20th century, and this history is especially important to appreciate now that we are all in this nuevo mundo or, perhaps I should say, on a nuevo planeta, with digital media and amazon.com.

Álvaro Santana-Acuña earned his PhD from Harvard University and is currently Assistant Professor of Sociology at Whitman College. He is a contributor to  The New York Times,  The New York Times en español, and  El País. Recently for the Harry Ransom Center he curated “ Gabriel García Márquez: The Making of a Global Writer,” the first major exhibition featuring documents from the García Márquez’s archives, alongside other materials by William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, Virginia Woolf, Jorge Luis Borges, and Julio Cortázar. Look for this exhibition at the Museo de Arte Moderno in Mexico City in 2021.

Here’s the official catalog copy from Columbia University Press for Ascent to Glory:

Gabriel García Márquez’s novel One Hundred Years of Solitude seemed destined for obscurity upon its publication in 1967. The little-known author, small publisher, magical style, and setting in a remote Caribbean village were hardly the usual ingredients for success in the literary marketplace. Yet today it ranks among the best-selling books of all time. Translated into dozens of languages, it continues to enter the lives of new readers around the world. How did One Hundred Years of Solitude achieve this unlikely success? And what does its trajectory tell us about how a work of art becomes a classic? Ascent to Glory is a groundbreaking study of One Hundred Years of Solitude, from the moment García Márquez first had the idea for the novel to its global consecration. Using new documents from the author’s archives, Álvaro Santana-Acuña shows how García Márquez wrote the novel, going beyond the many legends that surround it. He unveils the literary ideas and networks that made possible the book’s creation and initial success. Santana-Acuña then follows this novel’s path in more than seventy countries on five continents and explains how thousands of people and organizations have helped it to become a global classic. Shedding new light on the novel’s imagination, production, and reception, Ascent to Glory is an eye-opening book for cultural sociologists and literary historians as well as for fans of García Márquez and One Hundred Years of Solitude.

C.M. MAYO: In brief, what inspired you to write Ascent to Glory?

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: It all happened the fall of 2007, in October or November. I had just started living in Cambridge, Massachusetts. By then, I have read a lot about the city’s history, especially its world class universities MIT and Harvard. But I knew nothing about its weather. That fall it was raining almost non-stop for days. One afternoon I was walking with my umbrella under the rain. I was heading towards Lamont library on the Harvard University campus and, while climbing the stairs next to the building, I could hear my footsteps on the water puddles and the rain drumming on the umbrella. It was at this moment, cornered by the water, that I said to myself out loud “gosh, it rains like in Macondo.” Right there, it hit me the connection between the never-ending rain in Cambridge and in Macondo, which in One Hundred Years of Solitude went on for more than four years. The rain in Cambridge did not last long but it gifted me the idea for Ascent to Glory

C.M. MAYO: As you were writing, did you have in mind an ideal reader?

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: At first, I wanted to understand why I made such a personal connection between the rain in Cambridge and Macondo. I was puzzled by it because the two cities are so different—to begin with, one is real and the other is fictional. Also, at that time, I had never been to Latin America, where One Hundred Years of Solitude takes place, and I had read the book more than ten years earlier. When I started doing the research for Ascent, about a year after the rain epiphany, I realized that my experience was similar to that of millions of readers whose lives are touched by classics. At some point, classics enter our lives in unexpected ways, stay with us for years, and eventually outlive us. Every single person alive today was born in a world in which the Odyssey, the MahābhārataDon Quixote, and many other classics have been around for centuries. I decided to write Ascent for readers interested in understanding how One Hundred Years of Solitude was made and became a classic that keeps entering the lives of people on all continents. 

C.M. MAYO: Now that it has been published, can you describe the ideal reader for this book as you see him or her now?

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: I worked on Ascent for eleven years. During that time, I ran into all kinds of people, from apple farmers to taxi drivers to Nobel laurates, interested in my book. To my surprise, they were eager to share their memories of when, how, and why they first read One Hundred Years of Solitude. Many told me great things about the novel and many also expressed their disapproval. They all had something meaningful to say about the book. Thus, over the years, the ideal reader for Ascent has grown beyond sociology to include fans of literature and classics at large.

C.M. MAYO: In your researches, what are the one or two things that most surprised you to uncover?

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: One thing I learned about me is that, in order to write a better book, I refused to take any shortcuts. Let me give you one example. The manuscript was done in early 2017. But in May I received a fellowship from the Harry Ransom Center in Austin, which holds the personal archives of García Márquez, including documentation about the making of One Hundred Years of Solitude. I ventured into his archives with one goal: to factcheck what I had already written. Days passed and I got more and more immersed into his correspondence, notes, and manuscripts. I realized then that I had to choose between doing some facelifting to the manuscript or rewriting it. I decided to sit down and rewrite. This meant that finishing Ascent took me two more years. I think it is a better book because of this choice. Maybe García Márquez had something to do with it, too. As I was going through the manuscripts of his works, I understood his approach to writing, his craftmanship, his obsession with arriving at the best manuscript he could write. For One Hundred Years of Solitude, it took him seventeen years to reach that point. 

To make future research about his novel more difficult, García Márquez destroyed all his notebooks and preliminary drafts. If I wanted to tell readers how he actually wrote it, I had to understand that myself first. For years I found myself looking for clues between the lines of unknown manuscripts, rare interviews, and cryptic letters. It was then when I remembered what Umberto Eco said about the writing of The Name of the Rose. His novel tells the story of characters who try to read what is in Aristotle’s famous volume on comedy. The truth is that nobody knows what is in the lost volume of Aristotle’s Poetics. But in the process of writing his novel, Eco discovered it and shared it with his readers. For me, one of the most surprising things I share with Ascent’s readers is information about the alternative beginnings and ends for the novel, the removal of characters, the transformations experienced by others like Remedios the Beauty, and the edits in places where I know he deleted words, sentences, and full paragraphs. I felt at times that I was watching over his shoulder, seeing him typing the story on his electric typewriter. Witnessing that moment has been an incredible experience. Imagine that you could stand next to Shakespeare as he was writing Hamlet. Readers of Ascent will learn how García Márquez wrote his masterpiece.

C.M. MAYO: Can you share any surprises for you about your book’s reception?

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: Ascent has been well received so far, including generous reviews by literary critics, scholars, and common readers in Latin America, the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Bulgaria, Turkey, India, Australia… One of Latin America’s leading literary critics suggested that Ascent may become a “canonical study.” In the United States, a young reviewer, who truly dislikes One Hundred Years of Solitude, wrote a review, highlighting the facts in Ascent that, in her opinion, prove that García Márquez’s novel is pretty bad and overrated. Paradoxically, this is one of the findings in Ascent: bad press helps to build a strong reputation. Classics become classics not only thanks to readers’ praise but also thanks to their entrenched criticism. In the case of One Hundred Years of Solitude, over half a century after its publication, its haters are as bellicose an army as its lovers. So, the global reception of Ascent has brought full circle the point about how One Hundred Years of Solitude has become a global classic. 

C.M. MAYO: Which writers have been the most important influences for you as a writer of narrative nonfiction? And for Ascent in particular?

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: I have always been attracted to historical narratives and I have learned a great deal from the works of E.P. Thompson, Eric Hobsbawm, and especially Carlo Ginzburg, author of the classic The Cheese and the Worms, a fascinating study of a 16th-century miller executed by the Italian inquisition. A book that I often reread is Max Weber’s The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, one of the most powerful sociology narratives ever written. Other nonfiction influences include Lévi-Strauss’s Tristes Tropiques, Foucault’s The Order of Things, and Margaret Mead’s Sex and Temperament in Three Primitive Societies. Above, I mentioned Umberto Eco, whose fiction and nonfiction work speaks to me from an early age. More recently, I follow the work for large audiences written by one of my grad school teachers Nicholas Christakis. Finally, an important influence has been García Márquez himself, who was a masterful nonfiction writer, too. 

C.M. MAYO: Which writers are you reading now? 

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: I just finished writing Primeras personas by writer, editor, and journalist Juan Cruz, who recalls his encounters and friendships with some of the most important literary figures of the last half century. Believe or not, I just started reading One Hundred Years of Solitude, once more; this time because I am working on the Spanish version of Ascent

C.M. MAYO: How has the Digital Revolution affected your writing? Specifically, has it become more challenging to stay focused with the siren calls of email, texting, blogs, online newspapers and magazines, social media, and such? If so, do you have some tips and tricks you might be able to share? 

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: While I am writing, I minimize interruptions, including turning off my cellphone and notifications. I only turn it back on when I am having a break. In general, I try to use social media as little as possible. What I do is to log in, scroll down a few posts, and, if I have to post something, I do it and then log off. The truth is that, when we are on social media, we easily loose ownership of our time, which we put for free at the disposal of these companies. We become their workers. I prefer to use my time for other things.

C.M. MAYO: Another question apropos of the Digital Revolution. At what point were you working on paper? Was working on paper necessary for you or problematic?

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: Back in the 1990s, I started writing my manuscripts in longhand and I copied them out on a mechanical typewriter. Shortly after, I transitioned to an electric typewriter and eventually a computer. It took me a few years before I dared to write directly on the computer. Even today I continue to use a paper notebook. I also use my cellphone as a digital notebook for ideas that afterwards I put on paper. I prefer to do the most demanding writing in the morning, usually for up to four hours. After that, my eyesight gets fatigued from the computer screen. Like most people I know, I have become a writing cyborg—an organism that combines mechanical and digital techniques and devices to write. 

C.M. MAYO: For writers of narrative nonfiction keeping notes and papers organized can be more than tremendously challenging. Would you have any tips to share? 

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: Narrative nonfiction must rely on real facts. Paper management is crucial to organize the facts you need to write your story. For this reason, one tip is to annotate your data’s location in full when you are doing the research and when you are writing a draft. If you are working on something for a few days or weeks, you probably can track down that incomplete reference fast. But when you have done research for eleven years for a book like Ascent, which contains facts from over forty foreign languages, ninety countries, fifty years, and five hundred people and organizations on all continents, it is impossible to recall the location of everything you are using to create the narrative.

Another tip is to not confuse rigor with pointless erudition. It is tempting to cross the fine between the two in search of a surprising detail. But every fact has to contribute to move the narrative forward. Otherwise, you lose your reader. 

A final tip is to know when to stop. One can accumulate facts and facts, hoping to have a more detailed narrative and never finish it. I recall that the summer of 2018, when I was about to finish a new full version of the manuscript, I was back in Cambridge, doing research at Harvard’s Widener Library. I gathered data that I was hoping to add to the manuscript. To do so, I would have had to rewrite the second part of Ascent, about three chapters. Luckily, my grad school advisor Michèle Lamont was in town that summer and over lunch, as I explained to her my work on the manuscript, she told me that it was ready to go.

C.M. MAYO: For those looking to publish, what would be your most hard-earned piece of advice?

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: Write as well as you can, take no shortcuts, and surround yourself with people who truly understand why and what you write.

C.M. MAYO: What important piece of advice would you give yourself if you could travel back in time eleven years?

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: Since I did not know back then I was writing a book, I would say to myself to enjoy the process from the moment the Cambridge rain hit my umbrella. 

C.M. MAYO: What’s next for you as a writer?

ÁLVARO SANTANA-ACUÑA: I am now working on the Spanish version of Ascent, entitled Ascenso a la gloria: biografía de Cien años de soledad. It is not really a translation but a new book, including new data. I feel the book’s tone has to be different for Spanish readers. I know this is unusual. In nonfiction books, most authors just oversee the translation and change a few things. Some authors add a new prologue to the translated version and only handful go as far as to write a new chapter. I am trying here something new in writing; Ascent and Ascenso will be twin books.

After Ascenso, I will start writing a new manuscript, for which I have already done the research. It is a history book about one of the things made in France that arguably have most shaped the world. And it is not the croissant, but a particular way of representing space: the land survey maps called cadastre. What inspired me to write that book was not the rain but a conversation with an immigrant taxi driver as he drove down a Parisian boulevard. 

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> Columbia University Press page for Álvaro Santana-Acuña’s Ascent to Glory
> Read his article for The Atlantic Monthly “How One Hundred Years of Solitude Became a Classic”
> Check out the guide and video for the exhibition he curated at the Harry Ransom Center in Austin, Texas.
> Álvaro Santana-Acuña’s website at Whitman College
> Álvaro Santana-Acuña’s page on academia.edu

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

Second Mondays are for the workshop, for example:
Conjecture: The Powerful, Upfront, Fair and Square Technique 
to Blend Fiction into Your Nonfiction

Fourth Mondays are for Q & As, for example:
Q & A: Joseph Hutchison, Poet Laureate of Colorado, on The World As Is

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My new book is Meteor

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

Timothy Heyman on B. Traven in “Literal,” Christina Thompson’s “Sea Peoples,” Cal Newport’s “Deep Questions” Podcast & More Cyberflanerie

Literal Magazine has just published my interview with Timothy Heyman about the incomparable legacy of German-Mexican novelist B. Traven— and the mystery, apparently solved, of Traven’s true identity. You can also read Heyman’s essay “Traven’s Triumph” here.

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Earlier this month I published my annual top books read list, so I’ll have to add Christina Thompson’s Sea Peoples: The Puzzle of Polynesia, which I am only a couple of chapters away from finishing, to the 2021 list. What a delight it is! More delightful still to discover Thompson’s webpage with podcasts and YouTube interviews galore.

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This is the time of year for cooking, and with the pandemic, that means even more cooking. My partners in this endeavor, otherwise employed as my writing assistants, communicate by means of dagger-looks which I, by long experience, know to translate as “Gimme me the ham!” and then again, “Gimme the ham!” And then: “Gimme the ham!” Thank goodness for podcasts!

My go-to podcast for the past week has been Cal Newport’s “Deep Questions.” He’s the Joyce Carol Oates of best-sellerdom, that is, to say, how in thundernation does he manage to do so much (and be a tenured professor of computer science)? He tries to explain it in his podcast! As I stir soup and chop the potatoes (…and, as commanded, distribute tiny bites of ham…) I find his podcast strangely soothing.

More cyberflanerie:

My amiga poet, essayist and translator Patricia Dubrava has posted her top books read list here; and novelist, short story writer and essayist Leslie Pietrzyk has posted hers here.

Recommended by my writing assistants:
Pugsnuggly, PugNotes (love the Bummlies!), and the ever-wonderful Apifera Farm and shop of artist Katherine Dunn.

A Glimpse of the New Literary Puzzlescape

Consider the Typewriter

What Is Writing (Really)? 
Plus A New Video of Yours Truly Talking About 
Four Exceedingly Rare Books Essential 
for Scholars of the Mexican Revolution

Shake It Up with Emulation-Permutation Exercises

This blog posts on Mondays. Second Mondays of the month I devote to my writing workshop students and anyone else interested in creative writing. Welcome!

> For the archive of workshop posts click here.

My mantra is, your best teachers are the books you have already read and truly loved. One way to extract the lessons they can provide to you as a writer is by way of what I call emulation-permutation exercises.

I especially admired this fragment in Henry James’s The Ambassadors :

the sky was silver and turquoise and varnish

so I broke it down as follows:

the sky was [some kind of metal] and [some of stone] and [some kind of liquid].

Mine:

the sky was gold and sapphire and milk.

the sky was tin and coal and whiskey.

the sky was brass and amber and bootblack.

Try doing as many of these as you can, whether one, two, or seventeen. Then, circle the one that strikes you as the most vivid and/ or apt for the manuscript you are currently working on.

Another example:

In reading Julia Glass’s novel, Three Junes, I admired this passage:

Paging through the news from afar, he finds himself tired of it all. Tired of Maggie Thatcher, her hedgehog eyes, her vacuous hair, her cotton-mouthed edicts on jobs, on taxes, on terrorist acts.

So, breaking this into chunks: 

her [name of uncommon animal] eyes, her [quirky adjective] hair, her [adjective describing mouth / voice] [some form of speech] on [noun], on [noun], on [noun].

At the time I was writing The Last Prince of the Mexican Empire and struggling for a vivid description of one of my key characters, Princess Josefa de Iturbide, then an aging and overpowering spinster who has taken over the care of her nephew– from the point of view of another character, who was disinclined to be sympathetic. I used this basic structure (with a little wiggle room) to come up with the following:

Her lizard eyes, her coiled-up hair, her sharp-tongued pronouncements on his toys, his nap-times, his hot milk with sugared bread.

I decided I quite liked just the first part – her [name of uncommon animal] eyes, her [quirky adjective] hair – so I kept going just for fun (I didn’t use any of these):

Her angel-fish eyes, her dumpy hair
Her ferret eyes, her over-blown hair
Her Shetland pony eyes, her indecisive hair
His raccoon eyes, his ludicrous toupee
His weasel eyes, his cockamamie comb-over

and so on…

Once you’ve done a few, or several, circle the one that most appeals to you.

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From the Daily 5 Minute Writing Exercises:

January 25 “Emulation-Permutation”
Take a particularly vivid and rhythmic sentence or two from someone else’s book or story, and then exchange the verbs and/or adjectives and/or adverbs and/or whatever to make it your own. For example, while reading Conversations with Gore Vidal(edited by Richard Peabody and Lucinda Ebersole), I came across this vignette in the piece by Larry Kramer, “The Sadness of Gore Vidal”:

“He is very fat. His face is lined. His hair, all of which he still has, looks like its in the end stages of a coloring job. He says he has to worry about his health. He orders a steak.”

Here’s my emulation-permutation on that:

She is very thin. Her face is as smooth as a child’s. Her hair, which is sparse and frizzed, reminds me of what might be a fried mermaid’s. She says she is ravenous. She orders the sardine sandwich.

And another:

He is huge. His face appears to have been inflated. His hair has been slicked back with a strong-smelling lotion. He says he hasn’t time for more than a quick bite. He orders the brisket.

Do as many emulation-permutations as you can on this, or on another selection– preferably from your own favorite reading. No rules.

P.S. You can find the archive of workshop posts here.

Blast Past Easy: A Permutation Exercise with Clichés

“What Happened to the Dog?”
A Story About a Typewriter,
Actually, Typed on a 1967 Hermes 3000

Überly Fab Fashion Blogger Melanie Kobayashi’s “Bag and a Beret”
(Further Notes on Reading As a Writer)

Top Books Read 2020

Herewith my annual top books read and recommended list.

(1) Tie:
The Dawning Moon of the Mind: Unlocking the Pyramid Texts
by Susan Brind Morrow
and Atlas of a Lost World: Travels in Ice Age America
by Craig Childs

(2) Bluffing Texas Style: The Arsons, Forgeries and High-Stakes Poker Capers of Rare Book Dealer Johnny Jenkins
by Michael Vinson

(3) W.B. Yeats and the Learning of the Imagination
by Kathleen Raine

(4) Tie:
The Struggle for a Human Future: 5G, Augmented Reality and the Internet of Things
by Jeremy Naydler

and
Not So Fast: Thinking Twice About Technology
by Doug Hill

(5) The Future of the Ancient World: Essays on the History of Consciousness
by Jeremy Naydler

(6) The Gilded Chalet: Off-Piste in Literary Switzerland
by Padraig Rooney

(7) The Philosophers’ Secret Fire: A History of the Imagination
by Patrick Harpur

(8) The Miracle Machine
by Matthew Pennock

(9) My Autobiography
by Charles Chaplin

(10) Just Kids
by Patti Smith

(11) Bitten: The Secret History of Lyme Disease and Biological Weapons
by Kris Newby

(12) The Star Rover
by Jack London

(13) Ascent to Glory How One Hundred Years of Solitude Was Written and Became a Global Classic
by Álvaro Santana-Acuña

(14) White Dog
by Katherine Dunn

(15) The Secret Knowledge of Water: Discovering the Essence of the American Desert
by Craig Childs

(16) Global West, American Frontier: Travel, Empire and Exceptionalism from Manifest Destiny to the Great Depression
by David M. Wrobel

> See also the many excellent books by authors featured in this blog’s Q & As.

Top Books Read 2019

Top Books Read 2018

The Harrowingly Romantic Adventure 
of US Trade with Mexico in the 
Pre-Pre-Pre NAFTA Era: 
Notes on Susan Shelby Magoffin and 
Her Diary of 1846-1847, Down the Santa Fe Trail and Into Mexico

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

Newsletter & Cyberflanerie (Wild Dreaming & Tidying Edition)

It’s the fifth Monday of a month: time for the newsletter. Since my previous newsletter post, back in August, as usual, every Monday I have posted here to the Madam Mayo blog, with the second Monday of the month dedicated to the workshop and the fourth to a Q & A with a fellow writer.

November 23, 2020 – Q & A:
Q & A with Poet Matthew Pennock on The Miracle Machine

November 16, 2020
Hunkering Down, Plus From the Archives: A Review of 
“John Bankhead Magruder: A Military Reappraisal”

November 9, 2020 – WORKSHOP:
Using Rhythm and Sound to Add Energy and Meaning to Your Prose

November 2, 2020
A Glimpse of the New Literary Puzzlescape

October 26, 2020– Q & A:
Q & A with Timothy Heyman on the Incomparable Legacy of 
German-Mexican Novelist B. Traven

October 19, 2020
“Traven’s Triumph” by Timothy Heyman (Guest Blog)

October 12, 2020 – WORKSHOP:
Grokking Scansion: A Teensy (Albeit Painfully Tedious) Investment 
for a Megamungous Payoff in the Power of Your Prose

October 5, 2020
Roger Mansell (1935-2010) on Researching the History 
of the Mukden POW Camp

September 28, 2020 – Q & A:
How Are Some of the Most Accomplished Writers and Poets 
Coping with the Digital Revolution?

September 21, 2020
Poet, Writer, and Teacher Pat Schneider (1934-2020)

September 14, 2020 – WORKSHOP:
Duende and the Importance of Questioning ELB

September 7, 2020
Translation on the Menu, Plus from the Archives: 
“Café San Martín”– Reading Mexican Poet Agustín Cadena 
at the Café Passé in Tucson, Arizona

WORKSHOP

No workshops are scheduled for the rest of this year. As for next year… it might be interesting. Meanwhile, the PDF of the handout from “Poetic Techniques to Power Up Your Fiction and Narrative Nonfiction,” the workshop I gave for the Women Writing the West virtual conference last month, is still available (free) at this link.

PODCAST

This finds me still editing the Marfa Mondays Podcast #22, a wide-ranging interview with Bill Smith about the history of Sanderson, the Cactus Capital of Texas. Stay tuned. Meanwhile, you can listen in anytime to the other 21 Marfa Mondays podcasts here.

CYBERFLANERIE
(DREAMING & TIDYING EDITION)

Wingmen do Ball’s Pyramid

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Over at novelist Leslie Pietrzyk’s Work-in-Progress blog, a fascinating Q & A with Jennifer Howard about her book, Clutter: An Untidy History. I collect books on decluttering, LOL. Howard’s looks like an extra-crunchy one.

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Lynne Kelly’s TED Talk on memory. In the new year I’ll be blogging about more her jaw-dropping work on these ancient and surprisingly powerful technologies of the imaginal.

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Adriane Brown writes: “Many years ago, (2004, I believe), you taught a class at the Bethesda Writers Center called the Art and Craft of Writing. In that class, you had us write a 300 word exercise called ‘The Chef.’ You were very encouraging, and I continued to work on that piece over the years. It took a long time, but on July 30, 2020, it was published by Columbus Press as a 484 page novel titled The Café on Dream Street. It is currently for sale on Amazon, Barnes and Noble.com, and Indiebooks. You can also check out my website at www.adrianebrown.com .”

Adriane Brown, my warmest congratulations to you! Write on!

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On the litbiz front, Cory Doctorow says “We Need to Talk About Audible.”

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Graham Robb on his fabulous and important book, Ancient Paths— which has a different title in the US, The Discovery of Middle Earth: Mapping the Lost World of the Celts:

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On the literary travel writing front: Count me a mammoth fan of Padraig Rooney’s The Gilded Chalet, on literary Switzerland, which I’ll be nattering on about, possibly, in my top books read in 2020 list, to be posted next month. Check out Rooney’s essay on Annemarie Schwarzenbach in Iraq, 1934.

Also, check out the trailer for Werner Herzog’s Nomad, about the incomparable literary travel writer Bruce Chatwin:

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Jennifer Redmond on Reality versus Dreams; Sympathy versus Empathy.

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More Youtuberie: My favorite example du jour of “finding a niche.” The title is “Handy Spielen,” which I would translate from the German as “Playing with My Smartphone.” This is two German teachers teaching German to Taiwanese.

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Ja, I’ve got this German thing going on. By the way, here’s a fantastic BBC documentary on The Art of Germany.

For those who have an interest in the Mexican Revolution, as I do, an excellent conference on Jornadas Culturales de la Revolución en la Frontera: 

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And, somewhat related, PBS reports on the Whitney and Mexican muralism:

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Snap-crrrrackle-cackle: Sothis Medias on Data Sonification.

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Claudio Saunt’s West of the Revolution: An Uncommon History of 1776

Top 10+ Books Read 2018 

Lord Kingsborough’s Antiquities of Mexico

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My new book is Meteor

Q & A with Poet Matthew Pennock on “The Miracle Machine”

This blog posts on Mondays. Fourth Mondays of the month I devote to a Q & A with a fellow writer.

“Many poets find their voice and stick to a sort of signature style their entire careers. That has never appealed to me. I’d get bored chewing on the same poem for eternity like an indigestible hunk of gristle. My eclectic nature in regards to style and voice remains driven by my eclectic reading habits. I like to read all sorts of things.”—Matthew Pennock

Last year my book, Meteor, won the Gival Press Poetry Award and, as per the contest rules, I served as the judge for this year’s award. In an impressive batch of finalists Matthew Pennock’s The Miracle Machine was the shining standout. Here’s my official blurb:

“With a craftsman’s deftest precision and a thunder-powered imagination on DaVinci wings, the author recreates a lost world within a lost world that yet—when we look—shimmers with life within our world. Elegant, wondrously strange, The Miracle Machine is at once an elegy and a celebration, tick-tock of the tao.” 
—C.M. Mayo

Matthew Pennock

By the way, the judge for the Gival Poetry Award does not know the names nor anything about the poets who submit their manuscripts. I only found out that the author of The Miracle Machine was Matthew Pennock—whom I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting in person—when Gival Press’s editor, Robert Giron, let me know by email. Well, it turns out that, no surprise, I had selected the work of one very accomplished poet. Pennock received his MFA from Columbia University and his PhD from the University of Cincinnati. His poems have been widely published in literary magazines, including Gulf Coast, Denver Quarterly, Western Humanities Review, Guernica, New York Quarterly, and LIT, and his first book, Sudden Dog (Alice James Books, 2012), won the Kinereth-Gensler Award.

Dear writerly reader, this is one of the pleasures of hosting a blog: I get to talk to people I might not otherwise. Right now, of course, the covid makes most meetings impossible anyway. So here we are, and may you find Pennock’s answers as interesting as I did. And at the end, a treat: one of his poems.

C.M. MAYO: What was the spark— what inspired you to write these poems?

MATTHEW PENNOCK: With too many of my poems, television provides the spark. I had been watching “Mysteries at the Museum,” which is like the TV version of clickbait. They start an interesting little teaser story, and you have to wait through a commercial break (watching commercials, how novel!) to get to end, and then the process starts anew. I think I’ve seen every episode. 

Needless to say, I was lying there and this story came on the screen about an automaton in the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia. I have always had a fascination with automata, like the miracle monk Juanelo Turriano created for Charles V, or the fraudulent Mechanical Turk, but I had not heard of this one. I did a little more research and found it on the Franklin’s website. I was delighted by the breadth and quality of the drawings it could create, and the fact that it wrote poems was the clincher. I felt I had to write a poem about the mechanical boy that wrote poems. One poem became two, and then I thought, why not a short series? The more research I did for the poems took me to new places and new characters, and the project just kept growing until it became its own book.

C.M. MAYO: As you were writing, did you have in mind an ideal reader?

MATTHEW PENNOCK: Not particularly. When I wrote the poems that comprised my first collection, I definitely knew who I was writing to, but this time was different. I wrote these for myself. By that, I mean I used them to make sense of the world as I saw it. This book began during a heated election year, not the 2016 election but the 2012. Due to the Trump era, I think many people have idealized the entirety of the Obama administration, and seemed to have forgotten how nail-bitingly close the 2012 election was until a few weeks before the denouement. That combined with the subsequent four years of obstructionist politics by Boehner and McConnell gifted us what seemed like a weekly Armageddon of debt ceiling crises and fiscal cliffs. In 2008, for a brief teasing moment, there was so much hope and potential for us to finally start tackling the ills that had so long plagued our country: healthcare, climate change, perpetual war, racism, etc. To have it all come to so little felt truly devastating. Then, of course, came Trump. I finished this book about a year into his reign, so I think that’s why the whole thing has such an elegiac tone. 

I do want to make clear though that this book is not solely a political work, I think that reading of it exists, but that’s mainly because of the atmosphere in which it was scrawled, but I hope that’s only one dimension of it. I poured all the angst and joy I had into it, so the book is deeply personal for me, and delves into my struggle with so many other things: time, and its passage; love; the nature of reality, and so forth.    

C.M. MAYO: Now that it has been published, can you describe the ideal reader for this book as you see him or her now?

MATTHEW PENNOCK: No, I can’t. I’m sort of a firm believer in once my work has entered the world, it has ceased to be mine. I really don’t have much control over what happens to it, and I’m fine with that. Every person who takes the time to read it has a right to see what they want in it. I really do not want to speculate who would get the most from it, or who would understand it the best. I’d inevitably be wrong, and I would feel like a parent telling my child that they must be a lawyer because I was a lawyer, or something like that. 

C.M. MAYO: Which writers and poets have been the most important influences for you?

MATTHEW PENNOCK: I always struggle with this question. I don’t have any writers I return to over and over like a blessing of personal Olympians to whom I must pray. In creative writing, it’s hard to get very far before you’ve heard someone talking about “finding their voice.”  A famous poet who led a workshop I was in during grad school once told me I’d never write a successful poem because I was too shifty and couldn’t stick to a consistent voice. I didn’t like that. Many poets find their voice and stick to a sort of signature style their entire careers. That has never appealed to me. I’d get bored chewing on the same poem for eternity like an indigestible hunk of gristle. My eclectic nature in regards to style and voice remains driven by my eclectic reading habits. I like to read all sorts of things.

In addition to fiction and poetry, I love narrative non-fiction about anything: history, science, politics, etc., and I get something from almost everything I read, or watch for that matter. The beautiful thing about writing a book like The Miracle Machine was that I did a good amount of research, and it took me so many places. I took influence from history books about pre-modern medicine, alchemy and mysticism; documentaries/movies like Ken Burn’s The Civil War, and Martin Scorsese’s Gangs of New York; Novels like Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell; and still other things like Offenbach’s opera The Tales of Hoffman. I studied epic poetry and other long form works of poetry. Too many to list really, A few favorites: The Ring and the Book, by Robert Browning, Eugene Onegin, by Alexander Pushkin, Orlando Furioso by Ludovico Ariosto, and of course, The Dream Songs, by John Berryman. 

C.M. MAYO: Which writers are you reading now? 

MATTHEW PENNOCK: Books that I physically have a book mark in right now an am switching between: The Path between the Seas, by David McCullough, Snake, by Erica Wright, Dream of the Unified Field, by Jorie Graham, and I just finished Number 9 Dream, by David Mitchell and Toy Medium: Materialism and the Modern Lyric, by Daniel Tiffany, which was recommended to me by the great Timothy Donnelly after he blurbed my book.  

C.M. MAYO: How has the Digital Revolution affected your writing? Specifically, has it become more challenging to stay focused with the siren calls of email, texting, blogs, online newspapers and magazines, social media, and such? If so, do you have some tips and tricks you might be able to share? 

MATTHEW PENNOCK: I am not particularly prolific. I do not write every day, and I’m often distracted by all the shows I can stream, and podcasts I can listen to. Social media has never really appealed to me, so I am okay there, but other than that, someone needs to give me some tips about how to get a little more done.

C.M. MAYO: Another question apropos of the Digital Revolution. As a poet, at what point were you working on paper? Was working on paper necessary for you or problematic?

MATTHEW PENNOCK: I kept a romantic attachment to paper for a little while, but once we got into the late aughts, and I made the permanent switch from having a home desktop to having a laptop I could carry around, writing directly on the computer became way too convenient. I can’t imagine going back to paper now. After all, the internet makes looking stuff up as you write so much easier. You never know when you might need to know an obscure fact about the health of Lake Champlain’s ecosystem, or whatnot. 

C.M. MAYO: For those looking to publish, what would be your most hard-earned piece of advice?

MATTHEW PENNOCK: I don’t think I have to tell anyone that getting published is hard, the odds are long and the expense is hard to justify. I really dislike it when people try to gloss over that fact, and paint a rosy picture of the contest model. I spent nine years with Alice James Books, six of those years as Chair of the Editorial Board, and during that time, I saw around a thousand manuscripts for various contests. The best advice I can give is be adaptable, never stop looking for ways to improve your book. I saw manuscripts reappear unchanged year after year, while others would continuously change and improve. Those in the latter category would eventually break through, if not with us, then elsewhere. Good work will find a home, but sometimes, it takes longer than any of us want.   

C.M. MAYO: What important piece of advice would you give yourself if you could travel back in time ten years?

MATTHEW PENNOCK: Forget about academia, go find something else to do to earn your rent.

C.M. MAYO: What’s next for you?

MATTHEW PENNOCK: I’ve been working on a manuscript for a novel. It involves an awful lot of research about foxes. 

BROADWAY & ANN
by Matthew Pennock
From The Miracle Machine (Gival Press, 2020)

Curiosity wins in the underground—

Tunnels serpentine, electricity,
occasional unnatural liquid—

Too much to bear in my so-long city.

At first surface, I keep in shadow, but people

throng with such grace,
a starling’s murmur twisting

at the behest of light.
Chaotic coordination,
I cannot help but join 

and walk openly among them. 

Focused on their gadgets,
no one notices just another synthetic boy
in his own 19th century,

enthralled by every last one of them:

their hair of colors and lengths; skin dappled, smooth, 
or freckled; every eye, liquid and light.

The Chinese believe when a tiger dies,
her eyes sink into the earth 
to become amber,

but death is not necessary for us.
We are already compressed light—

Infinite procession to the mouth 
of a hulking bridge.

Then absence becomes 

a poignant delicatessen, filled 
with a few unattended bottles, 
mustard hardening in the window.

No horses, banners, wood, 
No trace—she, me, never here.

*

Q & A with Timothy Heyman on the Incomparable Legacy 
of German-Mexican Novelist B. Traven

Q & A with Diana Anhalt on Her Poetry Collection Walking Backward

Top 13 Trailers for Movies with Extra-Astral Texiness

Hunkering Down, Plus From the Archives: A Review of Thomas M. Settles’ “John Bankhead Magruder: A Military Reappraisal”

My writing assistants advise me that winter is coming. It’s chicken soup time, they say, pumpkin time, cozy all the time– except when it’s time for the walk!

This finds us still working on the next Marfa Mondays podcast. I’m almost finished transcribing a fascinating 4 hour interview recorded in the Cactus Capital of Texas, which I’ll be editing down to a listenable 45 minutes (or thereabouts). Stay tuned. Meanwhile, with the peculiarities of the past in mind, herewith, a book review from the archive:

Thomas M. Settles’
John Bankhead Magruder:
A Military Reappraisal

Originally published on this blog and my Maximilian-Carlota Research Blog
(sharing research on Mexico’s Second Empire / French Intervention),
February 15, 2011

As the subtitle indicates, most of Thomas M. Settles’ splendid biography of John Bankhead Magruder (1807 – 1871) is dedicated to a detailed examination of his role in the U.S. Civil War, specifically, his audacious if nonetheless inevitably doomed defense of Richmond, and later, Galveston. Though this part of the narrative does not have direct bearing on Mexican history, it informs the portrait of an unusually flamboyant Confederate who, in defeat, looked south to a future in Maximilian’s Mexican Empire.

Based on three decades of archival research, this biography must have been a titanic task, for Magruder left no diary and many of his most important papers were lost in a San Francisco fire. Worse, he was much maligned during his lifetime, victim of both malicious gossip from his Confederate rivals and less than sympathetic Federals– just the sort of thing to send a biographer down blind alleys. In addition, there were misunderstandings, as when earlier historians, in recounting what appeared to be a less-than honorable leave-taking from Washington DC at the start of the Civil War, confounded Magruder with a relative.

General John Bankhead Magruder was, as Settles convincingly argues– backing every point with what sometimes seems a forest of footnotes– a Civil War general whose tactical ingenuity and tenacity are deserving of far greater respect than he has been accorded. Most of the book details his early military career, from West Point to a garrison duty and recruiting at various army posts from the Carolinas to Maine, until, with the invasion of Mexico in the late 1840s, his fortuntes took a radical turn. Along with many of the men who would later play major roles in the U.S. Civil War– Grant, Lee, and McClellan, among them– Magruder distinguished himself in several major battles against the Mexicans. (Magruder’s artillery was, in fact, the first to fire upon Chapultepec Castle.) Following the U.S.-Mexican War, Magruder served in California, where in Los Angeles, briefly, he ran a saloon. 

He was on a visit to Europe when recalled to Washington DC in 1861, only a month before his native state of Virginia seceded. He had not wanted to leave the U.S. Army, but as “he could not fight against his own people,” he resigned, calling it “the most unhappy moment of my life.” He walked across the Potomac, offered his services to the Confederacy and, in short order, was reporting to Robert E. Lee.

Settle’s treatment of Magruder’s return to Mexico in 1865, in the final chapter, “Postwar Odyssey,” is a relatively brief one; nonetheless, it is an important contribution to understanding the nature and role of the ex-Confederates in Maximilian’s government.

At the end of the U.S. Civil War, General Magruder was one of several thousand ex-Confederates who pulled up stakes for Mexico. In 1865 the French Imperial Army, considered the greatest in the world, occupied most, if not all of Mexican territory, while the ex Archduke of Austria, Maximilian, a direct descendant of the King of Spain during the Conquest, reigned as Emperor. Though by the late summer and fall of 1865, when the ex-Confederates began arriving en masse, the French occupation was beginning to fray at the edges, Maximilian and his consort, Carlota, still presided over a court and elaborate palace balls and other festivities that were, to Americans at that time, considered the height of glamor. In the words of journalist William V. Wells, this was the “high noon” of the empire, when it was impossible for many to even imagine the catastrophe that would, in only a matter of months, befall the “cactus throne.”

Some ex-Confederates came to Mexico because they could not bear living in a defeated South, others, because they had expected to participate in a dynamic plantation economy under the French-backed Maximilian (who, to entice the ex-Confederate colonists, proclaimed slavery legal in Mexico). But others, such as General Magruder, simply felt pushed out. As Settles writes:

“It must have been extremely difficult for so proud a man as John Bankhead Magruder to have signed the articles surrendering the Trans-Mississippi Department. But when the Federals began arresting and imprisoning high Confederate officials, he resolutely refused to submit to such personal humiliation. He was not eligible for the amnesty proclaimed by President Lincoln on December 8, 1863, or that proclaimed by Andrew Johnson on May 29, 1865”

Although I had spent several years researching Mexico’s Second Empire under Maximilian for my novel, The Last Prince of the Mexican Empire, until recently, I was flummoxed as to the background of the author of the exceedingly rare English language memoir, Sketches of the Last Year of the Empire, Henry R. Magruder. It turns out he was the son of General John Bankhead Magruder and I now know, from Settles’ biography, that father and son did not arrive in Mexico via the same route. General Magruder came down overland from Houston with General Shelby, while his wife, son Henry, and unmarried daughter, Kate Elizabeth, arrived via Veracruz, for they had come from Florence, Italy, where they had been residing for some years.

As Settles explains:

“[B]ecause of the hardships of travel, uncomfortable living conditions, and extremes of climate found in the remote locales where magruder was stationed during his military career, [Mrs Magruder] found it more practical to live and raise her children in the comforts of Baltimore, where she could stay closer to family business interests. She remained there until 1850 when, as a consequence of [daughter] Isabella’s ill health, she took her children to Europe. Mrs Magruder had relatives in Germany, but she moved to Italy, living briefly in Rome, then in Florence.”

From Texas, not yet reunited with his family, Magruder headed straight down to Monterrey and then to Mexico City, arriving in the summer of 1865.

Writes Settles:

“Magruder checked into a room on the first floor of the fashionable Iturbide Hotel, and there he received several distinguished visitors, including Matthew Fontaine Maury and his old friend Marshal Francois-Achille Bazaine, now in command of the imperial forces in Mexico. He also met with the British minister to Mexico, Sir Peter Campbell Scarlett, whose nephew, Lord Abinger, had married Magruder’s niece, Helen Magruder, in Montreal several years earlier.”

It appeared Magruder felt as at home as an American could be in Mexico City. He bought himself a new wardrobe, “‘a cut-a-way suit of salt and pepper color, with a tall dove-colored hat and patent leather boots,’ and then went to the palace of Montezuma [the Imperial Palace], which Scott’s army had victoriously occupied eighteen years earlier.” 

Soon after a successful interview with Maximilian and Carlota, Magruder, now a naturalized Mexican citizen, was appointed head of Maximilian’s Land Office of Colonization. The idea was to establish colonies along the main route inland from Veracruz to Mexico City, on land Juarez (under the Republic) had expropriated from the Church. 

Settles covers the rapid collapse of the scheme along with Maximilian’s government, and Magruder’s return to the U.S. In 1867– surprisingly, for memories of the Civil War remained fresh— he attempted to set up a law office in New York City. His family had returned to Italy, but he remained in the U.S. to work the lecture circuit with a crowd-pleasing talk on Maximilian and Carlota. He was on that tour when, in a Houston hotel in 1871 he died of a stroke. 

In sum, this is an important addition to the bibliography on Confederates in Mexico, and crucial reading for anyone who studies the U.S. Civil War, the U.S.-Mexico War, and / or Mexico’s Second Empire. Highly recommended.

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

Peyote and the Perfect You

A Review of Patrick Dearen’s 
Bitter Waters: The Struggles of the Pecos River

Using Rhythm and Sound to Add Energy and Meaning to Your Prose

This blog posts on Mondays. Second Mondays of the month I devote to my writing workshop students and anyone else interested in creative writing. Welcome!

> For the archive of workshop posts click here.

The following examples of musical writing I took from what I had handy at the moment, e.g., a magazine article, a newspaper movie review, however, for the most part, from old favorites on my bookshelves. Notice how the rhythms and sounds provide energy and meaning.

There he is, in all his glory, Brad Pitt, that beautiful, chiseled chunk of celebrity manhood. You want him? Go see “Fight Club.” You want action, muscle, and atmosphere? You want boys bashing boys in bloody, living color? “Fight Club” is your flick, dude.
—Desson Howe, The Washington Post. 10/1999

The first technique Howe uses here is the rise with questions, then a contrasting downward thrust with commands or assertions:

You want him? Go see “Fight Club.”
You want boys bashing boys in bloody, living color? “Fight Club” is your flick, dude.

Howe also uses poetic alliteration— repeating sounds in adjacent or nearby words:

Brad Pitt, that beautiful, chiseled chunk
action, muscle, and atmosphere
boys bashing boys in bloody
“Fight Club” is your flick


Howe also uses poetic repetition:

you want.. you want… you want

Finally, he plugs in a diction drop:

your flick, dude

#

I could give many excellent reasons for my dislike of large dinner-parties, soirées, crushes, routes, conversazioni and balls.
—Aldous Huxley, “The Traveller’s-Eye View”

Here Huxley also uses poetic listing, made poetic in part by his use of alliteration (crushes… conversazioni).

#

Philadelphia, I was told in New York, was so slow that it was safe for people to fall out windows—they just wafted down like gossamer…
—P. Gibbs, People of Destiny, 1920

Brilliant use of the arrangement of stressed and unstressed syllables in this one. For more about that, see my post on Grokking Scansion.

#

Further fun examples:

We knew you were wondering, and the answer is no. Mohair is not the hair of the mo. 
—Jonathan Raush, “The Golden Fleece”

#

No typos in this one, by the way (not that I could find anyway); this is how Armstrong wrote it:

We don’t think that we could be more relaxed and have better neighbors any place else. So we stay put After all— we have’ a very lovely home. The house may not be the nicest looking front. But when one visit the Interior of the Armstrong’s home they’ see a whole lot of comfort, happiness + the nicest things. Such as that Wall to Wall Bed— a Bath Room with Mirrors Everywhere‘ Since we are Disciples to Laxatives. A Garage with a magic up + down Gate to it. And of course our Birthmark Car‘ a Cadillac’ (Yea). The Kids in our Block just thrill when they see our garage gate up, and our fine Cadillac ooze on out. They just rejoice and say, “Hi—Louis + Lucille— your car is so beautiful coming out of that rise up gate,” which knocks me out.
—Louis Armstrong, In His Own Words 

Tony Morrison said, “The function of freedom is to free someone else,” and if you are no longer wracked or in bondage to a person or a way of life, tell your story. Risk freeing someone else. Not everyone will be glad that you did. Members of your family and other critics may wish you had kept your secrets. Oh, well, what are you going to do? Get it all down. Let it pour out of you onto the page. Write an incredibly shitty, self-indulgent, whiney, mewling first draft. Then take out as many of the excesses as you can.”
—Anne Lammott, Bird by Bird

I stepped onto the hot tarmac of Tan Son Nhut air base to the ear-splitting howl of jet fighters. These jets had an aura of aggression, with their pointed noses painted as sharks hurtling down the runway, bombs tucked under wings, afterburners aglow. The energy of the war was awesome.
—Jon Swain, River of Time

…hold on with a bull-dog grip and chew and choke as much as possible
— President Lincoln to General U.S. Grant

“When somebody threatens me,” he says, “I usually tell them to pack a picnic and stand in line.”
— Mikey Weinstein quoted in “Marching As to War” by Alan Cooperman, Washington Post

There is about our house a need… We need someone who’s afraid of frogs. We need someone to cry when I get mad, not argue. We need a little one who can kiss without leaving egg or jam or gum. We need a girl.
—George H. Bush, letter to his mother, 1953

#

What are your favorite books? I would venture to suggest that those, the books you have already read and most truly enjoyed, are going to be your best teachers. I’m betting that, as you comb through them, abundant examples of musical writing will be easy to find.

What are your favorite books? I would venture to suggest that those, the books you have already read and most truly enjoyed, are going to be your best teachers.

P.S. To really make this sink into your writing mind, I would suggest that you try marking the stressed and unstressed syllables, and also identifying some of the author’s poetic techniques.

Grokking Scansion:
A Teensy (Albeit Painfully Tedious)
Investment for a Megamungous Payoff
in the Power of Your Prose

Using Imagery (the “Metaphor Stuff”)

Five Techniques for a Journey to Einfühlung

A Glimpse of the New Literary Digital Puzzlescape

My writing assistant, Washi, bright and shiny in this rectangular image. Not yet ready for Hollywood Squares!

Thanks to the pandemic, I’ve just finished up with two virtual conferences, the American Literary Translators Association’s, which was to have been held in Tuscon, Arizona and went to Crowdcast, and Women Writing the West, slated for Colorado Springs, which ended up on Zoom. Kudos to all the many volunteers who made these conference conversions-to-virtual possible, and on relatively short notice! There was a learning curve, indeed! I did my nitpicks on their respective post-conference surveys, but in all, I’d call both conferences well done, well worthwhile to have participated in, and I am sincerely grateful.

For the American Literary Translators Association I read an excerpt from my translation of Mexican writer Rose Mary Salum’s short story “The Aunt,” and for Women Writing the West I gave a break-out workshop on poetic technique for fiction and narrative nonfiction. I also pitched a bunch of agents and editors, something I always find worthwhile for one reason or another (that would be another blog post). And there were cornucopias of readings and panels to Zoom in on. I guess that’s a new use of that verb.

Will I participate in another virtual writers conference? You betcha. I’m already planning on the Biographers International virtual conference scheduled for spring 2021. UPDATE Jan 2022: Meh.

It was weird, though. And frankly, the benefit of attending a conference isn’t quite so much in the quality of the panels, workshops, and readings— valuable and appealing as those may be— so much as it is the chance to get together with friends and colleagues old and new whether in scheduled meetings or serendipitous chats over coffee during the breaks, or say, in the evening, at a reading. For me conferences are about the people, and having to view those people boxed in Hollywood-Squares-style on a screen, and interact via computer program, and all while being recorded… Ick.

On the other hand, a real world conference can be far more expensive, time consuming, and exhausting—as you might guess if you read my report on AWP 2019. But I think that those massive conferences have had their Chicxulub. Post-corona, I wouldn’t be surprised to see AWP and some others, such as ALTA and Women Writing the West, return to their real world versions, however, on a much more modest and with tandem cheaper virtual options on offer—the latter at once appealing to new groups of participants and cannibalizing demand for the former. Many may remain virtual conferences permanently.

I took two lessons from these two recent virtual conferences, both surprising to me.

First, it’s really nasty, event after event, day after day, having to look at people’s grayish and distorted faces, swaths of oddly tilted ceilings, peculiarly placed pictures, and random household clutter. Ergo, turn the lights on, and clean the joint up! Get the camera elevated enough to avoid pointing at the ceiling (this can be accomplished by sitting the laptop on top of a fat book), and sit back a ways, so your face looks more natural. Thank you.

Second, email follow-up, always vital to making a conference worthwhile, has become even moreso.

The saddest, though unsurprising, thing to me about these virtual conferences was the fate of the book fair. Both conferences offered a virtual bookstore—at a click from each conference’s online brochure, the books of keynote speakers, award winners, panelists, could be found for sale online. But I missed both of them. By Jove, I already spend too much time sitting in front of a screen! Back when these conferences were held in the real world, however, strolling and browsing the conference book fair was always a joy.

Dear writerly reader, these virtual conferences may be here to stay, they do have some attractions and important benefits, and of course I would agree that, as I’ve heard others say many a time in recent months, they are “better than nothing.” I do not consider them an unalloyed “development,” however, for in turning us into disembodied images, and herding these images into the little boxes dictated by software programs, they seriously impoverish us as human beings.

I am ever-haunted by E. M. Forster’s “The Machine Stops.”

Notes on Stephen L. Talbott’s The Future Does Not Compute

The Book As Thoughtform, the Book As Object: 
A Book Rescued, a Book Attacked, and 
Katherine Dunn’s Beautiful Book White Dog Arrives

Waaaay Out to the Big Bend of Far West Texas, 
and a Note on El Paso’s Elroy Bode

Q & A with Timothy Heyman on the Incomparable Legacy of the German-Mexican Novelist B. Traven

This blog posts on Mondays. Fourth Mondays of the month I devote to a Q & A with a fellow writer.

“Traven hid his identity for many reasons, and became famous for the mystery of his identity… But people were mainly interested in his identity because of the quality of his works. He wrote 15 books and innumerable short stories, has sold more than 30 million books in more than 30 languages in more than 500 editions.” 
—Timothy Heyman

Last Monday this blog posted “Traven’s Triumph,” the English original of Timothy Heyman’s essay which was first published in Spanish in Mexico’s leading literary magazine, Letras Libres, in 2019, the 50th anniversary of Traven’s death. This week follows up with a Q & A with Heyman, who lives in Mexico City, where he co-administers the B. Traven literary archive together with his wife, B. Traven’s stepdaughter, Malú Montes de Oca de Heyman.

Official bio: Timothy Heyman is co-manager of the B. Traven Estate with his wife Malú Montes de Oca Luján de Heyman, stepdaughter of B. Traven. He has degrees from Oxford (in Greek and Roman language, literature, philosophy and history, with a specialization in indo-european philology) and from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (in Management, with a specialization in finance and information technology). In 2013 Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II appointed him Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire(CBE) for his contributions to philanthropic and financial relations between the United Kingdom and Mexico.

Visit the official B. Traven website at www.btraven.com

Tim Heyman, co-manager with his wife Malú Montes de Oca de Heyman of the B. Traven Estate, delivers his keynote speech about B. Traven’s origins. For more about this historic 2019 conference at the Mexican Embassy in Berlin, click here. Photo by C.M. Mayo.

C.M. MAYO: Which is the first of the many works by Traven that you read, and what did you think of it?

TIMOTHY HEYMAN: The first Traven work I read was The Treasure of the Sierra Madre just after marrying Malú, his stepdaughter, in 1981. The main reason was that I had heard of it. I had seen the movie and enjoyed it, but knew nothing about Traven’s biography, partly because at that time there were no satisfactory biographies in English. The only good one, by Karl Guthke, was published in English in 1991, 22 years after Traven’s death in 1969.  My misty watercoloured memory is that it was a well told cowboy tale with a Chaucerian touch. As a still somewhat bookish Englishman, I had never read a Western novel, but only seen Western movies. I could not help comparing it with Chaucer’s “Pardoner’s Tale,” and considered it very well constructed with a very ingenious final twist, in many ways more interesting than Chaucer. 

C.M. MAYO: Which is your favorite of all the Traven novels, and why?

TIMOTHY HEYMAN: This is a very difficult question for me, owing to my personal involvement. Malú lived with Traven from an early age, and her mother Rosa Elena Luján (Chelena) was his only wife (she married Traven in 1957, having begun to work as his translator in 1953).  I have therefore been steeped in Traven’s life and work for a long time. More recently, when there was the first ever Traven exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in Mexico City in 2016,  I understood better the dimension of his life and work (looking at the show as an outsider). I became even more interested in him and realized I was in a unique position to study him, both because I know something about German culture (including the language) and because I have privileged access to his Estate.  

Like many, I was intrigued by the “mystery” and began by piecing together his life from his work, and his work from his life. I have come up with what might be considered an original synthesis of proofs of the identity he revealed to Esperanza Lopez Mateos, his translator, and the cousin of his best friend in Mexico, the cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa. I believe that there is strong evidence of Figueroa’s revelation that he was Moritz Rathenau, the illegitimate son of Emil Rathenau (1838-1915), one of the most important businessmen during the era of Kaiser Wilhelm.  Rathenau founded the first and most important electricity conglomerate, AEG, in Germany in 1888. His legitimate son, Walther Rathenau (1867-1922) succeeded him as head of AEG and became Foreign Minister of Germany in 1922, the most successful Jew in German political history, until his assassination in June of that year by a group of antisemitic far right activists, a seminal event that was considered the beginning of the Holocaust in Germany. This provenance would make Traven a member of the one of the most important families in Germany and could also shed important light on his work.

Traven hid his identity for many reasons, and became famous for the mystery of his identity, all of which I analyze in an article that was published in Letras Libres, a leading Mexican literary magazine, in 2019 to commemorate the 50thanniversary of his death in 1969. But people were mainly interested in his identity because of the quality of his works. He wrote 15 books and innumerable short stories, has sold more than 30 million books in more than 30 languages in more than 500 editions.  More than 8 novels have been turned into movies or TV series, mainly in three languages, English, German and Spanish. 

As I have explored his life and work more deeply, I have come to the conclusion that Traven is a genius. Extraordinarily versatile in word and deed, he was larger than life, and did not only deal with different subjects, but different genres, beginning with short stories, moving to novels, and then in the latter part of his life to the relatively new art form of the cinema, which was emerging in Germany in the 1920s when he was still living there. Not coincidentally, the epicenter of quality cinema transferred from Berlin to Hollywood, dominated by Central European emigrés, in the early 1930s, at a time when he was living not too far away in Mexico.

In response to your original question, if we think of creative people who we call “geniuses” it becomes difficult to choose a favorite. What is your favorite work by Shakespeare, Rembrandt, Mozart, Beethoven, or Picasso? In any art form, most geniuses’ work is divided either by genre or by period. In the case of Shakespeare, therefore, it might be more sensible to ask which is your favorite comedy, tragedy or sonnet. In the case of painters or composers, maybe we should ask which period you prefer, Beethoven’s first two symphonies (his first period), his middle symphonies (3 to 8), or his last, glorious one (9): idem for Mozart, or Picasso.

Traven is different from the geniuses I have mentioned above in terms of his development in time and space. When he was Ret Marut in Germany (1882-1923), he was an actor, director, and sometime writer of short stories, plays and novels, then became a political activist and producer of an anarchist magazine. That was temporally almost exactly the first half of his life. When he became B. Traven (1924-1969), and burst on to the literary scene in Germany, he was a fully-fledged writer, having been shocked into fusing his personal experience with his pent-up literary genius.

I consider the best (i.e., my favorite) works by B. Traven to be The Death Ship (published 1926), The Cotton Pickers (1926), The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, and the six books of the Mahogany cycle (1930-1940).

The Death Ship is clearly autobiographical and tracks his voyage from Germany to Mexico. But it elevates the personal story to a discussion of identity in the modern world: the lack of the papers necessary to move from one country to another, the power of the state over the individual through petty bureaucracy, the plight of migrants who are victims of both bureaucrats and employers, the general theme of exploitation of the lower classes by unscrupulous employers. The reality and metaphor of the merchant marine is an extreme example of the riskiness of life and employment, as the hero is subject to the arbitrariness not only of countries and companies, but also of the climate. The book has a hero, Gerald Gales (beginning the constant use of the storm metaphor) and a plot, the hero’s journey to a destination, which is made deliberately ambiguous. The narration is spiced with humor, satire and savage criticism of the way the world is organized. Although in the end, apparently, the protagonist survives an extraordinary shipwreck, described in tremendous, realistic detail in the book’s climax, through its overall theme and tone, it could be considered a tragedy.

The Cotton Pickers is also autobiographical, about what happens to the hero when he arrives in Mexico. A hobo, a vagabond, he tries his hand at everything, whatever he can, in and around the town of Tampico, a magnet for many people from around the world because of its oil boom.  The book describes how he tries five jobs: cotton picker, oilfield roustabout, cattle driver, baker and waiter. The skills required for each job are described in minute detail as is the socioeconomic reality of each job and the worker’s relationship with his boss, who typically exploits him. The humor, satire and social criticism remain, but because of the subtle irony of its ending this book could be considered a comedy.

Taking the two books together, if The Death Ship is Traven’s Iliad, The Cotton Pickers is his Odyssey

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, on rereading, is more than a Western novel with a Chaucerian twist. It is an extension of The Cotton Pickers, with a vagabond hero, not autobiographical, but also set initially in Tampico. Having tried everything, he decides on gold prospecting, forms a group of three to start a business (a mine) in the middle of nowhere. Fraught with peril due to inclement conditions and the ubiquity of Mexican bandidos, the group find the gold, mine it, hide their trove, bring it down from the mountain in spite of the bandits, then lose everything. A classic novel, it became a classic movie.

The six Mahogany books are not autobiographical. They describe with extraordinary empathy the conditions in and around the Monterías, logging camps, in the state of Chiapas, where Traven (having been on an expedition to Chiapas in 1926) returned to the southernmost state of Mexico and spent most of his time there in the 1930s. Before reading them, it might seem difficult to imagine how Traven could write 6 books, apparently on the same subject: the exploitation of Indian workers in the Monterias (Carreta; Government; March to the Montería; Trozas; Rebellion of the Hanged; General from the Jungle). But each book focuses on a different aspect, normally with a different hero or heroine, although there is some overlap.  Carreta on the oxcart drivers and on how they drive the oxcarts to the Monteria, Government on how the state, the towns, and the monterias are managed and how the workers are treated, March to the Monteria on how and why workers are recruited and how they are literally driven to the Monterias, Trozas on how the logs are moved from the monterias to the river, then down the river to their port of embarkation to be taken to world markets, Rebellion of the Hanged on how the workers eventually get their revenge on their bosses, and General from the Jungle on how they march back to civilization led by a natural general from among their number and defeat their bosses’ enablers, taking over haciendas and towns. Meanwhile, there are links through several characters between the different books, arriving at a climax with the last two books when the workers take over. The series forms an epic masterpiece.

C.M. MAYO: Which do you think is Traven’s most underappreciated novel?

TIMOTHY HEYMAN: The Cotton Pickers, for the reasons implicitly provided in the previous section.

C.M. MAYO: Have there been any notable and particular challenges in bringing his works from German into English? (Did he write all of his novels originally in German?)

TIMOTHY HEYMAN: Traven originally wrote his novels in German, for the German public. His first novel, The Cotton Pickers (Der Wobbly in German), was originally serialized in Vorwärts, the newspaper of the German Social Democratic Party (SPD) in 1925. It was published the following year 1926 as a book, as was The Death Ship by the Büchergilder Gutenberg. Büchergilder was a publishing house and book club set up in August 1924 by the Educational Society of German Book Printers (Bildungsverband der deutschen Buchdrucker). In the words of Guthke his biographer, “Büchergilde not only ‘made’ Traven – Traven also made the Büchergilde.” Büchergilde gained its greatest visibility in the literary world as the publisher of B. Traven. By the end of the 1920s 100,000 copies of The Death Ship were in print and by 1936 the total circulation of Traven’s works in German alone was half a million, covering the German, Austrian and Swiss markets. This was considered an extraordinary success, not least because Traven’s books were not typical “adventure” stories but had social and political content.

When Hitler came to power in 1933, the German market dried up, because Traven’s books were banned and Büchergilder was forced to emigrate to Switzerland. Traven had already considered the US in 1929 and signed a deal with Doubleday for the rights to the US and British markets not only for the books but also significantly for film and theater. After various disagreements, mainly about marketing strategy where he preferred anonymity and did not want to be “hawked like cigarettes, car tires, toilet soap, toothpaste, and the latest mattresses,” he bought back the rights from Doubleday. Then, in 1933, he was discovered by Alfred A. Knopf and reached an agreement with him to publish his books in English. There is an extraordinary exchange of letters between Knopf and Traven in our archive which demonstrates that Traven was not an easy author to deal with, as he set the conditions of their collaboration.

Traven translated his own books into English. He was lucky to have Bernard Smith as his skilled and sympathetic editor at Knopf, and Traven gave Knopf permission that Smith could edit his books if grammatical, syntactic or orthographic changes had to be made. Smith considered the text so Germanic that he had to “treat” at least 25 percent of the text. Meanwhile, Traven in order to preserve his anonymity (as not German) insisted that his books be stated as being “the English originals.” Meanwhile it is clear from the English texts that Traven’s mother tongue was not English, although he spoke it well, adding strength to my view that his mother was a native English speaker (Gabriel Figueroa stated that his biological mother was an Irish actress, Helen Mareck).

C.M. MAYO: The new editions of B. Travens’ novels just out with Farrar, Straus & Giroux, did these involve new translations from the German? Can you talk about this in any detail?

TIMOTHY HEYMAN: Two books were recently published as ebooks by Farrar Straus this July 2020, the first ever ebooks in English, as part of our agreement to make all his works available in English as ebooks over the next 18 months: The Treasure of the Sierra Madre and Aslan Norval, his last novel (1960). Treasure was also published as a Picador paperback. Treasure is the original Traven translation edited by Smith for Knopf in the 1930s. We are excited that Farrar Straus decided, as part of the package, to publish Aslan for the first time ever in English, fifty years after Traven’s death: imagine “discovering” today an unpublished novel by George Orwell, or Ernest Hemingway! It was translated by Anabel Aliaga-Buchenau, Professor of German at the University of North Carolina.

C.M. MAYO: Of all Traven’s novels, which one do you think best stands the test of time– and has the chance to be read into the deep future?

TIMOTHY HEYMAN: The novels which I mention (above) as my favorites. 

C.M. MAYO: Do you think Aslan Norval will stand the test of time?

TIMOTHY HEYMAN: The book is unlike any of the other novels written by Traven. It is neither about the oppressed or unemployed white men, as the case with Cotton Pickers, Death Ship and Treasure (written in the 1920s), or the Mahogany cycle about oppressed indigenous people in Southern Mexico (written in the 1930s). It is about a young, rich, American girl in her twenties with experience in Hollywood (married to an older man), who wants to build a canal across the United States and hires an engineer, a Korean War veteran, to help her.  The ambiance is very US 1950s, when Traven wrote the book and it is a wry satirical commentary on US capitalism, politics and foreign policy at the time. It is a 50s period piece, somewhere between a Cary Grant comedy, and a film noir. Traven became friendly with Bogart on the set of Treasure in 1947 and, quite possibly, might have imagined casting his wife Lauren Bacall (who was also on the set) in an Aslan movie. I enjoyed it and found it particularly interesting as it is autobiographical and reminiscent of Traven’s first unpublished book, The Torch of the Prince written in German under his earlier pseudonym Ret Marut, about an engineer who wants to build a railway in Vietnam, set in 1900, the time when Marut travelled in the Far East. Coming back to your original question, 3 months after publication, it is probably too early to say whether it will stand the test of time among the reading public in general.

C.M. MAYO: Having handled his vast correspondence, what is your sense of Traven as a creative entrepreneur?

TIMOTHY HEYMAN: Traven was an entrepreneur in many ways. In Germany, he first appears under the name of Ret Marut as an actor, based mainly around Cologne and Düsseldorf but also with a travelling theater company. He also appears to have done some directing. When he settled in Düsseldorf with an important theater company from 1913 to 1915, he was closely involved in the formation of a theater school. At the museum of that theater I personally examined the prospectus he wrote for the school, specifying the school’s curriculum, what was required of the teachers, and who could be the donors. He was clearly involved in the design of the cover of the prospectus. After the beginning of WWI, he moved in 1915 from Düsseldorf to Munich, and became more involved in political activism, having become a declared anarchist. He started an anarchist magazine Der Ziegelbrenner which he started publishing from his Munich apartment in Clemensstrasse 84 in 1917. Following his escape from the death sentence in Munich on May 1, 1919, he continued publishing it when he went underground until 1921. As publisher, he was responsible not only for the content which he wrote entirely himself, but also for design, printing, distribution and finance.

When Traven arrived in Mexico in 1924, he earned a living in the ways described in The Cotton Pickers. Meanwhile, he already began to write short stories, some of which were published in Vorwärts before the serialization of The Cotton Pickers. After establishing his publishing relationship with Büchergilder in 1925, he is continually interested in the sales of the books and even initiates methods of interesting his readers in Mexico, by offering prizes consisting of Mexican artefacts such as necklaces and dolls, which he mentions in his letters to the publishers. We have some of these objects in the Traven archive.

The Doubleday deal struck in 1929 (mentioned above) shows that Traven was already careful not only to grant literary rights, but also rights to movie and theater versions. In his correspondence during the 1930s interest is shown in adapting his works to these media. When war broke out in Europe in 1939, Traven realized that he could not rely only on the US market. Coincidentally he was approached by Esperanza Lopez Mateos, who had read one of his books in English, and wanted to translate him into Spanish. His initial misgivings were overcome when she sent him a translation into Spanish of The Bridge in the Jungle. He liked it so much that it was his first authorized translation into Spanish and published in Mexico in 1941. Esperanza then became his official translator and translated most of his books from English into Spanish, until her death in 1951.

Traven had for a long time wanted to make films out of his novels and Esperanza introduced him to her cousin Gabriel Figueroa, the most important Mexican cinematographer until that time, and it was through Figueroa that Traven made the contacts in Hollywood that led to the making of the movie in 1947 by John Huston of The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, starring Humphrey Bogart and Walter  Huston, John’s own father, which won 3 Oscars in 1948.

“it was through Figueroa that Traven made the contacts in Hollywood that led to the making of the movie in 1947 by John Huston of The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, starring Humphrey Bogart and… which won 3 Oscars in 1948.

Following that breakthrough year, Traven was able to realize his dream of turning several more of his works into movies as filmscripts, in both English, German and Spanish. His most important German movie was of The Death Ship (1959) starring Horst Buchholz and Elke Sommer directed by Georg Tressler, long considered a cult masterpiece. His most important movie in Spanish was Macario (1960), which was the first Mexican movie ever to be nominated for the Oscar for best movie made in a foreign language. Details of the negotiations for these movies are in the archive.

During the 1950s, Traven complemented the various entrepreneurial skills he had already shown, producing material, adapting it to different genres, expanding into different markets, translating into different languages, surviving changes of publishers, representatives and translators, by beginning a proactive marketing campaign for his works with the publication of the BTNews in English and BTMitteilungen in German, that regularly informed the public about his works.

C.M. MAYO: Traven really must be considered a Mexican novelist. Can you talk a little about his attitudes towards and feelings about his adopted country?

TIMOTHY HEYMAN: Having been German as Ret Marut until he arrived in Mexico in 1924, Traven officially obtained papers as a Mexican citizen in 1951. So technically he was both a German and Mexican writer. If we were to take his beliefs into account as expressed in The Death Ship, he did not believe in nationalities or nationalisms, but would probably have considered himself a “universal” writer, or global in today’s terms. 

Meanwhile, it is clear from his life and his writings that he loved Mexico. He liked it, first of all, as a place. He had acquired an affinity for the tropics as in his seafaring days as a very young man (until 1907) he had travelled by boat to the Far East. From his first unpublished novel The Torch of the Prince (Die Fackel des Furstens) it is likely that he spent quite a long time in Vietnam. He continued to eat with chopsticks when he made a home with Malú’s family from 1957 until his death in 1969. After living in Tampico in the 1920s, Traven spent most of the 1930s in Chiapas. As Mexico City filled up with emigrés from Europe in the late 1930s and during WWII Traven bought a property in Acapulco (Parque Cachú) and spent most of the 1940s there. He returned to live in Mexico City in the 1950s and 1960s.

“He loved Mexico… After living in Tampico in the 1920s, Traven spent most of the 1930s in Chiapas. As Mexico City filled up with emigrés from Europe in the late 1930s and during WWII Traven bought a property in Acapulco (Parque Cachú) and spent most of the 1940s there. He returned to live in Mexico City in the 1950s and 1960s.”

It is clear that Traven formed an enduring affection for the Mexican people, and showed uncommon empathy for their lives and feelings, as demonstrated in his novels, the most touching being Bridge in the Jungle and Macario, with the extraordinary healing scene in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre also particularly memorable.

Traven was notoriously a recluse. But shortly after arriving in Tampico in 1924, he had gone to Mexico City in 1926 and studied Mexican culture at the UNAM, Mexico’s national university, and made several friendships there and in the city. We know that his friends in the 1920s included Edward Weston, the photographer, along with Weston’s girlfriend, Tina Modotti, and the two of them taught him photography: we had a collection of Modotti photos in the Traven Estate which is now in the Metropolitan Museum in New York. This enabled him to be the official photographer of the UNAM expedition to Chiapas in 1926, and to produce his own excellent photographs (we have more than 1,000 negatives in our archive). His enduring interest in technology (supporting my belief about his parentage) is attested by his fascination with flying (he took flying lessons in the early 1930s in the US, and we have an airplane manual of that period in our archive). Through Chelena, he was friendly with Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo as well as David and Angelica Siqueiros and other intellectuals such as the playwright Rodolfo Usigli. Through Esperanza Lopez Mateos he became close to her brother Adolfo, who was President of Mexico from 1958 to 1964, and had a direct telephone to the presidency installed in Traven’s house. Through Gabriel Figueroa, her cousin, he was friendly with many members of the Mexican film community.

We know that his friends in the 1920s included Edward Weston, the photographer, along with Weston’s girlfriend, Tina Modotti, and the two of them taught him photography

Finally, when Traven married Chelena, Malú’s mother, in 1957, he considered her two daughters, Rosa Elena (Chele) and Malú as his own, and they considered him their father. He underscored his stormy life by constantly referring to storms, not just in The Death Ship, his first important novel, but also when he formed a publishing company in 1943 with Esperanza Lopez Mateos, to be called Tempestad (storm). As if to stress his final tranquility he referred to his final home as a ship, he was the “skipper,” Rosa Elena was “first” (mate), Chele “second” and Malú “third,” 

In an unpublished letter to Malú who was studying in Paris, written in 1967, he sums up his life: 

“My dear Malú. Again you’ll have to put up with these crow’s feet which I’ve to use in communicating with you because as I told you before I don’t want to molest that old machine which has been so very faithful for many years, now on the high seas, now in the very midst of dense jungle, now with heavy rainstorms pouring down on the poor thing, that’s so very tired of hard work during so many years.” 

In the same letter, referring to Malu’s travels in Europe, he says

“There is nothing like Mexico. If you didn’t know it before, you know it now.”

C.M. MAYO: Are there plans you can share for the Traven archive?

TIMOTHY HEYMAN: We plan to use the archive for at least the next two years to be able to write the definitive biography that he deserves and perhaps turn it into a movie or a TV series. Meanwhile we are exploring alternatives for the Traven archive in the three obvious countries: Mexico, Germany and the United States. Our decision about which institution should house the archive will depend on several factors: capability for storage and conservation, ability and interest to conduct continuing research into his life and work, ability to provide access and encourage interest in his life and work among the broadest possible public.

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> Learn more about B. Traven and his works at the official B. Traven website www.btraven.com

Who Was B. Traven? Timothy Heyman on the Triumph of Traven
(This earlier post points to the Spanish version of this essay in Letras Libres)

From the B. Traven Conferences in Berlin / Plus Cyberflanerie

Reading Mexico: 
Recommendations for a Book Club of Extra-Curious 
& Adventurous English-Language Readers