The Undocumented Americans / Karla Cornejo Villavicencio / 2020

As an employee at a refugee-serving organization and former megaphone-wielding activist for undocumented folks, I admit I’m likely a mark for stories like the ones in The Undocumented Americans. However, since I spend quite a bit of time with these stories and the discourse around them, I usually have my fair share of critiques of how the stories are being told or used. Cornejo Villavicencio’s unvarnished depictions of the undocumented in all their human oddity, mundanity, and trauma resists the common romanticization of the immigrant community and creates an infinitely more familiar portrait of the undocumented. Cornejo’s coverage of Flint’s undocumented community and the undocumented who served as first-responders during 9/11 are especially provocative examples of the injustices undocumented folks suffer that usually get overlooked within the explosion of discourse around them. My only real criticism of the book is that at one point Cornejo Villavicencio critiques newspapers for referring to the undocumented as “undocumented workers as if all these men are worth is their labor” (paraphrase). For a community afforded so little, I get where this critique is coming from; however, I do see value in hearkening to the labor rights traditions of the left and in acknowledging the contributions of undocumented folks.  Regardless, I cried several times when reading this book and found its stories a useful reminder of the actual conditions too often invisibilized in the US. 5 out of 5.

La Hacienda / Isabel Cañas / 2022

La Hacienda / Isabel Cañas / 2022

Complete with a spiteful upper caste sister-in-laws, a spooky house, and an unrequited relationship with a hot priest, The Hacienda offers a robust package when it comes to historical horror. Readers will find the history of the Mexican revolution and its racial politics seamlessly knitted into the drama of Beatriz’s marriage to Don Rodolfo Solórzano, her lifesaver turned nightmare. The mystery of what plagues the house is skillfully wrought, and the only real qualm I have with the novel is that it teased vampires without really ever delivering. Cañas skillfully flips between the perspectives of a mestizo priest and curandero and Beatriz, our upper-class protagonist, who must navigate colonial patriarchy and race politics to save herself and her family from poverty. The writing feels only one strike away from literary fiction, as opposed to genre fiction. 4 out 5. 

Golden Ax / Rio Cortez / 2022

Golden Ax / Rio Cortez / 2022

I'm kicking myself for not reading Rio Cortez sooner and am somewhat stunned we never crossed paths as young poets of color in Utah. Golden Ax forges a rooted Black identity in Utah in a way that feels deeply familiar in the odd and only way Utah is familiar. Golden Ax is an eco-poetics that feels dramatically different than most of what I've read of Utah environmental writing.  Perhaps it's in Cortez’s willingness to embrace her historic relationship to the land, to find joy and connection to it in a way that doesn't at all feel romantic of the past, present, or future, or perhaps as viscerally angry or stormy as me or most other writers of color who I’ve happened to read. Golden Ax is a Black feminist counterpoint to (slave) master narratives of Utah and nods to Brigham Young and Sun-Ra, the Broad Ax, and other historic touchpoints to elbow her way into a fully realized Utah Blackness. The poems are full-bodied, lyrical, and thoughtful in a way that made me feel like I just had an amazing dinner convo with Rio, complete with music recommendations, Utah upbringing stories, and soulful contemplation of our racial and environmental predicaments. 4/5

Seeing Indians: A Study of Race, Nation, and Power in El Salvador / Virginia Tilley / 2005

Seeing Indians: A Study of Race, Nation, and Power in El Salvador / Virginia Tilley / 2005

I’ve known about this book for years but didn’t read it, because I read a review that said something along the lines of “this white woman gets indigenous identity wrong.” I couldn’t disagree more whole-heartedly. What Seeing Indians sets out to do is explain how the racial politics of mestizaje and indigenous rights plays out in Central America, specifically El Salvador, and how global indigenous politics further marginalize El Salvador’s indigenous groups. Rather than advocating for a particular interpretation of indigenous identity, she simply gives a lay of the land, providing crucial clarity for folks trying to understand racism in El Salvador and IndoAmerica at large. Reading Seeing Indians enabled me to see clearly the apartheid in Guatemala and the racism of Guatemala and El Salvador, whereas before I would be somewhat confused and unsure if I just simply didn’t have more historical or social context for a dynamic or work of art or situation. Seeing Indians provides many leads for a young researcher to explore in their understanding of Latin America. I whole-heartedly recommend it especially for people outside of Latin America, trying to better understand the racial politics of mestizaje. 4 /5   

En Carne Propia / Jorge Argueta / 2017

En Carne Propia / Jorge Argueta / 2017

Known best for his bilingual poetry picture books for children, Jorge Argueta is also a formidable poet and a leader, not just among US-based Salvadoran authors of his generation, but of Latino literature and US lit at large. His latest offering is a memoir version of his life, written in clear,  cutting short lined verse.  This book felt like a blessed opportunity to sit at an elders feet and listen to him narrate his life in broad strokes, zooming in on moments of emotional intensity.  The balance of memoir, poetry, and clarity masterfully manages to create a sense of vulnerability without exposing the personal to the public. This is an incredibly adept move, especially considering the wave of tell-all sensationalism that many artists engage in these days, trying to out-bleed one another in stages and pages. I'll most cherish Argueta's descriptions of finding healing in Native ceremony for his alcoholism and his reconnecting of his Nawat roots. I hope scholars, Salvadoran literati, and Latino lit takes his work more seriously in the upcoming decades. 4/5

The Devil’s Highway: A True Story / Luis Alberto Urrea / 2004

The Devil’s Highway: A True Story / Luis Alberto Urrea / 2004 

The Devil’s Highway is a Latino classic that launched an already well established poet and novelist into literary stardom. Written in vivid language that mixes the scientifically specific, journalistic, and vulgarly hyperrealistic, The Devil’s Highway’s tone is reminiscent of Charles Bowden. I mean this in a good way in that it is attention-grabbing, as well as the bad way in that it indulges in a very masculine vulgarity and includes racist hangovers, such as the use of the word “illegal” throughout the text. Urrea of all people should know better than to use such dehumanizing language. At one point, Urrea snickers with migrants who hear the word “Chicago” and hear “I piss shit” in Spanish. Urrea mostly manages to balance the range of perspectives he includes in The Devil’s Highway in a way that probably leaves people across the political spectrum feeling discomfited at different moments. This feels like Urrea’s attempt to look at the border issue with a depoliticized objectivity. It succeeds in what it set out to do just fine, but is disappointing coming from a Latino literary star, as a greater political clarity and savvy is urgent. (2.5/5) 

The Gravedigger’s Archeology / William Archila / 2015

The Gravedigger’s Archeology / William Archila / 2015

Another haunting collection by Archila, exploring exile and war through a bluesy voice. This time, Archila employs longer sentences, like a repeated splash of piano keys, that sometimes wash over the reader. It’s harder to pin down this violence, almost like the more one digs the less earth one is standing on. It’s a worthy follow-up to the Art of Exile and fans of that will likely have more to love. 4 out of 5. 

When Love was Reels / Jose B. Gonzalez / 2017

When Love was Reels / Jose B. Gonzalez / 2017

I also feel guilty as hell for sleeping on this touching collection. It’s an utter shame this book hasn’t gotten more attention and love, because what it pulls off takes a lot of work. Literally  every single poem in the collection takes a classic film or TV Show, largely from Latin or Latino America, and uses them as a window into his childhood in El Salvador, as well as his experience migrating and his youth in New York. Early on, the movies created a space where he could witness his abuela reflect on intense experiences brought on by movies. Later on, TV is how he learns English and an activity his tio and him would essentially disassociate to together. Gonzalez also weaves throughout the collection an unrequited love story between him and a school-age crush he left behind in El Salvador. Gonzalez’s bare and straightforward style is impressive. The sort of feeling you get after having a real soulful conversation with a stranger after they open up about something tender in their childhood. Also, this book belongs in the canon of hip-hop poetics. A solid chunk of it is devoted to Gonzalez’s adventures in graffiti art. I want to teach a Latino film studies course where all we do is read this book and watch all the films in it. Someone should do that someday. 4/5

Tesoro / Yesika Salgado / 2018

Tesoro / Yesika Salgado / 2018 
Here, Salgado gets tantalizingly close to evolving as a poet. Poems like “Nostalgia,” “Excuses,” and “In Our Family” probe Salgado’s Salvadoran heritage in a meaningful way, but the collection quickly gives way to Salgado’s most well-trod obsession: heartbreak. Here, the poems do not get more thoughtful or interrogative than her Instagram, which is fine. Reading Salgado feels to me like reading one of my single tia’s diaries, only in my family those tia’s are liable to squeeze my ass unexpectedly and sour a family party. I’m glad Salgado doesn’t do that.  Jokes aside, if I sound salty, it’s mostly because as arguably the most popular and wide-reaching Salvadoran poet with an enormous talent in performance and true gut-punching vulnerability, it would mean a lot to see Salgado move beyond her signature moves. Tesoro was supposed to do that. In the introduction, Salgado states that when she began writing Tesoro she wanted to write a bilingual collection where she gathered her family’s stories of survival. Instead, she inverted her gaze inward again, eschewing a tougher project to lick her own wounds again. For me, this is a 2 out of 5, despite some standout poems.

Art of Exile / William Archila / 2009

Art of Exile / William Archila / 2009

I’m so sad I slept on this gorgeous book for so many years. Archila narrates migration and warfare with a deceptively plainspoken style. Archila’s tenderness with his images and memories re-constitute the violence described in these poems. Rather than acts of terror reeking of gratuitous violence and voyeurism, Archila carves out a space of intimacy and privacy to breathe life into the dead and their survivors. This is not easy to do. It's hard to describe violence of this scale without rifling the reader with shock and agony. I don’t know what Archila did with his anger, but I wouldn’t say it’s a standout part of the collection. Here, Archila has performed the sacred alchemy of grieving. His bluesy style and step make the moments bearable while still feeling the sob of its sorrow. If you’re a fan of Komunyakaa and Dalton, look no further than Archila.

4.5/5 

Diaries of a Terrorist / Christopher Soto / 2022

Diaries of a Terrorist / Christopher Soto / 2023 

Diaries of a Terrorist / Christopher Soto / 2022

Fans of sad girl poems will find more to love as Soto’s pen goes beyond the queer coming-of-age narratives of their first collection, extending its vision to a critique of the prison industrial complex at large. Soto’s mix of punk, play, pain, and perversion cries while it laughs while it comes. The rare moments of laziness (the ending lines of Transgender Cyborgs Attack, for example) are easy to forgive when poems like “Concerning Our Necropolitical Landscape,” “Transactional Sex with Satan,” and “Two Lovers in Perfect Synchronicity” buttress them. The title Diaries of a Terrorist seems a bit like a misdirection, as the collection doesn’t consider revolutionary violence much at all, except for a poem “In Support of Violence,” which narrates the vengeance hundreds of Indian survivors took murdering their rapist. Of course, that’s perhaps the point: terrorists are first and foremost people with complex interior worlds and relationships, not just frenzied mass murderers. Still, the tenderness barely hidden in between Soto’s barbaric yawping betrays a much softer soul. Elsewhere, in Piscucha Magazine, Soto confessed “I hate the word revolution. I hate its bloody reality.” I don’t resent Soto for this, but I do think the title might understandably misdirect a reader looking for a poet whose political vision includes or interrogates revolutionary violence more explicitly and thoughtfully. I want to teach a queer poetry class where I teach this alongside fei hernandez, Danez Smith, and Marylyn Tan. 4/5

Chicana Falsa / Michele Serros / 1998

Chicana Falsa / Michele Serros / 1998

This delightful collection es pura chisme and micheladas with a homegirl. I especially enjoyed its magnetic moments of heat, where a neighborhood story would punch along just right. Though her work seems largely forgotten these days and it could hardly be claimed that she was a literary GOAT, I appreciate sitting with her work and honor the way she carved some of the path for contemporary latinx poetics. I hear echoes of her in some of mis plumitas and enjoyed every moment I spent with this book. 3/5

Solito / Javier Zamora / 2022

Solito / Javier Zamora / 2022

Solito is a memoir recounting Javier's journey to the US, without his family, as a 9-year-old. I'll write a longer review about this book later, but my biggest notes are as follows: 1) the choice to recreate the voice of his 9-year-old self and the day-by-day timeline of his trek is extremely ambitious. The line between memory and imagination must blur somewhere along the way. It's painstaking, masterful, and deeply rewarding. I'm curious what historians will make of this book and how they will use it. 2) this is a work of environmental literature and I hope folks in environmental humanities champion this book. Young Javi's mind describes flora and fauna in exquisite detail. 3) I cried on the train listening to this book at least 4 times. 4) it took me months to read, honestly bc the 9 yr old voice and repetitiveness of certain parts of the journey became a bit boring at times, as it should when you're describing waiting in a hotel room for weeks in end until you wait for the next leg of the journey. Historically, that's important to mark. 5) there's discrepancies between Unaccompanied and Solito. Specifically, Chino dies in Unaccompanied and his whereabouts are left unknown in Solito. The first and second attempt crossing are flipped in Unaccompanied. This isn't a criticism. Memory is fickle, especially early childhood trauma. I'm really curious what Javi would say about this though. 6) this is an extremely poignant ode to Patricia and Chino, the adults who cared for him along his journey. It is a gigantic testament to the lengths humans will go to love and protect one another in the face of the worst the world has to offer (the soulless US immigration system). 7) this is the pettiest, most hilarious moment in the book for me: in his second attempt crossing, a journey that likely left dozens of migrants and a coyote dead in the desert, when his unit is separated from the group when Javi is delirious and potentially going to die of thirst, he says something to the effect, I am so thirsty I would even drink Mexican horchata. I bust out laughing on the train. That's how much Salvis hate Mexican horchata. We'll use one of the most heartrending moments of our magnum opus memoir to throw shade, and it'll be completely honest. Hats off, Javi. Peace be with you. 5/5

Somewhere We Are Human / edited by Reyna Grande / 2022

Somewhere We Are Human / edited by Reyna Grande / 2022

This is the undocumented anthology we've needed for years. Exquisitely curated, it features the voices of undocumented migrants across Latin America, Asia, and Africa and from a range of intersecting identities. It's delightfully queer forward. While I knew my friend Mariella Mendoza was featured in this collection writing urgently about their connection to Native communities and land defense work, I was stunned to find Azul Uribe's story. Azul was a Mormon in Cedar City who was persecuted by her own congregation and ultimately deported. I cried on the train when I read her story because it was too close to home. I lived in Cedar City. I can only imagine it 20 years ago, how much worse its racism must have been, how callous and inhuman it was when I knew it. Azul could've been my neighbor, my hermana if she wasn't stolen from her home. Other compelling essays include Yosimar Reyes' depiction of his undocumented community, the essay of an undocumented lawyer reflecting on the limitations of the legal system in providing viable avenues of resistance for undocumented movements. I especially was moved by and cried on the train again when I read Reyna Grande's essay about the generational distances created between families by migration. I can see the distance in worlds of understanding between my mother, my sister, and my niece all too well. The only essay that felt almost out of place was the essay by the decorated soldier, who managed to hold onto some sense of idealism about the USA despite the injustices in his own narrative. His inclusion makes sense, however, to cover a range of the undocumented experience in to demonstrate that even military excellence will not save you from the dehumanization of the system. 5/5

100 Years of Solitude / Gabriel Garcia Marquez / 1967

100 Years of Solitude / Gabriel Garcia Marquez / 1967

This book has been on my reading list for a long time and I'm grateful Josh finally challenged me to read it, as he believed the short story collection I'm working on is in conversation with it. Sweeping and dizzying in scope, this is a multigenerational story that feels like two or so short story collections jammed into the shape of a novel. Following a linear plot was impossible in the audiobooj version, so instead, as I listened, I found myself immersed in a strange, sexual and violent world built around me. It was deeply enjoyable, though it featured a disturbing amount of taboo intra-familial relationships. This book captures a panorama of Latin American sensibility and psychology perhaps without the revolutionary politic and romanticism of Eduardo Galeano. The book felt cyclical and inevitable in some of its dramas. It sat back and enjoyed the ride despite not being able to keep straight the narrative pieces and familial relationships while on the audio book, which did limit my experience. I recommend a hard copy if you're considering reading it. I recommend it to all fiction lovers, those interested in Latin American lit, and a particularly juicy read. 4.5/5

Knees in the Garden / Christina Rodriguez / 2023

Knees in the Garden / Christina Rodriguez / 2023

At her best, Christina Rodriguez writes like Yesika Salgado meets Natalie Diaz. I was disarmed by the whispered intimacy, at times humiliating vulnerability, and lip-biting desire here. This book is truly a gift. I would've read it in one very enjoyable high sitting if I wasn't interrupted by a mouse. If I was in the mood for a book with a bigger head than a heart, I'd rate this a low 3. But I'm a sucker for warm honest poems and enjoy this collection at a high 4 level. The most disappointing thing about the book was its design: why invest the money in such a beautiful hard cover for it to be minimalistic Calibri word doc design in the interior? Wtf Querencia Press. Christina deserves better than that.

Relinqueda / Alexandra Regalado / 2022

Relinqueda / Alexandra Regalado / 2022

This collection stunned and surprised me many times with its unflinching honesty about marriage, motherhood, and grief. Whoa, she went there, Anushka said after I had her read two poems about the marriage. I constantly found myself repeating this as Alex held a mirror up to my life, my sacrifices and my passions. The love in this collection is so mature it can hold all its longing and desire alongside its disgust and frustration and tiredness. Awe would not be too strong of a word to describe how the collection made me feel throughout my reading. I recommend this book for anyone looking for reading on grief, relationships, and making sense of the grief of the covid era. 4/5

Coyote Song: Collected Poems and Selected Art of Carlos Cortez / Carlos Cortez

Coyote Song: Collected Poems and Selected Art of Carlos Cortez / Carlos Cortez

Cortez is the Chicano elder I've always wanted and never knew I had. An anarchist, labor union activist, environmentalist who built relationships with indigenous groups and celebrated his own indigenous roots, who wrote with clarity, craft, and fury, mentoring young poets and artists, who would mass print any of his artworks when the art world tried to jack up their price and make it inaccessible to the common person. Ah! The poems here have me so much love, delight, and gusto. I went to the 100 year celebration of his life and was moved by the memories of him shared by loved ones, scholars, and comrades. I'll be throwing this book at my peeps for sure. 5/5

El Rey of Gold Teeth / Reyes Ramirez / 2023

El Rey of Gold Teeth / Reyes Ramirez / 2023

A striking contribution to the poetry of the Central American diaspora, Ramirez wrestles with a heritage of toxic masculinity and writes poems that unpack the weight of colonization, the climate crisis, and loss. Reyes intentionally codeswitches in a staggering, sometimes awkward manner that some readers will find jarring and cacophonous. I did, but for me, this move was obviously purposeful and amplified the pain and longing in Reyes work. The trip of the tongue is a trip I experienced many times in my lifetime of losing and acquiring my Spanish. The collection includes perfect poems about la pulga, an elementary school dance party, a mother's stern advice, pupusas, and more. It's neatly knitted together with 3 or so different series, a clean interweaving of cosmic and climate metaphors, and a soft but pointed voice moving with control and sturdiness. This book is also the first book I chose for this little book club I've started in Chicago. It moved me frequently, with image dense contrapuntals about kittens surviving a hurricane and a series of poems about how the father passed down a troubled masculinity.

3.5/5

Dear Lin / Lin Flores / 2023

Dear Lin / Lin Flores / 2023

Visually stunning. Lin nailed the interplay between word and image. Lin writes in the vulnerable, direct confessional mode they have honed. A lot bubbles beneath the surface of these lines in terms of healing with Lin being perhaps gentle on themself and in turn gentle with the reader. The result is calming and centering, a deep purple breath exhaled into the spread. I've lately been on the hunt for poetry that can be enjoyed high. Dear Lin would be a good collection for that list. Visually 5/5 poetry 3/5