Magical-realism arrives when a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel comes in the mail

I love getting books in the mail. I love getting any sort of personal mail. Most of what I get are come-ons for credit cards and new windows. Also annoying pseudo-personal letters from people who want to buy my house for cash. Those letters have slowed down of late. The economy is a fickle thing. 

But books -- I love those. My friend Bob in Independence, Mo., sent me a hardcover copy of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "In Evil Hour." Bob is an old college roommate and over the years we've shared our love for Garcia Marquez, notably his masterpiece "One Hundred Years of Solitude." I reread it every few years to once again fall in love with the language and the story. Style, too, as "Solitude" is the poster child for magical-realism which gets talked about a lot but is tough to duplicate in novel-writing. 

The MasterClass web site describes it this way:

Within a work of magical realism, the world is still grounded in the real world, but fantastical elements are considered normal in this world. Like fairy tales, magical realism novels and short stories blur the line between fantasy and reality.

Magical-realist writer Aimee Bender describes it this way in the March issue of The Writer:

One definite characteristic of this genre, says Bender, is that a magical element is interwoven with ordinary realism. “The magic is proportional – that is, it fits with the world; it doesn’t distort but adds layers and imagery to deepen what is already happening.”

She goes on to say that the master Garcia Marquez often said he only describes the world as he sees it. Realism, in other words. Latin-American writers Jorge Luis Borges and Isabel Allende often pop up as examples. So does Salman Rushdie with roots in India, Haruki Murakami of Japan, and our own Toni Morrison. Many others, I am sure. Which brings me to this: shouldn't magic and mysticism exist in every fiction writer's toolkit? We are creative writers, after all. It would be a shame to not use all of the talents endowed upon us by our creator, whoever he, she, it or they may be. It's almost like forbidding the creator not to use the color blue when creating the universe. 

When researching Garcia Marquez for a blog post a dozen years ago, I came across some interesting info on the creation of "Solitude." He was tired of journalism in 1961 and traveled to Cuba and Mexico. His new passion was the cinema and he allegedly penned sections of "Solitude" as movies or scenes in movies. "Solitude" was first published in 1967 and the first American edition came out in 1970 translated by Gregory Rabassa. The author won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1981. Castro and Garcia Marquez met in Cuba in the late 1970s and the writer solicited editorial advice from Castro for his later books. Fidel read a lot and was pretty good with the details.

"In Evil Hour" was first published in 1962 and is sort of a preclude to "Solitude." The author was just getting warmed up. 

No "Solitude" moves have been made or are in the works, a stipulation by the author while he was alive. His son is filming a series based on the book that was slated to be released in 2020 but delayed by Covid. I could see it as a multi-part series on Netflix or Hulu. I saw an unauthorized stage play performed outdoors in Denver's Cheesman Park but don't remember the year. I sensed some confusion in the audience. Two hours on stage is not enough time for the great work.

Call for artists: Juntos Wyoming May 1 exhibit

Here's a call for entries for a May 1 exhibit in Cheyenne that's part of the May Day March to Keep Families Together sponsored by Juntos Wyoming:

ATTENTION! Calling all Artists from all walks of life...painters, writers, poets, photographers, graphic designers, sculptors and dancers to join us May 1. We are want to have an artist exhibit showcasing the struggles immigrants endure, sacrifices and successes through artwork and literature. 

Any artist interested in participating and showcasing their work please contact: adriennevetter@gmail.com with info by April 19. Please include:
-artist name
-name of artwork
-medium of artwork
-is art for sale.

Artists need to arrive with their work and setup between 9-11 a.m. So it can be displayed for the duration of the day. Thank you.

En Espanol:

Nos gustaría invitarles a todos a nuestra marcha anual! Este año, es especialmente importante que se presente y se mantenga firme en contra de aquellos que harían daño a nuestras comunidades de inmigrantes. 

Únase a nosotros mientras luchamos para mantener a las familias juntas, en Wyoming.
¡Póngase en contacto con nosotros para ver cómo puede ser voluntario para ayudar!  

Juntos (Together).

P.S. If you have some lightweight display walls you can lend Juntos for this exhibit, please comment below or message me on Facebook.

Remembering Wyoming's connection to the West's Sanctuary Movement

Cheyenne's Jack Pugh wrote a great column from Tucson for this morning's Wyoming Tribune-Eagle. It focused on the Sanctuary Movement of the 1980s. Members of Sanctuary gave aid to refugees from U.S.-supported right-wing goverments in Guatemala and El Salvador. Many churches in the West were part of Sanctuary's "Underground Railroad," including mine in Denver -- the 10:30 Catholic Community.

Jack wrote about some little-known history. Jim Corbett, one of the founders of Sanctuary, was born in Casper, Wyoming. His father, George Corbett, was a lawyer and Wyoming legislator who got into deep kimchee when he defended conscientious objectors during World War II. It's dangerous to go up against conventional wisdom, but defending a CO during "The Good War" must have been more than daunting. His political career ruined, he moved his family to a ranch in southeast Arizona.

His son, Jim, became a Quaker and traveled the Arizona wilderness with his goats.

"Jim Corbett led refugees across the Sonoran Desert to safety with his goats, sustained by goat's milk and foraging."

I knew the name of Jim Corbett but had no idea of his history or his Wyoming connection. People in the Sanctuary Movement were brave, truly motivated by deeply held Christian principles. I met some of them -- and those they rescued -- at my Sanctuary Church during the 1980s.

People don't understand how tough it is to act on your beliefs. It's one thing to wave signs and shout slogans. I've done my fair share of that. It's another to live your principles, day in and day out, especially when your life and livelihood are in jeopardy.

"In 1985, the U.S. government indicted 16 Sanctuary workers in Arizona for violation of immigration laws. Eight of them were convicted and received probation."

I wish I could send you to Digital WTE to read the rest of the story. But it's not on-line -- I checked. Guess you'll just have to shell out $1.25 for the printed Sunday paper. Jack's column alone is worth the price.

Thirty years later: Remembering El Salvador's Oscar Romero

"A church that doesn’t provoke any crises, a gospel that doesn’t unsettle, a word of God that doesn’t get under anyone’s skin, a word of God that doesn’t touch the real sin of the society in which it is being proclaimed – what gospel is that? Very nice, pious considerations that don’t bother anyone, that’s the way many would like preaching to be. Those preachers who avoid every thorny matter so as not to be harassed, so as not to have conflicts and difficulties, do not light up the world they live in." -- Archbishop Oscar Romero, murdered by right-wing death squad, March 24, 1980, San Salvador

Romero button (at top) and quote from Pax Christi USA web site

Saturday morning at the farmer's market

In honor of slow food, I took my time this morning perusing the wares at the farmer's market at the Cheyenne Depot Plaza.

Trees and bushes lined the entrance. I would love to buy more trees and bushes, but will wait for spring. I spent most of the spring and summer growing things with middling success. I also discovered that the crabapple tree I've nurtured from a sapling for four years is actually a plum tree. I ate one of the fruits, and it was more sour than sweet. I'm just chagrined that I didn't know it was a plum tree. Perhaps I should have known something was up when it never produced crabapples. My horticultural skills still need polishing.

My first stop was the Heritage Hills booth. This organic farm is located a few miles east of Cheyenne. I wrote about it after it was featured in a Wyoming Tribune-Eagle article about eating locally. I bought some spaghetti squash, two bunches of carrots and a bunch of beets. I told the young guy behind the counter that I'm not a beet fan and haven't been since eating too many canned beets as a kid -- and crappy salad bar beets as an adult. But he vouched for his beets, said they would turn me into a beet lover. Also said I should eat the leaves. "Toss 'em in a salad -- they're great." I'll let you know about the beets later.

I know it's corn season, but I passed up hundreds of good-looking ears. I'm sorry -- I know that this jeopardizes corn farmers who need to sell all their corn so they they can carve their fields into spooky Halloween mazes. But last time at the market, I bought three-dozen ears and we couldn't eat them fast enough. My cat liked it, though. I accidentally left out a bowl of shucked corn ears and in the morning found three ears gnawed down to the cobs and my cat passed out on the floor. A sad sight. Perhaps I would have reconsidered but I didn't see any of the Olathe, Colo., sweet corn that usually shows up this time of year.

I rounded out my purchases with a big basket of Palisade peaches, some Japanese eggplant from Monroe Organic Farms near Lasalle, Colo., a loaf of homemade cinnamon-raisin bread from Baumann's Bakery and a bag of Costa Rican coffee beans from Jackie at Jackie's Java in Fort Collins. I had a couple reasons for buying the coffee. First, Jackie's a fellow CSU grad and started her business while still a student. Second, the cover on the coffee bag told an interesting story. I'm a sucker for good stories, especially ones about food and beverages.

The bad showed a photo of Jackie among the coffee plants when she visited La Amistad Estate last March. Here's the copy: "Located inside a Costa Rican National Reserve, La Amistad is a finca like no other. Powered 100% by hydro electricity, shaded by banana trees dispersed amongst the natural rainforest, and processed completely on the farm to keep quality control at its peak."

Damn. That sounded so good that I wanted to open the bag right then and eat some of the beans. I didn't. I'll brew some of the java in the morning. I'm a coffee snob, that's true. But I also know how coffee was grown for so many decades. Big plantations owned by U.S. firms in cahoots with Latin American dictators. Peasants picking coffee for pennies a day. Coffee in the U.S. was cheap -- and horrible. Now it's expensive and very good. Grown in self-sustaining fincas that deal directly with small vendors and roasters in places like Fort Collins.

Bottom's up, coffee fans.

Why am I at the farmer's market when I have a garden of my own? Good question. I'm still waiting for most of my tomatoes to vine ripen. I've harvested some nice squash and zucchini and green beans and broccoli. But I don't have a peach orchard. I do have one plum tree. Who knew?

All the President's books

On Friday, President Obama accepted a book from Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. The book was Eduardo Galeano’s "Open Veins of Latin America." Obama should read it, he really should. Galeano is an amazing writer. An outspoken leftist who had to flee right-wing death squads in his home country of Uruguay and more death squads under Argentina’s military junta. Galeano wrote his masterpiece "Memory of Fire" (Memoria del Fuego) while an exile in Spain.

Pres. Obama may read the gift book from Chavez. The prez, after all, is a reader. A writer, too. Reading good writers keeps the mind open, allows new ideas to permeate the brain and circulate freely. Allows you to consider new ways to do things. Chat with former enemies of the U.S., for instance.

Americans seem to have the idea that we invented the world. But the world was well on its way by the time we formed our democracy. Some 300 years of Latin American history had transpired by 1776. And a bloody history it was. In his book, Galeano tells short stories of the good and the bad and the in-between. The stories are compelling and the history, compelling and infuriating. How can humans make the same mistakes over and over again? So writers have something to write about.

I learned volumes about the history of this region from "Memory of Fire" when I read it in the early 1990s. As a writer, I was impressed with Galeano’s style. He did his research and transformed it into this book that was both personal and universal. Wikipedia described it this way: "It starts with pre-Columbian creation myths and ends in the 1980s. It highlights not only the colonial oppression that the continent underwent but particularly the long history of resistance, from individual acts of heroism to mass revolutionary movements."

He also prompted me to read John Dos Passos’s "U.S.A." trilogy, which documented our history in a similar fashion. Dos Passos documents labor struggles and war and politics through a variety of characters. He intersperses that with "newsreel" sections which document world events in the manner of movie theater shorts. It was a very original idea and ahead of its time. Dos Passos went from being a rabble-rousing leftist in the 1930s to a diehard Republican in the 1950s. People can change, can’t they?

"Open Veins of Latin America" has already shot up the book sales lists. I would like to see a photo of our president reading Galeano’s book. Sipping coffee in the Oval Office, his attention on reading. This photo would send out all kinds of messages. The main one is: "I read. I understand."

A poem to accompany "The Disappeared"

"The Colonel" (From The Country Between Us, by Carolyn Forche.)

What you have heard is true. I was in his house. His wife carried a tray
of coffee and sugar. His daughter filed her nails, his son went out
for the night. There were daily papers, pet dogs, a pistol on
the cushion beside him. The moon swung bare on its black cord over
the house. On the television was a cop show. It was in English.
Broken bottles were embedded in the walls around the house to scoop
the kneecaps from a man's legs or cut his hands to lace. On the
windows there were gratings like those in liquor stores. We had
dinner, rack of lamb, good wine, a gold bell was on the table for
calling the maid. The maid brought green mangoes, salt, a type of
bread. I was asked how I enjoyed the country. There was a brief
commercial in Spanish. His wife took everything away. There was some
talk then of how difficult it had become to govern. The parrot said
hello on the terrace. The colonel told it to shut up, and pushed
himself from the table. My friend said to me with his eyes: say
nothing. The colonel returned with a sack used to bring groceries
home. He spilled many human ears on the table. They were like dried
peach halves. There is no other way to say this. He took one of them
in his hands, shook it in our faces, dropped it into a water glass.
It came alive there. I am tired of fooling around he said. As for
the rights of anyone, tell your people they can go fuck themselves.
He swept the ears to the floor with his arm and held the last of the
wine in the air. Something for your poetry, no? he said. Some of the
ears on the floor caught this scrap of his voice. Some of the ears
on the floor were pressed to the ground.

"The Disappeared" still haunt us

Nothing prepares you for the exhibition currently at the University of Wyoming Art Museum.

"The Disappeared/Los Desaparecidos" brings together the work of 26 living artists from Latin America who, over the course of the last 30 years, made art about those who have disappeared.

I viewed the exhibit last week when I was in Laramie for the UW Art Museum's public art symposium.

The largest of the works shows a Guatemalan flag made from the exhumed bones of those killed during the country's dirty wars, which really were Cold War proxy battles between the U.S. and Soviet Union. Many of Latin America's killer thugs were military men trained at the U.S. Army's School of the Americas at Fort Benning, Georgia. Not all, of course. Paramilitary bands roved Guatemala and Argentina and El Salvador and Uruguay. They operated with the sometimes explicit -- and always implicit -- consent of the ruling juntas.

One of the most depressing works of the exhibit shows couples who were disappeared. Their crimes? Subversive activities. Belonging to student activist groups. Consorting with suspicious characters. Complaining about the government. Some couples were married and some weren't. The women were pregnant and they and their babies still are missing. The legend under the pictures read: "Baby was born on or about April 5, 1979" or "Baby thought to be due in December 1977." The mother was bayoneted or thrown from a chopper or beat to death while pregnant. Or the baby was born but never seen again. Neither was the mother and -- oftentimes -- the father. These were young couples who looked a lot like couples I knew when I was in my twenties in the 1970s. They looked like pictures I have of my wife and I. Happy. Together. But we're alive and they aren't.

"Exhumations: Appearing the Disappeared - Uncovering Repressive Archives in the Recovery of Historical Memory in Latin America" will be the topic discussed by Kate Doyle at the next Art Talk hosted by the UW Art Museum. Her presentation is set for Monday, April 13, 7 p.m. Doyle is a Senior Analyst for the National Security Archive at George Washington University in Washington, D.C. Her talk will focus on uncovering the truth of military actions in Latin America during the mid-20th century, and the people who disappeared as a result.

Art Museum Director Susan Moldenhauer notes, "This talk comes at an historical moment in time, given the current news regarding the conviction of former Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori for crimes related to the death squads in that country." Doyle considers Fujimori’s conviction to be a landmark event. She states, "He is the first democratically elected president to be convicted of human rights crimes by his own country... in the world! Ever!"

The National Security Archive campaigns for the citizen’s right to know, investigates U.S. national security and foreign policy, and uses the Freedom of Information Act to obtain and publish declassified U.S. documents. Doyle directs several research projects on U.S. policy in Latin America for the Archive, including the Mexico Project, which aims to obtain the declassification of U.S. and Mexican government documents on the Mexican dirty war, and the Guatemala Project. Since 1992, she has worked with truth commissions in Latin America, including in El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala to obtain records from secret U.S. government archives in support of their human rights investigations.

Doyle’s public talk is in conjunction with the UW Art Museum’s current exhibition The Disappeared/Los Desaparecidos exhibit. Doyle will also be giving a Gallery Walk Through of the exhibition from 10:30 a.m. to noon on Monday, April 13 at the Art Museum.

FMI: UW Art Museum at (307) 766-6622 or visit www.uwyo.edu/artmuseum
or the museum’s blog, www.uwartmuseum.blogspot.com/.

The museum is open Monday from 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. and Tuesday through Saturday from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Admission is free.

Interesting to see that the exhibit originated with the North Dakota Museum of Art. N.D. poet Thomas McGrath would be proud.

Exhibit photo: Fernando Traverso from Rosario, Argentina, made a wall of silk "tombstones" emblazoned with the ghost image of a bicycle, one for each of his fellow resistance workers disappeared during those dark years of dictatorship. Why the bicycle? Because if someone went missing their abandoned bicycle served as early evidence of their fate. Entitled "In Memory, 2000-2001," the work consists of 29 silk banners, each 10 x 3.5 ft. with screened images of bicycles. Courtesy of the North Dakota Museum of Art.

Tag-Team Death Match: Biofuels vs. Petrol

Me and Pres. Bush and our corn squeezin's can beat any ten of you fossil-fuel guzzling oil-addicted Americans.

Let me rephrase that. Me and Pres. Bush with our corn squeezin's and Brazilian Pres. Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva (Lula to his pals) with his cane squeezin's can beat any number of you petrol-wastin' road hogs.

That includes Venezuela's Hugo Chavez, the biggest fossil-fuel hog on the downhill side of the equator. This large man from down south had the gall to call Pres. Bush "that little gentleman from the north." Our leader may have a brain the size of a walnut, but his physical presence is almost as imposing as another great American colossus: Theodore Roosevelt. Teddy brooked no nonsense from energy-rich tinhorn dictators and neither will Bush. Just look what happened to Saddam.

When it comes to fueling my ride, I take my cue from Lula and Dubya. You should too.