Annotations for People: Castillo-ana

I wouldn't call it magic realism. I would call it a book based on faith.

An account of the first astonishing occurrence in the lives of a woman named Sophia and her four fated daughters, and the equally astonishing return of her wayward husband. La Loca was only three years old when she died. Her mother Sophie woke at 12 midnight to the howling and neighing of the five dogs, six cats, and four horses, whose custom it was to go freely in and out of the house. Sophie got up and tiptoed out of her room.

Yeah, well of course, that is our reality. Lots of times when I would go to universities to read and I'd see the flyers, Ana Castillo, poet. I always say, "Chicana in search of her identity." I stopped before I did anything. I said, "I want people to know that I'm very aware of my identity. What I would like to do is assert that identity to the public." And so, part of our identity is not so much as schizophrenia. It's the denial from society that this is our language. So if this is an oral storyteller, she or he would say this, would talk this way, would not be inclined to translate.

In literature, once you see that in print, obviously it would be very redundant to say, “Callate. Shut up," he told me, or something like that. I work at what I had to do to compromise for everybody. It's a compromise because some Latinos do not read any Spanish, and some Chicanos won't understand this particular Spanish, is then you work it into the text. Sophie put the baseball bat that she had taken with her when checking the house back under the bed, just in case she encountered some tonto who had gotten ideas about the woman who lived alone with her four little girls by the ditch at the end of the road.

It was then that she noticed the baby-

Let's just kind of deconstruct this magical realism catch word I think that's associated with Latin American literature, but also with the Latino reality I think. That's why I laugh, because I think it's more like this, this is a reality and magical realism is what motivates us. I did not have that intention at all to do that in my literature, in this particular book. What happened was that I think I was possessed, and I was there immersed, baptism by fire in Nuevo Mexico. Much of what comes out in here is material that is based on faith, whether it's Catholic faith, it's Pueblo Indian mythology faith, or the creation story that is told here.

It's sort of diluting to simply say it's magic realism. I'm not saying there's a, "Now what can I do that's very extraordinary?" Well everything around me is very extraordinary. What's probably... I couldn't beat the reality here. I wouldn't call it magic realism. I would call it a book based on faith.

[Reading] Esperanza let out a shriek long and so high-pitched it started some dogs barking in the distance. Sophie had stopped crying to see what was causing the girl's hysteria, when suddenly the whole crowd began to scream and faint, and move away from the priest who finally stood alone next to the baby's coffin. The lid had pushed all the way open and the little girl inside sat up just as sweetly as if she had woken from a nap, rubbing her eyes and yawning, "Mami?" She called, looking around and squinting her eyes against the harsh light. Father Jerome got hold of himself and sprinkled holy water in the direction of the child, who for the moment was too stunned to utter so much as a word of prayer.

[Reading] Then as if all this was not amazing enough, as Father Jerome moved toward the child she lifted herself up into the air and landed on the church roof. "Don't touch me. Don't touch me," she warned. This was only the beginning of the child's long life's phobia of people.

Since I've been writing and publishing now for almost 20 years, I had that vision that it would take that long as a Chicana. I don't know how I had it, but I did have it. Unfortunately, that was an analysis that I understood in terms of racism, sexism, and classism, which that is something that we can say most Chicanas, Latinas, do experience in this country. You are not Native American. You are not European. What you are is a drone that should just go and work, and don't worry. Nobody wants to hear what you have to say. When you're a writer, that's what it's about, is what you have to say.

And so, I worked for many years as a poet. People still see me primarily as a poet. Then I thought, how can I really get the word out? Well, not that many people read poetry, and that's when I started teaching myself how to write fiction. It took me a number of years before I did The Mixquiahuala Letters, which I thought I would die with it stuck between the mattress and the bedspring, and nobody would ever see it or want to see it. When it was accepted so quickly and so highly-acclaimed critically by the Chicano scholars, that literary audience, it really took me aback.

You have to have great tenacity about this, great personal conviction, that this is what you want to do, that you love to do. I would say, write, write, write, write, and read everything you can read, and brace yourself because we all get rejected. I still get rejected. Sandra Cisneros still gets rejections. You say, "Well in comparison the success or to acknowledge when who cares," but everybody at some point and continuously will get that when they're sticking by their convictions, and when you're trailblazing with a machete to try to make a little pathway there.

I would say to young Chicanos and Latinos who want to write, to read, read, read, write, and to believe in yourself. How can you go wrong when you're doing what you believe in?

Thank you.

[Reading] An account of the first astonishing occurrence in the lives of a woman named Sofia and her four faded daughters, and the equally astonishing return of her wayward husband. La Loca was only three years old when she died. Her mother, Sofi, woke at 12 midnight to the howling of the five dogs, six cats, and four horses whose custom it was to go freely in and out of the house. Sofi got up and tiptoed out of her room.

[Reading] Sofi put the baseball bat that she had taken with her when checking the house back under the bed just in case she encountered some tonto who had gotten ideas about the woman who lived alone with her four little girls by the ditch at the end of the road. It was then that she noticed the baby...

Well, let's just kind of deconstruct this magical realism catch word. I think that's associated with Latin American literature, but also with the Latino reality, I think, and that's why I laugh because I thought I think it's more like this. This is a reality. Magical realism is what motivates us, and I did not have that intention at all to do that in my literature in this particular book. What happened was that I think I was possessed and I was there immersed, baptism by fire in Nuevo Mexico, and much of what comes out in here is material that is based on faith, which whether it's Catholic faith, it's Pueblo Indian mythology faith, or the creation story that is told here and would be... So it's sort of a diluting to simply say it's magic realism. I'm not sitting there and saying, now what can I do that's very extraordinary? Well, everything around me is very extraordinary and what's probably, I couldn't beat the reality here. I wouldn't call it magic realism. I would call it a book based on faith.

[Mexican Folk music] [Reading] Esperanza let out a shriek, long and so high-pitched that started some dogs barking in the distance. Sofi had stopped crying to see what was causing the girls' hysteria. When suddenly the whole crowd began to scream and fainted and move away from the priest who finally stood alone next to the baby's coffin. The lid had pushed all the way open and the little girl inside sat up just as sweetly as if she had woken from a nap, rubbing her eyes and yawning, "Mami?" She called, looking around and squinting her eyes against a harsh light. Father Jerome got hold of himself and sprinkled holy water in the direction of the child, but for the moment, was too stunned to utter so much as a word of prayer. Then, as if all this was not amazing enough, as Father Jerome moved toward the child, she lifted herself up into the air and landed on the church roof. "Don't touch me, don't touch me." She warned. This was only the beginning of the child's long lives' phobia of people.

Well, since I've been writing and publishing now for almost 20 years, I had that vision that it would take that long as a Chicana and I don't know how I had it, but I did have it. And unfortunately, that was an analysis that I understood in terms of racism, sexism, and classism, which is really, that is something that we can say most Chicanas-Latinas do experience in this country. You are not Native American. You are not European. What you are as a drone that should just go and work and don't worry, nobody wants to hear what you have to say.

And when you're a writer, that's what it's about, is what you have to say. And so I worked for many years as a poet. People still see me primarily as a poet. And then I thought, how can I really get the word out? Not that many people read poetry. And that's when I started teaching myself how to write fiction. And it took me a number of years before I did The Mixquiahuala Letters, which I thought I would die with. It stuck between the mattress and the beds spring, and nobody would ever see it or want to see it. And when it was accepted so quickly and so highly acclaimed critically by the Chicano scholars and that literary audience. It really took me aback.

You have to have great tenacity about this great personal conviction that this is what you want to do, that you love to do. So I would say write, write, write, write and read everything you can read, and embrace yourself because we all get rejected. I still get rejected. Sandra Cisneros still gets rejections. I mean, you say, "Well, in comparison to the success or to acknowledgement, who cares?" But everybody, at some point and continuously, will get that when they're sticking by their convictions. And when you're breaking, when you're trailblazing with the machete, it makes to try to make a little pathway there. So I would say to young Chicanos and Latinos who want to write, to read, read, read, write, and to believe in yourself. If you do it out of the love for what you're doing, you can't go wrong. How can you go wrong when you're doing what you believe in?

Thank you.