The Cowboy Bible and Other Stories by Carlos Velazquez

The much-anticipated English-language debut of "one of the most original and entertaining voices of contemporary Mexican literature"(Revista Gatopardo): a collection of surreal, ironic, and madcap stories about the comedy and brutal tragedies of life in Mexico.

Extract from the Goodreads description

This short story collection is unlike anything I have ever read. The language and style are extraordinary. Comparisons have been made between Velazquez's work and that of Hunter S. Thompson, Charles Bukowski, and William S. Burroughs. The tone is always ironic, frequently surreal and often spectacularly inventive. The use of contemporary Mexican popular culture, including Spanglish words, song lyrics and much more, made this a difficult book for me to understand and read. I am sure I missed a lot of references and even some plot points.

The Cowboy Bible and Other Stories is set in a mythical part of north Mexio called PopSTock! - a sort of Macondo on acid. The stories are linked by the magical Cowboy Bible, which changes shape between the stories - in one it is the talisman of a Mexican wrestling DJ and art critic, in another an unbeatable participant in drinking marathons, the leather for boots so desirable that a character sells to the devil a night with his wife, a television show on which cds are pirated by a female urban rebel, an overweight single mother, and a musical instrument. After a while you realize that the stories sometimes overlap. 

Despite the stories' obvious surrealism and fantasy they have a habit of hitting you in the face with realism. PopSTock! is a violent world in which drug dealers hold sway over people's lives and macho sexism is everywhere. It is clear that these stories are also a social and political commentary on Velazquez's homeland.

I received this book free from the publisher in return for a fair review.

The Hummingbird's Daughter by Luis Alberto Urrea

An epic mystical drama of a young woman's sudden sainthood in late-19th century Mexico. It is 1889 and civil war is brewing in Mexico. A 16 year old girl, Teresita, illegitimate but beloved daughter of the wealthy and powerful rancher Don Tomas Urrea, wakes from the strangest dream. This passionate and rebellious young woman has arisen from death with a power to heal - but it will take all her faith to endure the trials that await her now that she has become the 'Saint of Cabora.'

Amazon Description

In my last post (a review of One Hundred Years of Solitude) I talked about a magic realist approach to historical fiction, I then read The Hummingbird's Daughter, which is a fine example of what I was talking about. The book's author is well known for his non-fiction. He researched the story of Teresa Urrea - the Saint of Cabora - for over twenty years, garnering information from source materials, history books, visiting shamen  and all the miracles included the book are from accounts of Teresa's life. There are aspects of the story that are familiar to me from hagiographies throughout church history, for example Teresa having risen from the dead smells of roses. 

In Teresa we have a traditional healer, trained in Mayo medicine and beliefs, which are combined with the Catholic religious beliefs of central America. These are portrayed realistically. We are seeing the world through Teresa's eyes and those of her followers. The book does not attempt to analyse or dismiss their beliefs, which I find refreshing. As a historian I approve of this approach, it seems to me more accurate than historical novels which try to give rationalist accounts. I am extremely excited by this use of magic realism. As Urrea said in an interview: I think the magic of fiction is that in many ways it's more true than non-fiction. By that I mean that fiction can take you into truths of feeling and it lends itself better to the kind of trance that allows a reader to smell and taste the world I'm trying to evoke. 

I have written in several previous reviews of how magic realism is often used to tell the stories of the oppressed and marginalized  This story of a woman who gave voice to the sufferings of the "People", the native peoples of Mexico, and became the focus of their hopes almost had to be a magic realist novel. 

In addition it is a story of a strong woman in a very masculine world, which as I pointed out in my review of Nights at the Circus is again well suited to the magic realist treatment. As some of you reading this blog will be aware, I too write magic realist novels. One of the reasons I delayed reading this book is that I have also written about a woman healer and did not want to be influenced by Urrea's novel. The motif of a woman healer who is perceived as threatening the male establishment and who is revered by her supporters as a saint, (a view she rejects) appears in my book too. This polarizing view of women as either witches or angels, nuns or whores, rather than as just strong women is to be found in all ages and cultures and magic realism has the subtlety to explore this conflicting duality. 

I realize I have been speaking about the magical in this book and not the realism. The book is beautifully written - I have never visited Mexico but I really felt I could feel, see, smell and taste Teresa's homeland. All the characters seemed very real to me. Teresa is a spirited young woman, who does not consider herself a saint and doesn't always behave like one. Her relationship with Tomas, her father is complex and entertaining. Tomas is frustrated by her and at the same time extremely proud. Tomas himself has the double standards of his time and class, but he does have a sympathy with the People, which is explained by his backstory and which opens him up to acknowledging his illegitimate daughter. 

The realism with which the magical is treated is summed up in a tale told to Teresa by Huila, the old healer who is her mentor, about how on ascending to heaven the Virgin Mary got stuck on top of a huge cactus from where she spoke to the People.  Teresa asks what the Virgin said. Huila answers, "Get me a ladder"

Are there any faults? None that I can see. This has to be my favourite read on the magic realism challenge so far. The prose is not as dense as that in One Hundred Years of Solitude and the plot keeps you reading, which makes it an ideal recommendation to anyone interested in trying out a magic realist novel for the first time.

by Zoe Brooks
 

Like Water For Chocolate by Laura Esquivel

Earthy, magical, and utterly charming, this tale of family life in turn-of-the-century Mexico became a best-selling phenomenon with its winning blend of poignant romance and bittersweet wit.

A sumptuous feast of a novel, it relates the bizarre history of the all-female De La Garza family. Tita, the youngest daughter of the house, has been forbidden to marry, condemned by Mexican tradition to look after her mother until she dies. But Tita falls in love with Pedro, and he is seduced by the magical food she cooks. In desperation, Pedro marries her sister Rosaura so that he can stay close to her. For the next twenty-two years, Tita and Pedro are forced to circle each other in unconsummated passion. Only a freakish chain of tragedies, bad luck and fate finally reunite them against all the odds.

Goodreads  Description

This is full blown Latin American magic realism. A world in which the tears of the cook send the wedding guests eating her food in to grief and a woman so aflame with passion she sets fire to the shower. Food is at the heart of the book, not only does each chapter includes a recipe, but the preparation of food and its consumption is magically linked to the heroine's sensuality. Even the imagery is food-based: Tita was literally 'like water for chocolate' she was on the verge of boiling over.  I found the structural use of food and recipes in this way innovative and effective.

The story of suppressed love in a household ruled by an oppressive mother is highly suited to the genre. It is some ways a classic fairytale - Cinderella in fact. The magic allows for the expression of what is suppressed and yet the recipes also give a realistic grounding. In addition the book shows different cultures abutting each other - the earth-based magic of women like Tita in a more realistic world. Not only is Tita an inheritor of culinary magic and at the end a transmitter of it to future generations, but also provides traditional healing.  

Okay so far, so good. Now for my misgivings: I had a problem with the love story. Tita falls for Pedro at first sight and that passion lasts through the book. But Pedro is a selfish ass much of the time, who doesn't seem to care how much he is hurting Tita or indeed the sister he marries in order to be near Tita. The argument seems to be that the physical attraction between  Pedro and Tita is enough to sustain their love over the years. There is an alternative for Tita's affections - a gringo doctor - who is a lovely considerate man. Maybe this is just too much of fairytale for me: much as I love fairytales they aren't known for their emotional complexities and I do like emotional depth in a book.

I'm sure that this book will appeal more to women than men and to cooks and foodies in particular. The book is relatively short, only 222 pages in my edition, and so is a good introduction for someone who wishes to dip their toes into magic realism. 

by Zoe Brooks