It was over Sunday afternoon drinks, my friends drinking frozen margaritas with a “floater” of tequila on top, and I was recounting what I knew about the book I was reading, “I’m a hundred pages into it, and I can tell you already what’s going to happen, and how come I never see anything in the New York Times Review of Books or the New Yorker Magazine about this author?” “Where’s he from?” “New Mexico.” “He’s Southwestern — ” Which is really too bad because the author’s early work is often taught in schools as a shining example of Chicano (or some similar taxonomy) Literature. And while he does write about a particular region, the appeal of the work is certainly universal. I think this is the fourth book in this series, and it goes a little deeper into the mythology of the area, a little deeper into minds, and souls of the people who live their lives in this place. And the history, too. I figure, at best, it should be called “Magical Realism” because the works do involve that little element of dreams and symbols. At least, I think that’s what they called it in college. But I have take issue with the idea of calling it Magical Realism because in parts of the world, the so–called “magic” isn’t tenuous, it’s very real, palpable, and a regular part of the landscape. I’ve seen it in the British Isles, I’ve felt it in Australia, and of course, it’s rampant in my hometown. The book is called “Shaman Winter” and it’s the fourth this series by Rudolfo Anya, the first three are Alburquerque (1992), Rio Grande Fall (1996), and Zia Summer (1997).
There always has to be room for a cynical note: “Magic, n. An art of of converting superstition into coin. There are other arts serving the same high purpose, but the discreet lexicographer does not name them.” (Ambrose Bierce’s The Devil’s Dictionary)
Got the video clip from E! today, and to quote my neighbor: “That’s not what I saw on TV! I thought I saw what I saw. Us. TV. Granny had his cowboy hat on.”
