My Father Was a Toltec and Selected Poems

by CASTILLO, ANA

• ISBN13: 9781400034994
• ISBN10: 140003499X
• Edition: Bilingual
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2004-04-13
• Publisher: Anchor

Summary

Mixing the lyrical with the colloquial, the tender with the tough, Ana Castillo has a deserved reputation as one of the country's most powerful and entrancing novelists, but she began her literary career as a poet of uncompromising commitment and passion.My Father Was a Toltecis the sassy and street-wise collection of poems that established and secured Castillo's place in the popular canon. It is included here in its entirety along with the best of her early poems. Ana Castillo's poetry speaksin English and Spanishto every reader who has felt the pangs of exile, the uninterrupted joy of love, and the deep despair of love lost.

Author Biography

Ana Castillo is the author of the novels <b>Peel My Love Like an Onion</b><i>, </i><b>So Far from God</b><i>, </i><b>The Mixquiahuala Letters</b><i>, </i>and <b>Sapogonia</b>. She has written a story collection, <b>Loverboys</b>; the critical study <b>Massacre of the Dreamers</b>; the poetry collection <b>I Ask the Impossible</b>; and the children’s book <b>My Daughter, My Son, the Eagle, the Dove</b>. She is the editor of the anthology <b>Goddess of the Americas: Writings on the Virgin of Guadalupe</b><i>,</i> available from Vintage Español (<b>La diosa de las Américas</b>). Castillo has been the recipient of numerous awards, including the American Book Award, a Carl Sandburg Award, a Mountains and Plains Booksellers Award, and two fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts. She lives in Chicago. Find out more about Castillo at her homepage: www.anacastillo.com.

Excerpts

THE TOLTEC The Toltec c. 1955 My father was a Toltec. Everyone knows he wasbad. Kicked the Irish-boys-from-Bridgeport's ass. Once went down to South Chicago to stick someone got chased to the hood running through the gangway swish of blade in his back the emblemed jacket split in half. Next morning, Mami threw it away. Electra Currents Llegue a tu mundo sin invitacion, sin esperanza me nombraste por una cancion. Te fuiste a emborrachar. Red Wagons c. 1958 In grammar school primers the red wagon was for children pulled along past lawns on a sunny day. Father drove into the driveway. "Look, Father, look!" Silly Sally pulled Tim on the red wagon. Out of school, the red wagon carried kerosene cans to heat the flat. Father pulled it to the gas station when he was home and if there was money. If not, children went to bed in silly coats silly socks; in the morning were already dressed for school. Saturdays c. 1968 Because she worked all week away from home, gone from 5 to 5, Saturdays she did the laundry, pulled the wringer machine to the kitchen sink, and hung the clothes out on the line. At night, we took it down and ironed. Mine were his handkerchiefs and boxer shorts. She did his work pants (never worn on the street) and shirts, pressed the collars and cuffs, just so-- as he bathed, donned the tailor-made silk suit bought on her credit, had her adjust the tie. "How do I look?" "Bien," went on ironing. That's why he married her, a Mexican woman, like his mother, not like they were in Chicago, not like the one he was going out to meet. The Suede Coat c. 1967 Although Mother would never allow a girl of fourteen to wear the things you brought from where you wouldn't say-- the narrow skirts with high slits glimpsed the thigh-- they fit your daughter of delicate hips. And she wore them on the sly. To whom did the suede coat with fur collar belong? The women in my family have always been polite or too ashamed to ask. You never told, of course, what we of course knew. Dirty Mexican "Dirty Mexican, dirty, dirty Mexican!" And i said: "i'll kick your ass, Dago bitch!" tall for my race, strutted right past black projects, leather jacket, something sharp in my pocket to Pompeii School. Get those Dago girls with teased-up hair and Cadillacs, Mafia-bought clothes, sucking on summer Italian lemonades. Boys with Sicilian curls got high at Sheridan Park, mutilated a prostitute one night. i scrawled in chalk all over sidewalks MEXICAN POWER CON/SAFOS crashed their dances, get them broads, corner 'em in the bathroom, in the hallway, and their loudmouthed mamas calling from the windows: "Roxanne!" "Antoinette!" And when my height wouldn't do my mouth called their bluff: "That's right, honey, I'm Mexican! Watchu gonna do about it?"Since they didn't want their hair or lipstick mussed they shrugged their shoulders 'til distance gave way: " Dirty Mexican, dirty Mexican bitch." Made me book back, right up their faces, "Watchu say?"And it started all over again . . . For Ray i found a stash of records at the Old Town Street Fair. Gave up Perez