Looking Out, Looking in: Anthology of Latino Poetry (Hispanic Civil Rights

by William Luis (Editor)

A comprehensive anthology of contemporary U.S. Latino poetry.

Genres: Poetry

293 pages, Paperback

First published May 31, 2013

Reviews

[Nadine in NY Jones · Rating 3 out of 5]

This anthology contains poems from 62 authors, which certainly sounds comprehensive, but of course no one book can contain everything. (I have no idea why the blurb on the back of the book claims that "more than 80 Latino poets are represented." - perhaps they meant to say more than 180 poems are included, because I counted and it is 185 poems from 62 authors.  Or perhaps that was a typo and meant to say 60.)  This is a US anthology; most of these poets are Cuban-American, Mexican-American, Dominican-American, or Puerto Rican.

All anthologies are uneven, and this is no exception.  I'm not sure why, but most of these poems just didn't click for me.  At least one poem ("Confessions: My Father, Hummingbirds, and FrantzFanon" by Benjamin Alire Saenz) included only the first verse of the complete poem, which I discovered accidentally while googling the author.

A few poems that stood out to me:

The Blast Furnace by Luis J. Rodríguez
A Foundry's stench, the rolling mill's clamor,
the jack hammer's concerto leaving traces
between worn ears. Oh sing me a bucket shop blues
under an accordion's spell
with blood notes cutting through the black air
for the working life, for the rotating shifts,
for the day’s diminishment and rebirth.
The lead seeps into your skin like rainwater
along stucco walls; it blends into the fabric of cells,
the chemistry of bone, like a poisoned paintbrush
coloring skies of smoke, devouring like a worm
that never dies, a fire that’s never quenched.
The blast furnace bellows out a merciless melody
as molten metal runs red down your back,
as assembly lines continue rumbling
into your brain, into forever,
while rolls of pipes crash onto brick floors.
The blast furnace spews a lava of insipid dreams,
a deathly swirl of screams; of late night wars
with a woman, a child’s book of fear,
a hunger of touch, a hunger of poetry,
a daughter’s hunger for laughter.
It is the sweat of running, or making love,
a penitence pouring into the ladles of slag.
It is falling through the eyes of a whore,
a red-core bowel of rot,
a red-eyed train of refugees,
a red-scarred hand of unforgiveness,
a red-smeared face of spit.
It is blasting a bullet through your brain,
the last dying echo of one who enters
the volcano’s mouth to melt.

Elizabeth, New Jersey by Berta Sánchez-Bello
This, my beautiful city
remains the same.
There is always
a young, blonde matron
with her four-month belly
searching for bargains
needing new sandals
there’s the sweet
would-be whore
ogling at the $1.67 nail polish
sold at C,H, Martin’s;
and the five happy, unlucky bums
sprawled out on the benches
in front of the old, landmark graveyard.
There is always
a fourteen-year-old Adenis
jumping the railroad tracks
regaling his babe;
and some ancient woman
atop a third-floor walkup
nursing her cancerous cat.
At la Palmita
the Cuban workmen
never stop dreaming or swearing.

and this one was lovely, but I can't preserve the formatting because I don't know how to indent with basic html:

There Were Times  by Alma Luz Villanueva
there were times
you and I
were hungry
in the middle of a city of
full bellies
and we ate bread with
syrup on top and we joked
and said we ate dessert morning
noon & night, but
we were hungry—
so I took some bottles to the
store and got milk and
stole deviled ham because
it had a picture of the devil
on it and I didn't care—
my favorite place
to climb
and sit was
Devil's Rock,
no one else
would sit there, but
it was the
highest place
around —
taking care
of each other,
and old lady and a child
being careful
not to need
more than can be
given
we sometimes went to the
place where the nuns lived and
on certain days they would
give us a bag of food, you
and the old Mexican nun talking,
you were always gracious;
and yet their smell of dead
flowers and the rustle of their robes
always made me feel
shame: I would rather
steal.
and when you held my bleeding nose
for hours, when I'd become
afraid, you'd tell me
—Todo se pasa—.
after you died I learned
to ride my bike to the ocean
I remember the  night
we took the 5 McCallister
to the ocean and it was
storming and frightening
but we bought frozen chocolate bananas
on a stick and ate them
standing, just you and I
in the warm, wet night —
and sometimes I'd wonder why
things had to pass and I'd
have to run as fast as I could
till my breath wouldn't let me
or climb a building scaffold to the
end of its steel or
climb Rocky Mountain and
sit on Devil's Rock
and dare the devil
to show his face
or ride my bike till the
end of the streets hit
sand and became ocean
and I knew
the answer, mamacita, but
I wouldn’t even say it to
myself.

grandmother to mother to
daughter to my daughter,
the only thing that truly
does not pass is
love —
and you
knew it.

 A complete list of the poets in this collection:

Jack Agüeros
Miguel Algarín
Alurista (Alberto Baltazar Urista)
Julia Álvarez
Gloria Anzaldúa
Naomi Ayala
Jimmy Santiago Baca
Ruth Behar
Richard Blanco
Bárbara Brinson Curiel
José Antonio Burciaga
Julia de Burgos
Rafael Campo
Ana Castillo
Sandra Castillo
Carlota Caulfield
Lorna Dee Cervantes
Lucha Corpi
Carlos Cumpían
Abelardo "Lalo" Delgado
Martín Espada
Blas Falconer
Alicia Gaspar de Alba
Lourdes Gil
Rodolfo "Corky" Gonzales
Ray Gonzáles
Franklin Gutiérrez
Victor Hernández Cruz
Carolina Hospital
Angela de Hoyos
Gabriela Jáuregui
Wasabi Kanastoga
Tato Laviera
Caridad de la Luz (La Bru-j-a)
Demetria Martínzez
Julio Marzán
Pablo Medina
Rubén Medina
Nancy Mercado
Pat Mora
Elías Miguel Muñoz
Achy Obejas
Judith Ortiz Cofer
Ricardo Pau-Llosa
Willie Perdomo
Gustavo Pérez-Rirmat
Pedro Pietri
Miguel Piñero
raúlsalinas
Alberto Álvaro Ríos
Tomás Rivera
Luis J. Rodríguez
Benjamín Alire Sáenz
Luis Omar Salinas
Ricardo Sánchez
Berta Sánchez-Bello
Gary Soto
Carmen Tafolla
Gloria Vando
Chiqui Vicioso
Evangelina Vigil Piñón
Alma Luz Villanueva

[❄Elsa Frost❄ · Rating 2 out of 5]

Wooowww, we really got a good look into Latinx perspective.

Sarcasm aside, I think as far as the racial perspective, it was pretty well done. There are European Latinxs, Indigenous Latinxs, African Latinxs, Mixed-Race Latinxs, et al. They did well in representing that.

BUT as far as ethnically Latinx and the different ethnicities? This probably should have been called, "An Anthology of Mexican and Caribbean Poetry," because there was practically nothing beyond that (like, two Salvadorean authors...?). But I wanted a more in-depth perspective. I didn't want to see just the perspective I understand (Caribbean) and the perspective most commonly displayed in the U.S. when we say "Latino" (Mexican). I wanted to see more variety. How is it for the Columbian poet? The Venezuelan poet? How about the Brazilian poet? (Note: Brazilians aren't Hispanic, but are still generally considered Latino) How about Hondurans? Guatamalans? Argentines/Argentinians? And every other Latinx perspective? I wanted more of that variety displayed. Not necessarily from every single country because that would probably take too long, BUT. As this book stands, it seemed more like a collection of Mexican and Caribbean Poetry, and not the general, whole Latinx population. And believe me, we ARE different.

Overall, the poetry was so-so. Some good pieces, some not-so-great pieces.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Looking out, Looking in is a definitive anthology of Latino poetry edited by William Luis, whose scholarly yet accessible overview of the evolution and major concerns of the movement is required reading for serious students of its impact. Focusing on poets writing mainly in English (as their works broaden the national canon), Luis samples broadly, from hard-hitting Chicana feminist work by Gloria Anzaldúa and Carmen Tafolla to the complex verse of Benjamin Alire Sáenz and Gloria Vando, and a host of other amazing authors in between. Topics range from celebrations of culture, character sketches, diatribes against oppression, dirges for lost or stolen identities, love songs, hymns, and remembrances. Most represented are Mexican-Americans, but Puerto Rican-, Cuban- and Dominican-American poets are also featured in what is easily one of the best collections of Latino literature available.

[Cheryl · Rating 3 out of 5]

Gloria Anzaldúa refers to this space as a borderland/frontera, where different cultures come together, coexist, intermingle and convey new meaning and signification. Tato Laviera defines it as “nideaquinideallá” (neither from here nor there), thus suggesting that no place is also a location of identity.

As I have also argued, Latino is also a Spanglish word; it is formed from the popular English word Latin. The word is borrowed from the English and pronounced in Spanish with a final “o” to produce the hybrid Latino, which coincides with the spelling of the Spanish latino (whose vowel sounds are much fuller) but is pronounced not with a Spanish but with an English intonation.

Important compilation but very narrow focus of pain and anger.

Julia Alvarez

…yet I’ve labored with my heart to outlast the heart
with this thing I am creating out of love.
Sometimes the words are so close I am
more who I am when I’m down on paper
than anywhere else as if my life were
practising for the real me I become
unbuttoned from the anecdotal and
unnecessary and undressed down
to the figure of the poem, line by line,
the real text a child could understand.
Why do I get confused living it through?
Those of you, lost and yearning to be free,
who hear these words, take heart from me.

Jimmy Santiago Baca

I have been lost from you, Mother Earth.
No longer does your language of rain wear
away my thoughts, nor your language of fresh
morning air wear away my face, nor your language
of roots and blossoms wear away my bones.
But when l return, I will become your child again,
let your green alfalfa hands take me, let your maíz
roots plunge into me and give myself to you again,
with the crane, the elm tree and the sun.

“ I Was My Own Route" by Julia de Burgos

I wanted to be like men wanted me to be:
an attempt at life;
a game of hide and seek with my being.
But I was made of nows,
and my feet level on the promissory earth
would not accept walking backwards
and went forward, forward,
mocking the ashes to reach the kiss
of new paths.

At each advancing step on my route forward
my back was ripped by the desperate flapping wings
of the old guard.

But the branch was unpinned forever,
and at each new whiplash my look
separated more and more and more from the distant
familiar horizons;
and my face took the expansion that came from within,
the defined expression that hinted at a feeling
of intimate liberation;
a feeling that surged
from the balance between my life
and the truth of the kiss of the new paths.

Already my course now set in the present,
I felt myself a blossom of all the soils of the earth,
of the soils without history,
of the soils without a future,
of the soil always soil without edges
of all the men and all the epochs.

And I was all in me as was life in me...

[Brandy · Rating 5 out of 5]

In a vivid amalgamation of personal narratives and communal histories, Looking Out, Looking In: Anthology of Latino Poetry by William Luis gives people an option to hear diverse literature that reflects Latino reality in America. This anthology contains many excellent poems that represent the Latino population’s multiculturalism, challenges, and tenacity, thereby contributing to today’s American literature. Luis not only has created quite an impressive collection that is rich in the representation of Latino culture but also actively engaged the socio political issues that Latinos encounter in the United States.

Julia Alvarez's poem "Roots" in the anthology is one of the classics. This peom relates to the idea of culture and people’s desire to return to their native country. The tone of the poem is sad and melancholy. The poet brings the focus back into her current life and mixes her childhood memories with the fact of living in a foreign country. This sets the theme for the collection and includes issues to do with displacement and identity.

[bymishie]

Rating & Review to come! #51

[Sydney · Rating 4 out of 5]

There's some great poetry in here. A few of the poems are entirely in Spanish with no translation--but only a few. A bit more information about each poem would have been nice, such as the original date of publication.

[Mills College Library]

811.5408 L8635 2012