Intergalactic Travels: poems from a fugitive alien is an experimental poetry collection that renders an intimate portrait of growing up undocumented in the United States. Through the use of collages, photographs, emails, and immigration forms, Alan Pelaez Lopez formulates theories of fugitivity that position the Trans*Atlantic slave trade and Indigenous dispossession as root causes of undocumented immigration. Although themes of isolation and unbelonging are at the forefront of the book, the poet doesn’t see belonging to U.S. society as a liberatory practice. Instead, Pelaez Lopez urges readers to question their inheritance and acceptance of “settler rage, settler fear, and settler citizenship,” so that they can actively address their participation in everyday violences that often go unnoticed. As the title invokes, Intergalactic Travels breaks open a new galaxy where artists of color are the warriors that manifest the change that is needed not only to survive, but thrive.
Alan Pelaez Lopez is a poet, and installation and adornment artist from Oaxaca, Mexico, and an assistant professor at the University of California, Davis. Their debut visual poetry collection, "Intergalactic Travels: poems from a fugitive alien" (The Operating System, 2020), was a finalist for the 2020 International Latino Book Award. They are also the author of the chapbook "to love and mourn in the age of displacement" (Nomadic Press, 2020), and the editor of "When Language Broke Open: An Anthology of Queer and Trans Black Writers of Latin American Descent" (University of Arizona Press, 2023).
very very generative collection interested in (and daring to claim) its own humanity. thinking lots about audre lorde's "the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house," and how often I have set out for work that approaches, reclaims, and engages with marginalized identity with literary excellence affirmed by the dominant narratives of white academia,, the institution of. alan pelaez lopez is,, without a doubt, very much building their own tools.
to survive fugitivity is to experiment with everyday forms of escape. to survive fugitivity is to hold joy, grief, anger, and pleasure all within the same hour. it’s not romantic. escape(/ing) tends to hurt, and more often than not, escape(/ing) is unrecognizable. to survive fugitivity is to lean on that which punctures the body, fragmenting the idea that the body is ours, which is to say, to survive fugitivity is to experiment with the (re)making, (re)shaping, and (re) imagining of our bodies each day.
This was an amazing collection of art. One review of this said that if feels more like a gallery than a poetry collection, and I agree! Reading as an immigration lawyer it was so interesting to see the application process challenged and made into art. It helped me empathize more with what my clients are going through. And I like the explicit ties to settler colonialism at every turn. The ending with the interview was also a very humanizing experience of Alan, which was a nice note to end on!
This collection was more like an impressive art gallery than a poetry collection. It was interesting and artistic and shocking and I was introduced to concepts I had never even thought about. If you're looking for a collection of poetry, this might not be the right one, but if you're interested in modern art and what it means to be an immigrant or to look different or be at risk every day of your life, Intergalactic Travels achieves all of that extremely well.
One of the most experimental and multimedia poetry books I’ve seen, done brilliantly, and by the authors note, as a result of raw need. I was especially struck by the claiming of emotional space in sterile state forms for asylum. The multimedia nature of this art allows Alan Pelaez Lopez to share their Black and Indigenous undocuqueer experience with their body and emotions fully centered.
“to survive fugitivity is to experiment with everyday forms of escape. to survive fugitivity is to hold joy, grief, anger, and pleasure all within the same hour. it's not romantic. escape/ing) tends to hurt, and more often than not, escape/ing) is unrecognizable. to survive fugitivity is to lean on that which punctures the body, fragmenting the idea that the body is ours, which is to say, to survive fugitivity is to experiment with the (re)making, (re)shaping, and (re) imagining of our bodies each day. ain't that intergalactic?” (94)
“As marginalized people, we have been tasked with the responsibility to remember: remember that this was never the way life was supposed to be; remember that even if we cannot locate home, we can always imagine and craft such a place; remember that we are not alone & that our ancestors have left us blueprints of how to resist, survive and thrive, and those blueprints lay in the power of art.
In order to win the revolution, we are going to need artists” (99)
“is the ocean a country?” (21)
“often, I think about the failure of language: how does one create verbs and adjectives to describe terror?; … Language, I do not speak. I scream.” (12)
“…she encouraged my poetry. I believe that the poem offered my mother potential relief: despite crossing a border, my mind was still able to imagine a future outside of our material reality. My mother was my first poetry teacher and for that, I am greatful [sic]. Her gift to me was an excess of vision. My mother’s vision for our survival was to cross the border, so we did.”