Bilingual Press/Editorial Bilingiie Studies in Mary M. Editorial Bo: Address CONTEMPORARY CHICANO FICTION A CRITICAL SURVEY Edited by Vernon E. Lattin \gual Press/Editorial Bilingte BINGHAMTON, NEW YORK 19486Tomas Rivera’s A; ropriation of the Chicano Past fo other Chicano n Chicano by Richard Vasqu: hing house, Quinto S: d Vasquez’ Rivera's book Lost Year" is a Brief aneedote, now directed backward (et cerns of the the thirteen anecdote Atthe end, the entire experience is synthesized and brought central character. uthor' alter egRALPH F. GRATEDA we two fram year was lost,” and who at the end discovers “t thing.” Though ir may be conjectured that this cents rect and es the central tence. The various persons of th scape of these lives, belong uns » however, re rather that ories, the experiences and the land: istakably co the hero's past. The en the general experience, communal and ind. personal ion to the book, Herminio Rios observes that “el pue becomes the central character. It is the anonymous and collective voice of the people we hear” (p. xvi). He is correct. The central figure. Steuc- , how. hematical is de-emphasized (itis no acci nameless). The experience of the book is fin f the selections have an uncanny emblematic them-particularly the frame-pieces—emphatical cor symbolic interpretation. Even in the two frame iscovering and expressing his own subjective reality, bur that of a Mexican American in the significant process of discover- ing and culture. y. At the beginning he is confused, alone, frightened and disoriented. He is che ofte for whom the year is lost ‘The succeeding twelve stories and thirveen anecdotes compose his ef- fort to reclaim a past. At the end of the book he has become the syn thesizer and commentator, t would like to have “long enough arms,” so that he “could hug them. al. Though there is no attempt to shape a strict correspondence between specific months and particular last anecdote is set in December. This eye fectively to delineate the cyclic APPROPRIATION 0 5 farmworkers’ lives as they yearly retrace the same roads ¢o the same fields, from Texas and cotton in the winter months to Utah, Minne- ‘Throughout the book tension is created between the opposing values of resignation and rebellion as the people are shown enduring the re hardships of the present, and as they anticipate theie future. , but not always, these differing values break down along gen- cexational lines. The older people—parents and grandparents—are usually fering a nty-year-old srandson that he is “very stupid” for wanting “the next ten years of his life to pass instanely so that he would know what had happened in his life” (p. 87); by che older speaker who advises the young student s children time after time to and by the father, knowing mand m have learned to sta n Rivera's book we of depriva lonial and agai in scho field labor. foes not exist. There in anger at the su superstitions of his parents and learns that the de isthe boy in“... a blasphemer. And characteris We Arrive,” w cries out in his heart: cofa-biteh’ life. This is ehe last the way. Just as $001 id something to do d a goddamn animal” (pp. 158-159) In the p ‘One of these days 32, gains its full force from its juxtaposition with where [don’t have to work like acy of is anxiety, he then I screw idle it may actus16 RALPH F. ORAJEDA the mi armé, who thinl The affirmation in this book, however, endent on any fi- nal resolution of the tension created by the two differing stances of resignation and rebellion. Rivera's work, after all, is nota transient book luring book of discovery. The question of “proper” ‘or improper” responses to social conditions isa false one, inappropriate which che work is created. The substancial afi mation of this book: rests on he reality discovered and depicted by the author. And this process of discovery is given a thoughts of a concerned wife and mother with a chi only of helping her husband in the fields when they not de the narrative heme is laid out in the four brief paragraphs compris: ing the introductory selection, “The Lost Year." There Ri s the language of the dream—or at least language suagestive of a deeper realty than what is ordinarily accepted as objective fact—t petus is pe state the teuism that personal and social identity is never a tprobles until itis threatened. As Frantz of his own culeure, and his attempes at re symptomatic of the “realization of the danger tiog his last moorings and of breaking adi the native moves the direction of his true self, be serious psycho-affective injuries and the result will be individuals without an anchor, without a horizon, colorless, stareless—a race of angels” rift is “the 's metaphor for this felt sense of breakin; lost year.” The confusion and general disorientation brought on by the sense of "that year [that] was lost to him” began for the protagonist “when he would hear someone cal He would turn around, to see who was c ways making a complete turn, always ending ‘And that was why could never find out who it was that was cal why he was being called. He would eve heard, self before completi af ‘out that he had been calling himself. That was the way the lost year began” (p. 3). His confusion and fear have their sourc he himself who has been ‘calling.” The full the realization that it is ications of that APPROPRIATION OF THE PAST uz tion, however, are not In his begi what Rivera describes as che hero's seeing and hearing —d stories and sketches and the thireen anecdotes reveal. The cun fect is a felt sense of struggle “Why is it that we are here on earth as though buried alive?” asks that young protagonist of the title sory, upon hearing che moans of father, who has suffered a sunstroke in the suffocating heat of the within the two lives of the char- acters. There is no attempt to relate id explicitly. That they are related only in time by the metaphor of “the lost year, tnd in space by the fields and colonias in Texas and the unspet north suggests, again, ic and indiv “framed” selections: a desperate cl tion and suffering, and the s from an objective and detached point of view, a rechnique ‘common to many of the other stories and sketches. Rarely does Rivera rude; the understanding, the judgme are generated out of the narrative situation i sts of an introductory paragraph tween father and child; ewo brief parag ing the child d water and being fragment of dialogue, between two unidenti tants of the barrio, members of what, through the book, q sumes the form of a colonia chorus~a collective Cl standing at times at a distance, describes and judges the actions that are being enacted on the stage. In this story che chorus discusses the fate of the boss after the ker affirms the consequences of that with absolute impunity chey can first speaker says: “I really think he went crazy. You've seen the state118 RALPH F. GRAJEDA And ‘Ac the end, the story refuses to affirm either positio tion is to articulate them both as part of the boo! of chat reality—in all of its harshness and brutalty—is expressed through, lot of the underdogs.” he situation. In other selections works similarly to bring out che stark quality of the lives of these Equally bleak and despairing is the lot of the parents and children in “Lietle Children Burned.” In hopes that one of his children will be- yn and earn thousands of dollar and teaches them to rub the parents are working in the fields, the children accidentally start a fire while playing with the boxing gloves and two of the three chi dren are burned to death in the shack. The chorus that enters at the end provides necess mation, and dispassionately comments on. the cruel irony of everything having burned even the children—except for the boxing gloves: one speaker, in respect if not in awe of Yankee ingenuity, says “the fact is that those people know how to make things ¢ even fire will touch them” (p. 102). the chorus speaks with convincing authority. Res ond: presses an essentially teagic point of view, one that acknowledges th uncertainty of human existence and the profound sense in which one has litle control over what will be: “They're getting over th but I doubt if they wi know when death will Bur one never knows" (p. that ends the sketch affirms that point of view as a community reality the Night of the Blackout” is a love tragedy about two young peo who are temporar xd by their fa migrant stream and "e true to one another ut to Texas where they plan to marry. Rumors reach Ramén about Jua- 3 “cheating” in Minnesota, and when they meet again, they quai rel; heartbroken and in despair Ramon kills himself by grabbing onto a transformer at the electric power station. Distance and objectivity a tragedy. OPRIATION OF THE PAST 19 a's focus on one tangible effect of Ramén’s shes go out all over the community! ‘community there- after speaks of Ramén and Juanica: “They were very much in wouldn't yo 30" (p. 116) The a ity becomes frantic among peo- ple who are continually le for their selfhood and dig ty. That attempt—as it is the subject of Ie is Pa toundress and stand naked in her presence wl spected, and ‘American student who tells him thet he doesn’t like Mex- icans “because they steal.” The person narrator thinking in the present as he walks ion. On his way hom parents—who have high hopes that he lem of t in school the leading character in a movie. of the narrator's shame and anger and provide ironic point r perate desire to disbelieve the reality of his situation, “What if they didn’t expel me? What if they didn't walk home. Reality, howeve: to be denied. Ultimately he rust accept is too severe and too § “Sure they did” (p. 35) re victimized by what does not stop there. ss within. As the narrator of the title story says, either the germs eat us from the inside or the sun from the outside. Always some p. 75). Rivera traces not contours of his characters or in the trucks moving north for che summer, the young people, par~ ticularly, are shown struggling with che "problems" always inherent in the J. Of the twelve selections, four—"His Hand and the earch did not pare and the curious mixture of good and evil in the same person “His in his Pocket," a story about a young from his innocent role in a mace bre crime. The naive first-person narrator is sent by his parents t120 with don Laito and dona Boni, steal in order to sell or give away: the couple are well good reputation in narrator, howeve: 1 people, and have a munity, even among the americanos. The ces the rotcen teeth that surround the his hosts’ goodness to persuade hi they murder a Mexican drifter for the boy to hi © to join in it. During ¢ his money and posse w it away but can't. He wears the worst of i¢ it for a long time, whenever I saw a stranger, I put my hand in my pocket.” Time compassionately repeals his “guile,” but che habit of putting his hand in his pocket, he says, “stayed with me for a long 50). again 2 major theme ing of his first communi of “First Holy Communion." On the alee s 1g a restless night mem- — the narrator, while walking to church, looks through p window to see what is causing the noises he hears, and sees a naked man and woman having sexual intercourse. Tarn between fear and the strange attraction to see more, he intently remains until discovered by the couple and told to go away. He cannot forget what sin of the flesh.” He keeps his priest, 1 arrives home with his godfa sweet bread and chocolate, “everything seemed dif- father and mother—and even che priest and naked on the floor. "I almost wasn’t able to eat the eweet- bread or drink the ind I remember that as all choked up” (p. 9 outside, he recalls the scene at the tailor shop and rive some pleasure from his memory, and even forgets that he the priest. Then, he says, “I felt che same way I did when I heard the mnary talk about the Grace’ of God.” The ambiguity at the end story enriches its meaning. When che boy says “I had a strong But chen I started to think that th ity to put Two pieces in che book that represent, on one level at least, youth's IATION OF THE PAST 12 and*...and id not part.” n “Ie Was a Silvery Night,” after hearing his parents tell of peop! the protagonist becomes ¢ plans his ¢ traditional formula learned from his parents and ne same. Everything was the same. Every that the best thing to do would be hing hap- wz changed” pened. Absolutely nothing appeared and absolutely (p. 62). The devil does not exist, he thinks; but if the that moment he cannot fol his discovery. Later on, however, the evening, he accepts the imp re is no devil” he thinks, “There is nothing, rd in the field had been his own v ition that people who went insane -cause the devil appeared, but voice in the dark, existential s exist, then neither does through with the inexorabl as he reconsiders his expe tion of his discovery: * deliberate manner in which the ding story attempts to verify the d ssion of hatred, he protests against and curses death of his aunt and uncle, father, and the pa jue any hope of any kind.” In the frustration he he refuses to take sol earth feels at his own powerlessness “to do anything, fuses to accept the notion his humanity in the very weariness, despair, and hatred which he feels, Having been conditioned by historical and cultural forces, however, us of a tar ent and determinant final cause. After his father suffers a sunstroke in the fields, he reviles his mother for clamoring for God's mercy. "What do you gain by dk tell me you believe that sort thing helped my God doesn’t even remem- ber us. ... God de ea damn about us poor people" (pp. 75 (pp. 75-76)‘oRayeDa fear prohibit him from cursing God, le alone imagining His absence. “There must not be a God . "he begins, but cannot go on wi thought: "No, better nor say it, what if father should worsen?” The next day his nine-year-old brother has a sunstroke, and as the protagonist carries him home from the fields he cries in anger and ha- tred. Yet at every moment of the emotion that he feels, he draws from it a new integrity. Without kno he stars to swear; and “what had been wa long time. mediately “upon doing it he by time and by his parents." He imagines the earth opening and lowing him—but nothing happens! Instead, he begins to feel the ity of the ground: “He then felt walking on very so ground; ic was harder than he had ever 78). His discovery ~ in the context of , depenclence, and sense of power- lessness—is ss of the heavens hero who mself in the midst of a meaningless and absurd universe. Instead he embraces his freedom, and chat very evening experiences a sense of peace—and very hopes they nurture, hopes that spring from the positions In such a world, artemprs at al ation often serve merely to reinforce one's deprivation. In such a world even anger is preempted This is the theme of “The Portrait,” one of the better stories in Rivera's book, The door-to-door salesmen from San Ant: ose who thrive on the innocence and misfortune of the powerless~converge h with a few lesman who i portraits. As chey wait, chey hopef ses them intimations of having bee anger, goes to San Antonio to search ly the salesman and forces him, upon threat of violence, to do ¢ enlargement of his son. “He had to do it all from memory,” Don APPROPRIATION OF THE PAST of his son. Justice is done. Don Mateo receives what he paid for. “What do you think? How does my son look?” he asks the admiring compadre: ‘quite frankly I don't remember what Chuy looked like anymore. c he was beginning to resemble you, right place .¢ pride, Don Mateo says k so. That's what everyone tells me now. That Chuy resembled me more and more, and that he was beginnning to look like me. There's the portrait. One might say we're one and the same" (p. 145). implicity and powerlessness, Rivera's characters Com: re by force of necessity. “I guess its always best to Rivera's characters says halfheartedly, and—in its various forms—that isthe at ights of grants who broken-down truck go couraged by the hope that when they a is the pathetic anticipation of the ¢ tilled down to a modest longi ately, each is en- Ilbe “better.” There d for my wife; her kid ly bothering her. chicken coop with a cement floor as we did last yeax” (p. 160). And there is the radical resolve of youth to escape altogether the ratcrap of the lis cumulative. Though ly and oue of context, and stories can be read indiv ticular parts of a whole Rivera's work can best be periences, to a context by the consciousness of the central character of the book, who reappears in the concluding selection, "Under the House”—the piece that in combination with the introductory selection, “The Lost Year,” constitutes the fe “Under the House” the collective voice of the community is pre ‘but now ie speaks explicitly to and ehrough the central char- ‘acter. Till now the voices have been the developing expression of what 180 Bs of the depths of his memory; but so read- ly do the stories and sketch that the facr that they constitute mere elements of the protagonist's obscured. Here at the end the reader is remindedpast 15 i at RALPH F. GRAJEDA APPROPRIATION OF THE P? the Chicano social movement depends on the development of a deep un- by the successive voices. There is in other words, an analogy becween aeesadlng of Cieana realty. Rivera coutuiates noubly io ti cad the reader's experience and the protagonist's. For the I perience is regenerative, capped by his instead of losing anything, “he had discovered some- wer and to x ze. To relate this en- mother, and finally re- ‘That was what he had to do, was all. And he became even happier” As.a"book of discovery,” of the bildamgsroman, for the focus of Universerr oF Nesrasia-Lincoun Notes * Pacho (New York: Doubleday, 1959}, Chicano (New York: Doubleday, secognizable not through personal. but rather because they assume~at cano experience—archetypal dim In including “the names of the people in town,” Rivera's book —like Bartolo's poems—performs the significant function of discovering and ‘ultimately appropriating and embr: painful authenticity. The importance of lookin colonial experience of the Chicano protagoni step in his liberation must begin with an understanding of his position, Presumably itis the kind of understanding —howeve that leads the protagonist of Rivera's book, self, toward re-identification with that wt people. The movement in the book is inward collect understanding of the barrio experience as it is— ofits suffering, assuredly, but also in its essential strength, sense of human celebration, Besides being a significant work of art, “.... and the earth did not part” performs a valuable function in using “the past with the intention of ‘pening the future, as an invitation to action and a basis for hope"! of the work because it does not more directly perform the funec- mn of socal protest is shortsighted. The realty discovered and depicted by this author contributes to the Chicano art of self-discovery in a man- her more profoundly effective, aesthetically as well a socially, han much of the explicielrerature of protest thet is being written. The vitality of