Showing posts with label urrea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label urrea. Show all posts

Saturday, September 17, 2016

#505 Chamelta- Luis Alberto Urrea


#505 Chamelta- Luis Alberto Urrea

Private Arnulfo Guererro was shot in the head by the last bullet fired during the battle of Chamelta. His buddies try to save his life as they huddle around the camp fire. Their dog is uneasy as he sees the Private's last thoughts and dreams escape out of his head feeding those around him—literally feeding.

This is a short but touching piece about war, camaraderie and death.

Notable Passage: “They’d come out of the mining lands of Rosario, Sinalao, full of revolution and fun. Men were raised to fight and enjoy fighting. None dared admit they were weary of it, weary of fear, and each had learned to dream, and dreamed at all hours—dreamed while sleeping, while awake and marching, while fighting. Only dreaming carried them through the unending battles.”


Sunday, June 26, 2016

#424 Young Man Blues- Luis Alberto Urrea


#424 Young Man Blues- Luis Alberto Urrea

The sins of the father fall on the son’s shoulders. Joey takes care of his drunken mother while his father is in prison. I laughed at the first line of this one:

“It sounded like a vacation spot: Pelican Bay.”

Of course it isn’t really funny at all. It’s tragic. His father was in the most notorious, maximum-security prison this country has. He was a gangbanger. His motorcycle gang, The Visigoths, were trying to take territory that wasn’t theirs. There were shootings, now Joey is left in its wake. He looks through his father’s gear including Nazi paraphernalia and club jackets.

“He knew that if he stepped outside wearing the vest, he’d be dead in an hour. It gave the colors a weird sense of power.”

He didn’t want any of that, but he held onto it because it was his fathers. Butchie, a member of his dad’s club wants Joey to hand over a gun, but he won’t.  Now he’s in trouble. He can get out of trouble if he helps Butchie rob Joey’s employer. He won’t do that either. Now he’s really in trouble. Salvation might have come too late.


Tuesday, May 31, 2016

#397 The White Girl- Luis Alberto Urrea


#397 The White Girl- Luis Alberto Urrea

2-Short was a local graffiti artist, more of a tagger. His tag II-SHT could be seen big and present all over the neighborhood. One day he found a way into an old wreck yard full of broken down vehicles. In one of them, he found blood stains and a cracked windshield where the head of someone went through. He found hairs, of the dead person, it came from a white girl. An artist represents the things that effects them most.



Thursday, May 12, 2016

#376 Mr. Mendoza’s Paintbrush- Luis Alberto Urrea


#376 Mr. Mendoza’s Paintbrush- Luis Alberto Urrea

“Mr. Mendoza had taken the controversial position that he was the Graffiti King of All Mexico. But we didn’t want a Graffiti King.”

The town of Rosario was an old town, Its history ran deep and was everywhere to see. Sometimes if you forgot, it would literally pop out of walls or fall from the sky. But you can’t have the past without the present, and the present is where Mr. Mendoza lived.

I think some of this story went over my head. Its beautifully written, especially the writing of childhood, which can be tricky. I enjoyed it as I’ve enjoyed all of this collection thus far, however with this one I’m left feeling like I missed something. I feel like the symbolism is just out of my grasp; like I just woke up from a dream and the harder I try to remember it, the quicker I lose it.

Notable Passage: “I dreamed of the distant bend in the river where I could fine all these floating things collected in neat stacks, and perhaps a galleon full of rubies, and perhaps a damp yet lovely fifteen-year old girl in a red dress to rescue, and all of it speckled with little gray flecks of turtle skin. Sadly for me I found out that the river only lead to swamps that’s oozed out to sea”



Saturday, April 9, 2016

#345 Amapola- Luis Alberto-Urrea


#345 Amapola- Luis Alberto-Urrea

An eighteen year old boy falls in love with his best friend's sister. The two friends are high school outcasts, Goth kids and inseparable. Popo, aka The Pope is Mexican and lives with his Uncle, they are rich and probably drug cartel connected. The narrator is a poor American and comes from a broken home.

When he falls for Popo’s sister, it doesn’t go over well, but like most forbidden love, it persists and will not be denied. Popo comes around, but his Uncle, and worse his father who visits to check on this “gringo” after his precious daughter, have other ideas. In the end love will be tested, lives changed, and innocence lost. Isn’t that how these all end?

Urrea has a great, natural, story telling pace, reminds me of David Eggers a little. Many of the authors I read for this project I will probably not read past this blog, but I will certainly try to pick up Urrea’s longer fiction works. I can see why this collection was a Pulitzer finalist.


Sunday, March 27, 2016

#333 Taped to the Sky- Luis Alberto Urrea


#333 Taped to the Sky- Luis Alberto Urrea

Hubbard is in a bad way. His wife, the woman he bought a car and an education for, the woman he just helped get through an AA program, left with her sponsor. He decided to take the car back and drive his troubles away.

South to Louisiana, West to Texas, North to Colorado, etc…“This whole chunk of the map was written in poems and liquor bottle labels.”

His grief subsided with each state, each dumb roadside attraction, each violence run-in with the local drunks. As the sky got bigger, his head got clearer:

“There were patterns moving across the sky, high, where small scallops of cloud shimmered like mother-of-pearl. He felt a part of the great becoming, the revelation of the West.”

Sometimes when you feel abandoned, maybe you’ve really been set free. Sometimes, you still need to be taught a lesson.



Wednesday, March 9, 2016

#312 Carnations- Luis Alberto Urrea


#312 Carnations- Luis Alberto Urrea

This was as short one, kind of like an intermezzo. It’s a family coming home from their mother’s funeral. Sometimes the more profound moments in life, the things that sum up our existence, things that put us in perspective, are short interactions like this.

It’s sweet, sad and a little bit amusing.