Showing posts with label transcript. Show all posts
Showing posts with label transcript. Show all posts

Monday, June 13, 2016

Monarchy in Mexico: The Super Crunchy Conversation with M.M. McAllen About Maximilian and Carlota



It has been a while since I posted the podcast of my super crunchy conversation with historian M.M. McAllen about her very fine narrative history, Maximilian and Carlota: Europe's Last Empire in Mexico. Since one of my own books, The Last Prince of the Mexican Empire, is about this same period, believe it, we got super crunchy in there. 

At long last the transcript is now available!




If you're not familiar with Mexico's most peculiarly glamorous and hyper-complex (and very violent) transnational episode, listen in, you will learn a lot. And even if you already know about Mexico's Second Empire / French Intervention, you're in for a treat yummier than champurrado.

About the Transcripts
Thanks to writer's guru Jane Friedman's wise suggestion to share transcripts of my podcasts, I have begun posting them for both my Conversations with Other Writers series and Marfa Mondays Podcasting Project. Although I do revise the transcripts, no, I don't do them myself-- if I did, I am quite sure every last brain cell would be fried like the proverbial egg on a Mexicali sidewalk! I use CLK Transcription. They do a fine and reasonably priced job, and I warmly recommend them.

About Upcoming Podcasts
So when is the next conversation with another writer? Sometime in 2017, because I am at work on a book about Far West Texas

As for those Marfa Mondays podcasts, which are apropos of the Far West Texas book, stay tuned for Marfa Mondays podcast #21... I am still working on it... Podcasts 22, 23 and 24 have been scheduled and I hope to have a complete draft of the book by the end of this year. In the meantime, I invite you to listen in any time to the previous 20 Marfa Mondays podcasts.

Multitudinous Transcripts of Yore

More transcripts from the Conversations with Other Writers series:
> Rose Mary Salum
> Sergio Troncoso
> Michael K. Schuessler
> Edward Swift
> Sara Mansfield Taber
> Solveig Eggerz
This is an ongoing occasional series. Another will be available in 2017.

Selected interview transcripts from the Marfa Mondays Podcasting Project:
> Raymond Caballero: On Mexican Revolutionary General Pascual Orozco and Far West Texas
> Israel Campos: BBQ Pitmaster in Pecos
> Greg Williams: Gifts of the Ancient Ones, the Rock Art of the Lower Pecos Canyonlands
> Dallas Baxter: This Precious Place
> Michael Stevens et al: Cowboy Songs by Cowboys
> Mary Baxter: Painting the Big Bend
> Paul Graybeal: Marfa's Moonlight Gemstones
There will be 24 in the Marfa Mondays series; 20 have been posted to date. The 21st will be posted shortly.



Your comments are always welcome.

Newsletter? Yes indeed.
It goes out every other month-ish.






Monday, April 18, 2016

Introduction to the Panel with Elizabeth Hay, Lisa See, Luis Alberto Urrea, and Juan Villoro at the San Miguel Writers Conference

READ THIS POST ON THE NEW PLATFORM www.madam-mayo.com

I wasn't planning to post this since it's not a complete essay, only an introduction to a panel, but it has come up in so many conversations since the panel was held this past February, I thought I'd offer it here-- and with links in case you'd like to learn more about these extraordinary writers.



INTRODUCTION TO THE PANEL 
GLOBAL MIGRATION: PEOPLE AND THEIR STORIES
SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE, FEBRUARY 2016




TRANSCRIPT
Good morning, Buenos días! Bienvenido! Welcome! What an joy of a conference this is. If my memory serves me, I participated in what was the very first of these conferences. I know it was more than 10 years ago. And that was an outstanding conference, but wow, it has gotten not only bigger but better and better. What we have here in this conference is unique: A gathering in the heart of Mexico, of writers from Mexico, writers who may or may not be Mexican living in Mexico, writers visiting Mexico, writers from so many different cultures.  
The day before yesterday, here, over there by one of those big white tents, I ran into one of my favorite Mexican writers, who happens to be a native of San Miguel de Allende, and baptized in the Parroquía, that otherwordly gothic church that is impossible to miss. Araceli Ardón. She was on the faculty last year, and some other years. So I mentioned to Araceli that I was going to moderate this panel today on Global Migration: People and their Stories.
Well, why do we write?
And Araceli told me that in his writing workshop, years ago, Carlos Fuentes—who was, without a doubt, one of Mexico’s greatest writers— Carlos Fuentes said something that, like a beacon in the night, had guided her as as writer. In Spanish, Fuentes said: “La literatura tiene que dar voz a los silencios de la historia." 
Literature must give voice to history’s silences. 
As we go on with this panel, I would like to invite you to keep those words of Carlos Fuentes present in your mind.
Global Migration: it’s in the news. We see it, we hear it, we read about it every day. Those of us who are from the US and Canada are keenly aware , on many levels, of our histories with migration, and this includes, in most cases, our own family histories.
For those who are new to Mexico-- and I know that quite a few if you are--an extra special welcome to you.
I’d like to underline something that could be... shall we say... fruitful to keep in mind as we proceed, and that is that Mexico, too, has had and continues to accept important numbers of immigrants. For example, Mexico’s literary figures include many who were immigrants or descendants of immigrants from Spain, of course, but also from Germany and that includes Carlos Fuentesfrom France, Italy, Ireland, Japan, China, Africa, Central America, Cuba, Argentina, Poland (Elena Poniatowska!) and Russia— it’s a long list.
And it also includes immigrants from the Middle East-- that flow of immigrants, from the Middle East, by the way, goes back many, many decades. 
Rose Mary Salum, a Mexican writer of Lebanese descent, recently published a visionary anthology entitled, in Spanish, Delta de las arenas, cuentos árabes, cuentos judíos, a title I would translate as Delta of Sands: Arab and Jewish Short Fiction from Latin America. It is a large and splendid and very interesting book, by the way.
There are also notable flows of migration within Mexico itself. Just to give one example, many people have come from small towns and farms to live in large cities, and in so doing making them larger: Mexico City, Querétaro, Monterrey, Guadalajara, Tijuana... Farm workers, migrant workers, who might go north to Oregon or Florida, also go to the Mexican states of Baja California or Sinaloa.
Another example: Many Mexican artists, professionals and retirees have come from Mexico City have come to live here in San Miguel de Allende—there is quite a bit less traffic, among other attractions. 
And Mexico has indigenous groups from Mayas to Nahuas to Zapotecs, and members of these communities have moved all over the map of the Mexican Republic, and beyond. Of course, thousands of years ago, the ancestors of these peoples immigrated to what is now Mexico by way of the bridge under what is now the Bering Straight. And they too have important and rich storytelling, poetic, and literary traditions.
I myself am an immigrant to Mexico. I came from the US to live in Mexico City 30 years ago. So that’s why all my books are about Mexico. And I also translate Mexican writers, which brings me to a Mexican writer I am very proud to say I have translated: Juan Villoro. It was his short story about Mexican punk rockers that appears in my collection, Mexico: A Traveler’s Literary Companion. 
Juan Villoro is one of Mexico’s most outstanding writers, and it is truly a privilege, a stellar privilege, to have him here with us. 
So now I am going to formally introduce him, as our first speaker. And then, in turn, I will introduce each one of our panel. And then, after each has had the opportunity to speak, for about 10 to 12 minutes, we will take your questions and comments.
The questions at hand are: Why are stories of migration, or stories in some way inspired by migration, so vital? And what is it that elevates them to the level of “literary”? What are the challenges for writers who may be far removed from the culture in respecting their subjects, respecting their own creative process, and, ultimately, respecting their readers? And how is literature itself changing with such infusions?


+ + + 

If you would like to buy an MP3 recording of the entire panel, that is available from the San Miguel Writers Conference here.

P.S. It was at this conference, shortly after this panel, in fact, that I met Texas historian and novelist Carolina Castillo Crimm and she so kindly gave me an inscribed copy of De León: A Tejano Family History. Because I'm writing a book about Texas, I devoured it faster than a plate of Pody's BBQ. I highly recommend it as essential reading for anyone interested in the history of Texas, Northern Mexico, the borderlands, and indeed the United States itself. Check out my Q & A with Carolina Castillo Crimm about De León here.




(Centennial Lecture 2015 for the University of Texas of El Paso)




I invite you to visit my "For Mexicophiles" page here.

Your comments are ever and always welcome.

One of these days my next newsletter will go out. 
I welcome you to sign up here.

Monday, February 08, 2016

On Writing About Mexico: Secrets and Surprises (UTEP Centennial Lecture)

From the transcript of  my lecture "Writing About Mexico: Secrets and Surprises" University of Texas El Paso, Centennial Lecture, October 7, 2015. 

(Podcast coming soon).

My husband, who is Mexican, likes to joke that I missed being born Mexican by five miles. You might guess that means that I was born right here in El Paso—this "City of Surprises," as writer and editor Marcia Hatfield Daudistel calls it. My dad was an artillery officer stationed at Fort Bliss—and I understand that he took some engineering classes here at UT El Paso. So it is a very special honor for me, as a native El Pasoan, to have been invited to speak to you today.

I can't say it's like coming home, because my parents are from Chicago and New York, and when I was still a baby, my dad decided on a career in business, and he took the family out to California—to the part of the San Francisco Bay Area now known as Silicon Valley. Culturally speaking, I'm a Californian.

But back to El Paso—to quote Marcia Hatfield Daudistel again— this "dark-eyed stranger abducted into Texas by the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848."

For me, to be here in El Paso is like coming home in another, deeply meaningful sense. This is a border city. I am a border person. Where others might be... let's say, a little nervous... we border people go back and forth between the U.S. and Mexico with ease, we are oftentimes bilingual, bicultural— or at least we don't blink at some of the more exotic juxtapositions, whether culinary or musical, and the mixed up lingo. I too, have been known to speak my gringa-chilanga version Spanglish—or, I might throw clumps of español—para que me entiendes bien— into my English.

I don't live on the border geographically, but culturally. I mean to say, when I got married 29 years ago, my husband and I moved to Mexico City—his home town, Chilangolandia—and now I have lived in Mexico City for more years than I have lived anywhere else, including California. And I should mention, I don't live in Mexico as a typical expat, coccooned among my fellow Americans and Canadian snowbirds. I am enconsed in a Mexican family, living in a Mexican neighborhood, and I have many very dear Mexican friends and colleagues.

Long story short, over the last three decades of my life, although I remain a U.S. citizen, Mexico has become my world. This is why my books are all about Mexico.


I hope my books might be both beautiful and useful—I write them with as much courtesy for the reader as I can muster. But the truth is, the reason I write them is because I want to delve in and explore the complexity around me, and then, having gained a new level of understanding, tell the story my way. Living in Mexico, very quickly, I learned to distrust the easy assumptions and much of the narrative about Mexico spooned out for us, whether on this side of the border or the other, whether in tourist guides, newspapers, television, paperback novels, movies. And sometimes... even in textbooks.

In Mexico, it is often said that nothing is as it seems. If you halt the show and question— sincerely and energetically question— read the bibliography, and read beyond the bibliography; take the time to interview people, really listen, with both an open mind and an open-heart; go to places and stand there and look around for yourself; roll up your sleeves and dig into the archives... it has consistently been my experience that you will uncover secrets and surprises.

Of course, that could be said about the whole world, from Azerbaijan to Zambia. And El Paso, Texas, itself. But Mexico is what my books are about. I won't stretch your patience to go on about all the books. I'm going to give you but three examples. [CONTINUE READING]



> Your comments are always welcome. Write to me here.






Thursday, November 19, 2015

A Conversation with Sara Mansfield Taber, author of "Born Under an Assumed Name: The Memoir of a Cold War Spy's Daughter"


An age ago-- December 2011, to be exact-- I interviewed one of my favorite writers, literary journalist and poet Sara Mansfield Taber for my Conversations with Other Writers occasional podcast series. Well, it may have taken me almost four years, but today's the day the transcript finally went up onto my website. 


Read and/or listen in any time to the interview with Sara Mansfield Taber (and find show notes) >>here<<.

(In case you were wondering whether I was somehow blessed with 48 hours in the day,  the answer is no, ho ho, I use CLK Transcription, which I found via Debra Eckerling's Write Online! newsletter and I do warmly recommend them. It was Jane Friedman-- another warm recommendation-- who urged me to start posting transcripts of my podcasts.)


You'll notice I've only posted one Conversation with Others Writer podcast this year-- an interview with Rose Mary Salum, the Houston, Texas-based Mexican poet, writer and visionary editor. Why not more? It's not for lack of enthusiasm on my part-- I relish talking with other writers-- but this year I've been putting my podcasting time into my "Marfa Mondays" Podcasting Project and the (related) book I'm writing about Far West Texas, World Waiting for a Dream: A Turn in Far West Texas. 


That said, on a recent foray to San Antonio-- en route to visit the rock art of the Lower Pecos-- I did manage to record an interview for my "Conversations with Other Writers" series with Mary Margaret McAllen, a super crujiente one about her splendid book, Maximilian and Carlota: Europe's Last Empire in Mexico. Look for that podcast to be posted after the holidays.

I call my "Conversations with Other Writers" an "occasional series" because well, it's occasional, and it's occasional because podcasting on occasion beats not doing it at all! 


By the way, if you're interested in learning to podcast, while I may not be the world's Podcasting Poobah with a PhD in Sound Engineering, I do turn 'em out of the oven in my writerly fashion, and I'll tell you how in my podcasting workshop for the San Miguel Writers Conference this February. (You can also pick up my ebook based on my one day workshop for the Writer's Center, Podcasting for Writers & Other Creative Entrepreneurs, over in the Kindle store.)


> Your comments are always welcome. Write to me here.


#1 Sara Mansfield Taber's Born Under an Assumed Name





Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Translating Contemporary Latin American Poets and Writers: Embracing, Resisting, Escaping the Magnetic Pull of the Capital


[Yours Truly and Patricia Dubrava
with a chapbook of my translation of a short story
 by Agustín Cadena. We both translate Cadena.]

For the American Literary Translators Association (ALTA) Conference in Tucson late last month, apart from participating on Mark Weiss's excellent panel "Translating Across the Border," I proposed and chaired a panel that addressed a topic that, in truth, could have been considered for translating poets and writers in any of the populated continents:


Translating Contemporary Latin American Poets and Writers:  
Embracing, Resisting, Escaping the Magnetic Pull of the Capital

>>CONTINUE READING THIS POST ON THE NEW PLATFORM AT WWW.MADAM-MAYO.COM


The panelists were Yours Truly (transcript of my talk follows), Jeffrey C. Barnett, Patricia Dubrava, and Clare Sullivan. In the audience: several very distinguished literary translators (lotus petals upon y'all). The Q & A was extra crunchy, and in true ALTA fashion, in the sweetest way. (Seriously, literary translators, and especially the crowd that regularly attends ALTA conferences, are angelically generous and encouraging. If any of you reading this have ever thought of trying literary translation and/or attending a literary translator's conference, my recommendation is, YES!) 


[LAS TRES AMIGAS: 
Yours Truly, Clare Sullivan, and Patricia Dubrava.]



[Jeffrey C. Barnett, C.M. Mayo, Patricia Dubrava]



Transcript of C.M. Mayo's Remarks 
for the panel on 
Translating Contemporary Latin American Poets and Writers
ALTA, Tucson, Arizona, 
October 31, 2015


I started translating in Mexico City in the early 1990s. Mexico City is Mexico's capital, but it's not analogous to Washington DC or, say, Ottowa, Canada. The megalopolis, "the endless city," as Carlos Monsivaís calls Mexico City, is like Washington DC, New York, Boston, Chicago, Miami and Los Angeles, all piled into one. In other words, its the political capital, financial capital, publishing capital, cultural capital, and television and movie capital. Oh, and business capital, too. Yes, there are other important cities in Mexico, and they have become more important in many ways, and some of them have some excellent writers and poets. But Mexico City is MEXICO CITY.
Back in the early 1990s, the ruling party, the PRI or Partido Revolucionario Institucional or Institutional Revolutionary Party was in power, about to enter the last decade of its more than 70 yes, 70years in power. How did it last so long? There are many answers to that question but the main one relevant for our topic at hand is that the PRI attempted to bring everyone, whether farmers, campesinos, industrialists or intellectuals, and that would include poets and writers, under its own big tent. It had its ways. Stick and carrot or bone, as Mexicans like to say.
You may be aware that after two consecutive presidential administrations under the PAN or the Partido Acción Nacional, over the past decade, Mexico's Presidency has since returned to the PRI. But it's not exactly a return to the past. Not exactly.
I'm not going to get all political on you, I simply want to underline the fact that back in early 1990s, the Mexican literary establishment, concentrated in Mexico City, was heavily influenced by and subsidized by the PRI government. Just to give you a notion of this: If you were to go into a library and look at some back issues of the leading Mexican literary and intellectual magazine of the time of course that would be Octavio's Paz's Vuelta you would see a large number of advertisements from government-owned entities and Televisa, the party-allied television conglomerate. There were literary gatekeepers, as there are everywhere in this world, but in Mexico City at that time, they were ginormously powerful. Octavio Paz was king.
Though Octavio Paz met his maker some years ago, in some ways things remain the same. Mexico City is where it's at. The government still plays an important, though lesser role. Letras Libres, successor to Vuelta, remains a leading magazine of influence, and in fact it does publish some of the best writing you'll find anywhere.
But since the early 1990s there have been political and economic sea-changes in Mexico. Power is more dispersed. Other political parties have become far more powerful. On the right and the left they rival the PRI and on many an occasion, beat the PRI at the ballot box.
And even more than the political and economic changes, the technological changes have been sea-changes. I'm talking about the rise of digital media, from blogging to YouTube, podcasting, Tweeting, FaceBooking, and publishing and by the way, amazon is now in Mexico with www.amazon.com.mx.
To find a Mexican writer to translate, you no longer have to travel to Mexico City and get chummy with the powers that be who can make recommendations and, perhaps, invite the anointed to tea. Now, say, from Boston or Hong Kong or Cleveland, you can follow any given Mexican writer's blog, and comment thereupon. Or, say, send her a Tweet!
I would love to tell you the story of how, in the late 1990s, I started my bilingual magazine, Tameme, which published many Mexican writers, and my experiences with putting together the anthology, Mexico: A Traveler's Literary Companion no easy task, since the idea of the TLC series is to provide writing about the whole country and that would include writing from and about Baja California, Yucatan, Chiapas, Chihuahua...
At present I am translating a batch of Mexican writers: Ignacio Solares, a novelist born in Ciudad Juárez, long based in Mexico City; Agustín Cadena, who was born in the state of Hidalgo and is living in Hungary; Araceli Ardón who was born in San Miguel de Allende and lives in Querétaro; and yet another, Rose Mary Salum, who is from Mexico City and now based in Houston, Texas.
But I don't want to take time from my fellow panelists and what I hope will be a rich question and answer session. The main thing I want to emphasize is that, as literary translators, we can play a powerful role in influencing who and who is not read in English. Who to translate? It's good to ask for advice from the powers that be of the literary establishment in, say, Mexico or Cuba or Chile, and maybe even choose to translate one of them. They might be blast-your-wig-to-the-asteroid-belt fabulous! But we also have to recognize that there are power structures in literary communities, some of them entangled with political structures, and we need to acknowledge and examine, in our own minds, and our own hearts, what part we play in that or choose not to play. And why.


#   #   #




We may have been visiting the southwest this year, but ni modo, after the panel we ambled over to Sinbad's for Iraqi tea and babaganoushe. 

Your comments are always welcome. Write to me here.










(30 second video)

Monday, September 14, 2015

Edward Swift Interview: The Big Thicket, New York, the Orphic Journey, San Miguel de Allende, the Sierra Gorda, and more


From my Conversations with Other Writers Podcast, a new transcript, from the 2012 interview with artist and writer Edward Swift. 


C.M. Mayo: Edward Swift is one of my very favorite writers. I didn't come across his work until fairly recently, however. We met in Mexico City— I think it was in 2009— at an exhibition of our mutual friend, the Mexican painter Mariló Carral. Because Mariló went on about it, I got myself a copy of Edward's memoir, My Grandfather's Finger. And I have to say, it was such a good read that every time the subject comes up I get ridiculously effusive, and I've recommended it to almost every writer I know, and lots of other people, too, and well— we'll be talking quite a bit about this very unusual memoir in the interview.

Edward is also the author of several novels: Splendora, Principia Martindale, A Place With Promise, The Christopher Park Regulars, Mother of Pearl, Miss Spellbinder's Point of View, and most recently, The Daughter of the Doctor and the Saint. I'm going to read to you a little bit from his website, edwardswiftartist.com.

"Edward Swift made his debut as a novelist in 1978 with Splendora, which the Houston Chronicle praised as one of the year's best comic novels. He has since written five other acclaimed novels, as well as a memoir, My Grandfather's Finger.


Of Splendora, The Washington Post says, "Splendora reads like an exuberant fairy tale about a young man's search for himself." And writing in The New York Times book review, Anne Tyler wrote, "Edward Swift has a particular gift for capturing the continuous low musical murmur of small town gossip. He knows how stories seem to grow on their own, drifting almost unnoticeably toward the mythical."

And of A Place With Promise— which received glowing reviews from Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, The Boston Globe, and many others— in the Los Angeles Times Carolyn See (no easy customer, by the way), writes, "A Place With Promise is a dignified, stately, intelligent book, everything a novel should be."

[MUSIC]


C.M. Mayo: It's the morning of February 22, 2012, and I'm in San Miguel de Allende with Edward Swift, and you might hear some chickens crowing, and children playing, and I don't know what. We have a lot of sounds going on here, and that's just the way it is.

We're in his workshop by his house—
 and I'm going to ask a lot of questions about the house, because it has a great story. So Edward, I am so happy to see you! I am so happy to be here to talk to you! This is really a thrill and an honor.


Edward Swift: Well, it's a thrill for me too. What in the world do you want to talk about?

C.M. Mayo: What in the world do I want to talk about? You have so many books. You have so many books! The one I love the most is My Grandfather's Finger, because it's the first one that I read by you. And you have a new novel, The Daughter of the Doctor and the Saint. You have several other novels, Splendora, A Place With Promise, and other books. And you have such an interesting life. But let's talk starting with page three of the essay that you wrote for Gulf Coast.

Edward Swift: What's on page three? I have no idea!

C.M. Mayo: [Laughs] "Come In, Mr. Proust: Remembering Marguerite Young." This is one of the most beautiful essays by a writer about his mentor, about learning to be a writer, that I have ever read.

Edward Swift: Thank you. Marguerite Young was very special to me. I sought her out. I read her book and it spoke to me, and I knew immediately that I had to not only know her, but study with her.

C.M. Mayo: And you studied with her for a long time.

Edward Swift: Four years in class at the New School for Social Research, and outside of the classroom we remained very close for about six years. And I met her for coffee almost every week, sometimes twice a week, down in the Village in New York in a little place called Reichert's, and then later on in a coffee shop called Pennyfeathers. And I was one of Marguerite's children until I was about 35 years old.

C.M. Mayo: So this was in the '70s.

Edward Swift: Yes, the early '70s.

C.M. Mayo: Greenwich Village, New York City.

Edward Swift: Yes.

C.M. Mayo: A very exciting time to be in New York.

Edward Swift: Well, it was the very last of the bohemian period in New York. Bohemian life was still alive in the Village. Now it is not. It is far too expensive now for artists to be able to move into the Village, so it's become very gentrified and full of families, and Wall Streeters, and people with a great deal of money who can afford those old brownstones and old apartment houses that we used to live in that cost nothing.

C.M. Mayo: And now they're several million dollars.

Edward Swift: Now they're several million dollars.

C.M. Mayo: [Laughs] You wrote in this essay that the image of the whale was of supreme importance to her. Quote, "To be swallowed up by the world and regurgitated, reborn with enlightenment, that," she said, "is the way of the artist. Some of you go into the whale but never come out again. Some of you go in and come out, but haven't the slightest idea you've entered another room. You walk through the door without seeing the portal."

You've been an artist for many, many years. You have written book after book after book. Your know, most people want to write a book, and never write it. Or they write it, and then it's such a searing experience they give up. But you have kept at it, and kept at it, and kept at it, and you also make art. You really are an artist, decade after decade. Do you think it's being swallowed up by the whale? 

[CONTINUE READING]