A Writer’s Life with Kevin O’Connell

I'm honored to host Kevin O'Connell and introduce his latest novel in The Derrynane Saga series, Two Journeys Home: A Novel of Eighteenth Century Europe. He writes about Irish nobility and a relatively unknown aspect of Irish and European history (at least to me). The fallen Irish aristocracy served at the courts and in the armies of Catholic Europe. And, yes, they got to visit Vienna and Versailles. Tell us about your journey as a writer, Kevin.

As Beyond Derrynane and Two Journeys Home continue to be more widely-read, a number of questions have been posed to me, about writing them as well as about my writing in general. I have chosen to elaborate on several of the more intriguing ones.

     What are my goals as a writer.

 At the outset, unlike many later-on-in-life beginning authors, it was not a long-deferred dream of mine to write – certainly not novels.  Yet, once I began – on rather a lark, I must admit – it quickly became a passion, and, as “the first book” became the first book in what is now the Derrynane Saga, with the second one now recently published and the third underway – the passion has evolved into what I have now come to regard as being my life’s work.

Quite candidly, my initial goal – once I had the barest of story lines – was to see if I could indeed do it, that is, to actually write fiction, create characters and give them lives and voices, and tell their stories. The first reviews were very good and my goal has evolved into creating a series of books, a lengthy saga, worthy of the complex, colourful characters and of the tumultuous time and the challenging, oft-times dangerous settings in which they dwell.  

An equally important goal remains to do all of this – and more – as a storyteller, in a manner so as to make the books an enjoyable experience for both the casual reader as well as the true devotee of historical fiction. Especially in terms of the latter audience, my aim remains to have the history and the fictional tales meld well, such that it would be virtually impossible for the majority of readers to successfully parse which events actually occurred or did not.

Lastly, my hopes and my goals remain to have the books – and, indeed, once the Derrynane Saga is finally completed, the further work that I plan to undertake –  continue to be well-regarded as quality, accessible historical fiction, recognised as being meticulously-researched, beautifully-written and enjoyable.

   What are the boundaries you have pushed as a writer? 

Whilst I do not believe, nor do I pretend that my work has shattered any significant literary boundaries, in that the Derrynane Saga is the first fictional treatment, relating stories of members, and of families of what was referred to by then as the fallen Gaelic Aristocracy, as they served at the courts and in the armies of Catholic Europe in the Eighteenth Century. Though understanding that the topic is narrow I was indeed rather surprised to discover that it had never before been treated in fiction.

Whilst the books are not a specific chronicle of all courts – nor anything approaching an exhaustive even fictional treatment of the subject, I believe the Saga does succeed in opening a literary door onto a relatively unknown aspect of Irish and European history in the Eighteenth Century.

What is my writing style and how I have adapted it to work for my story?

At the risk of appearing glib, this is relatively easy– I had no distinguishable writing style before I began to work on these books, so I was not compelled to adapt any in-place pre-existing style to writing the books of the Saga.

This said, in reflecting on how I wished the reader to experience the stories, from the very beginning I had consciously decided to write “formally” (some would say “archaically”) – in some approximative suggestion of Eighteenth Century written communications, such that the gap between the descriptive text written in the Twenty-first Century and the dialogue of the characters would not be quite so jarring. Consistent with this decision, I write in “Irish (or “English”) English – both in terms of spelling (“colour”) and usage “whilst”).

In terms of dialogue, I make every effort to have the characters – be they Irish at the courts in Vienna or Versailles – or the nobility or royalty at those locations – speak and interact the way I believe they did. In the same vein, servants – whether at Derrynane or Versailles – may be viewed as subtly speaking differently than educated courtiers.

I frequently use correspondence as one means of telling the story, providing details and insights into what is occurring or the thoughts, hopes, concerns of the writer; in doing so I have worked hard to reasonably assure that any such letter is written as it would have been by the writer in the time and place of its composition.

I have, I believe successfully, largely avoided verbal stereotypes, I have employed the Irish “lilt” sparingly, recognising that, for example, that, despite that they were native Irish speakers and possessed at least to some natural degree the “brogue”,  the O’Connells were, for their station, sophisticate and highly-educated; they thus most likely spoke in tone and manner little different than similar lesser aristocrats would in England at the time.

I have selectively used non-English – Irish Gaelic, French and German – language for emphasis and./or to set the mood or tone of a scene or setting.  In replicating, in English, the cadence or manner of a native-French or German speaker, I have been as subtle as possible in choosing phraseology, such that an English-speaking reader could easily conclude that the character was speaking wholly in German, for example. (I find this to be less invasive than constantly reminding the reader “. . . she said in French . . .”

Comments made by an individual who’d read literally the first fifty pages of the original manuscript, “I can see the setting, where the characters are! I can hear them speaking!” had a profound impact on me as I was attempting to determine the importance, the appropriate degree of descriptive language to use. My conclusion was, especially in this genre – where virtually everything is different from life in the current century – that descriptions were critical and that details – from the largest, to the smallest – provide readers with the opportunity to say what had been said to me, “I can see the people, where they are, I can hear them.” As I write,  I make every effort to use vivid language so as to make the setting visible to the reader, permitting her to sense that she is at a ball, aboard a ship or in the saddle.

I have thus come to employ significant vividly-descriptive language to place the reader on the beach at Derrynane, in the courtyards and the interior of the Spanish Riding School in Vienna, amongst the riders on a journey by horseback and in carriages, coaches:

The horses’ bells gaily marked their progress to the huge, ornate white building that housed the renowned Winter Riding School, also known as the Spanish Riding School, as it had thus been named for the horses that originated from the Iberian Peninsula during the sixteenth century and were considered especially noble and spirited, as well as willing and suited for the art of classical horsemanship. Eileen learnt that, in 1729,the empress’s father, Emperor Charles VI, had commissioned the magnificent structure in which they rode, and it finally had been completed in 1735. She had immediately fallen in love with the edifice, its history and all that went on within, to the extent that she had come to regularly smile at the massive portrait of the monarch, mounted on a magnificent white charger, which gracedone end of the splendid riding hall. . .

From her first days in Vienna Eileen had found herself frequently employing the term magnificent to the buildings, rooms,churches, opera house—somuch so that she’d inquired as to the appropriate German usage; advised that there were some thirteen—some tongue-twisting—ways of expressing the characterisation, she settled. It was as a result of her near instantaneous feelings for the Riding School that she would quickly learn to, meaning truly magnificent. The phrase came to mind virtually every time she entered the riding hall itself: its galleries buttressed by,despite their size, almost delicate Corinthian columns, massive and dazzlingly white, the hall illuminated on gloomy winter afternoons by a series of extraordinary crystal chandeliers, their dozens of candles flickering, as if each flame danced to its own unique tune. The crowning intricately-fashioned vaulted ceiling above the lights was an extraordinary work of art in itself.

In this vein, to the extent I deem necessary, and, thus on more than a few occasions I employ a minute level of description – including sounds,odours, the weather:

Mainly, however, she rode in blissful silence, the immediate atmospherealive with the soft creaking of coach wheels and springs, jangling tack and the steady rhythm of thudding hooves—the gentle squeak of her own body,her bottom, her thighs against the thick leather of Bull’s saddle, all to her comforting, timeless sounds. A light wind came up as they were perhaps two miles gone from the Hofburg, diffusing the morning’s thin cloud cover; the sun was growing brighter, warmer. More than once, she lifted her face to it, feeling the rays on her cheeks, the gentle breeze tossing her hair,sensing her spirits rising—beginning to feel in a way as frisky as Bull continued to behave.

Thank you, Kevn. I look forward to your next book in the series. 

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Character Highlights and the Dark Heartbeat of The Sandoval Sisters' Secret: Interview

Appeared July 7, 2014 in layeredpages. Interview by Stephanie Hopkins.* 

 In this interview the strengths and weaknesses of the Sandoval sisters are explored in all their exotic nuance.  As an experiment, I'm going to post Stephanie's question regarding each Sandoval sister on an individual basis, followed by a question she asked regarding The Secrets.  I'll start with Pilar and move on to deeper issues:

Stephanie: Pilar wants the freedom to pursue whatever she wants when she wants it.There are usually consequences to the decisions and actions we make in life that affect others around us when we want to just do what we want. Are there consequences for Pilar and how does her behavior affect the people around her?

Sandra: The youngest Sandoval sister, Pilar, had a taste of independence few women received in 19thcentury New Mexico, but just because she liked it doesn’t mean she was willful, spoiled or flamboyant. If radar had been in use in the Territory of New Mexico circa 1840, Pilar would have flown right under it. If anything, she’s guileless and assumes that others are equally open. This aspect of her personality is what gets her into trouble. Her mother died giving birth to her and left Oratoria, the eldest adopted sister, in charge of her sisters. She had been bought by the Sandovals for a sack of flour when she was eight-years-old. 

     Oratoria did not mistake Pilar’s wildness for impetuousness, but rather thought it a gift. When Pilar is betrothed to the much older Geraldo, she doesn’t run off or commit some heedless act-she accepts her fate.

     Geraldo is the perfect man for her sister, one who also prizes her “non-traditional” characteristics. My readers love Geraldo and I’m frequently asked where they can meet a man like him. He’s patient and knowledgeable about women. He doesn’t want her to have children while she’s still so young. This necessitated researching birth control methods in that time period. All of which Pilar and Geraldo use. A lot.

     Oratoria tells him, “Witches do not ride broomsticks on moonlit nights. They prefer stallions.” Pilar, on the other hand, scoffs at the whole notion of witchcraft, even when she personally suffers from its effects.

And a bit of the dark heartbeat of the story:

Stephanie:  What are some of the prejudices and superstitions you feel that these women in your story face?

Sandra: My maternal grandmother was a Sandoval. In her home, there were santos, statues of saints and little altars, in every room. Many homes in Santa Fe were the same. Sounds all holy, doesn’t it? The flip side to this idolatry was a deep-seated belief that demons and witches live amongst us. In Northern New Mexico ancestor stories were interwoven with tales of witchcraft. The ritualistic power of feverish faith could be as simple as making the sign-of-the-cross over a whiff of bad luck, or carrying a wooden cross and wearing a crown of thorns in a secret ceremony, or perhaps self-flagellation. These same cultural aspects were even more evident at the time of my story.

     Back then, a whirlwind of change had descended on Santa Fe when both Texas and the U.S. decided they wanted to control the Santa Fe Trail. The people in the far northern reaches of New Spain had been isolated for two hundred years. They lacked education, and their livelihood was subsistence based. Many of their ancestors had fled the Inquisition in Spain or been banished to the remote outer regions of New Spain. 

     In my story, the Sandovals are set apart: “. . . others feared the awakening of dark powers for which the Sandovals had always been suspect. Not only had they acquired wealth in a desert frontier, they had survived Indians and epidemics while others perished. They could read, too, and their home was sumptuous with white marble pier tables, Brussels carpets and wood floors. This, while many New Mexicans lived in one-room adobe hovels alongside their goats. To make matters worse, they were handsome people. All good reasons to fear and respect them.”

     When Alma elopes with Bill and runs off to Texas with him she encounters prejudice of a different sort: she’d married into a slave-holding culture. Texas had fought hard for its independence from Mexico, and most of its Spanish-speaking residents had fled; Texans made few distinctions between Blacks and Mexicans, and the Texas Rangers were known to have lynched Mexicans. Alma’s former position in society was worthless in this new environment, but she made the most of the few friendships she made there, even training with the town doctor.

     When she returned to New Mexico, widowed and childless, she treated anyone who needed her help, including the prostitutes in a brothel. The community didn’t approve of this. They also didn’t approve of Pilar’s relationship with Monique, the half-Indian madam of the brothel.  “To the alchemy of whores and witches,” Monique said. 

     The people had lost land, been conquered by the U.S. and they were ready to place blame. The Sandoval sisters were an easy target and the crowd repeats this little ditty, “A father dies, a husband, too, and the widows, sisters all, dance under the witches’ moon.”

     Aldous Huxley’s The Devils of Loudun was an influence on my work.  It’s a history of alleged demonic possession, religious fanaticism, and mass hysteria in 17th century France.  When I read about religious persecution in the “modern” world and the effort to slut-shame women (sexual persecution), I think of this untidy piece of history.

Stephanie: Where can readers buy your book?

Sandra: Amazon, Barnes & Noble

A message from BRAG:

We are delighted that Stephanie has chosen to interview Sandra Ramos O’Briant, who is the author of The Sandoval Sister’s Secret of Old Blood, one of our medallion honorees at www.bragmedallion.com . To be awarded a B.R.A.G. Medallion TM, a book must receive unanimous approval by a group of our readers. It is a daunting hurdle and it serves to reaffirm that a book such as The Sandoval Sister’s Secret of Old Blood merits the investment of a reader’s time and money.

*Stephanie M. Hopkins conducts author interviews and helps promote the B.R.A.G. Medallion. Participates in the Historical Fiction Virtual Book Tours. She has reviewed books for the Historical Novel Society, is Co-Admin of English Historical Fiction Authors Group on Facebook. The original interview can be read in its entirety by clicking here. 

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BULLIED: DIVERSITY, DIFFERENTIATION, DISTINCTION

In Santa Fe, New Mexico, I attended barrio schools and was bullied for my O’Briant surname. My classmates refused to believe my mom was Latina. Being a 50/50 was not easy. Diversity is a term I embrace and not just ethnically. I hate being stereotyped and having my choices restricted, not only in my life, but in the lives I create for my characters. I was very pleased when esteemed author Claudia Long invited me to be part of a blog adventure, initiated on Twitter #weneeddiversebooks and #diverselit, in which we answer the following questions:

Q. Why do you write what you do?

Most of my characters have been set apart from others in some way. A bullied child is an isolated child, and reading was my escape. Not only did it allow me to learn about other cultures, but books led me on a journey into our human past and even into the future. What I learned is that there is more that humans have in common with one another than what racially, ethnically or culturally separates us. The kids who bullied me acted out of ignorance that had been passed down for generations. I was lonely, but gained strength from my isolation; I learned to make my own path.

My first novel, The Sandoval Sisters’ Secret of Old Blood, won two literary awards. It tells the story of Anglo encroachment on New Mexico as they made real their vision of Manifest Destiny.

That’s the long way of saying that I began my historical research to answer the burning question that had so cruelly affected my youth: Why did the Latino kids in Santa Fe hate Anglos, especially Texans? 

Answering this question led to an examination of war, class, education, the role of women, religion and superstition during the Mexican American War. Santa Fe, NM, an area now known as an artistic and tourist mecca, was the first foreign capital conquered by the U.S. It had a profound impact on the people there.

The war is the backdrop for the Sandoval sisters' individual coming-of-age stories in which they cope with racism, sexism, political intrigue and the power of superstition. The Sandovals are isolated because of their wealth and education. The eldest sister, Oratoria, was a Mexican peasant (most likely of mixed ancestry) adopted into the family. The other two sisters can trace their heritage back to Spain. 

Alma runs off with a Texan and experiences racism while living with his family. She is also gifted/afflicted with the “Sandoval memories.” The youngest sister, Pilar, insists on wearing men’s clothes and working with horses. All of these family attributes set them apart from the people (la gente) in their community and make them targets when the war wreaks havoc and loss.

Over 20 of my short stories have been published. Some stories don’t have identifiable Latino characters. Against the Rules, which tells the fictionalized story of how I met my husband, does not. Personal Power does. What both stories have in common are strong voices and characters who have defied the odds or are about to defy them. Not all of my stories have erotica in them, but when they do there might be a bit of sexual fluidity, as with Pilar in The Sandoval Sisters.

Q: What are you working on?

The sequel to The Sandoval Sisters follows the next generation of Sandovals. The O’Reilly siblings, Alexandra and Phil, are orphaned and found wandering on the Santa Fe Trail. The Sandoval sisters adopt them (this part is family legend; my maternal grandmother was a Sandoval.)

Alexandra: “Their blood was not our blood, but we became Sandovals . . . they were set apart, and so were Phil and I. We played with the other children and eventually flirted with them, but we were not the same. Our Anglo last name disappeared and we became the Sandoval children on every legal document of that time, but we were not la gente. We were the children of the Sandoval witches. The community would not forget the old blood.”

Want more diversity? I’m editing a vampire novel that I sold once, but the small press went belly-up before I could deposit the check. Title:  Blood Mother.

Q: How does your work differ from others of its genre?

Short answer: there are no historical novels dealing with the Mexican American War from a female perspective (of which I am aware.) This is not a good thing. My agent got favorable responses from editors at several big publishing houses. They actually read the book and took the time to dictate letters saying they enjoyed it. The catch? Marketing. Historical fiction readers like French and English stories about royalty or the mistresses of royalty. Last on the list are American historical books. The Civil War and the American Revolution are first in line. There are exceptions, of course, but Mexicans? Puhleese . . .

Q: How does your writing process work?

When I’m actively writing a new piece, the story plays out in the back of my mind like a movie-while I’m driving, on hold, in my sleep. I see it. My job is to put it into words so that my reader can see it, too. If I get stuck, it’s not because I don’t know where to take the action, it’s in finding the best way to describe it. When this happens I usually change perspective by working out, gardening, walking the dog or switching to a short story. 

The human brain is a marvelous machine. It knows what you want it to do but for some reason the words may come out of left field. I’ll be talking to my sons or husband or at lunch with friends and in the next moment I’m scribbling on the back of an envelope or a credit card receipt.

My thanks again to Claudia Long for tagging me for this exercise. She is the author of Josefina’s Sin (Atria/Simon & Schuster 2011) and the forthcoming The Duel for Consuelo.

I’ve tagged Mona AlvaradoFrazier to continue the diversity series. She was an Amazon Breakthrough quarterfinalist for her Young Adult novel: Strong Women Grow Here

A 70's Redux

 

     Met my friend Peggy at Venice Beach this past Sunday. 

My friend is a loving grandmother, and she'd come out from Arizona to visit her daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter who were meeting some college friends at Venice Beach. They dropped her off so Peg and I were able to talk alone and without inhibition. Not that inhibitions were ever a big concern in our circle. Or being inappropriate. Or politically correct. 

We were roommates in graduate school.  I had been living in the graduate dorm at ASU, which was a converted motel complete with an outdoor pool in the center of the complex. Since I didn't know how to cook, dorms were no problem for me, but I wanted a cat. 

Felines were fine with Peg, but she wanted to be completely honest with me. "I date black guys," she said. "That's okay . . . I date women." It was 1974, Black Student Union was active on campus and the Women's Movement was in full blossom. Hawkish Senators, batshit crazy Governors and Border Patrols were aspects of Arizona we didn't encounter. Experimental was the catch-word, at least for me. We bonded over disco and went dancing at least three nights a week. I got a job in academia, but eventually moved over to the business side. Cut my hair, moved to California. Peggy remained in Arizona.

  My Student ID

She married a white guy and had two daughters. I married a man and had two sons. We've both managed to stay married and except for the intense years when our children were young and our careers surging at full force, we've stayed in touch.

Peggy has maintained the luminous essence of her youth. We weren't maidens back then–we shirked that veil with joy–but curiosity about the world and our part in it, is still there. Not all of my friends have that quality. Some of them have rushed into cronedom with relief, it seems.

Our afternoon came to an end all too soon, and we met up with her daughter and two of her girlfriends. "This is my friend, Sandra," Peg said, introducing me to the young women. "When we were roommates she used to walk around the condo naked." The young women studied a crack in the sidewalk. She wasn't finished. "Sandra is an author and her book won two prizes, plus she was on a list with Sonia Sotomayor!"

"Nudist's Who Know It All," I said. They looked stunned. "Just kidding, guys. Her autobiography and my historical fiction were on the same top 10 list." They'd been holding their breaths and laughed with relief. I said goodbye so Peg wouldn't volunteer any other info, and believe me, she knows too much.

I used to rollerskate at Venice. Now, it's all about skateboarding.

 Shadow of a skateboarder about to take flight.

Only female skateboarder that afternoon.

On the walk back to my truck, I stopped at a Vintage Clothing store. The rack of jean shorts brought back memories. Short shorts were the rage back-in-the-day and under the hot desert sun. I texted Peg to tease her. "Remember your thong jean shorts? Those babies were just a seam and lots of air!"

Not sure she'll share that piece of history with her daughters. 

TAOS, TAOS, TAOS

Taos loves writers and I rode on a cloud of enthusiasm for my signing and reading at the Somos Salon: Society of the Muse of the Southwest.  I was thrilled when Kristina Ortez de Jones, the executive director of Somos invited me to their salon.  She smoothed the way and the readers who came to play the Scene Read Game with me had great questions. One even encouraged me to write a story based on historic happenings in Taos.

Click on article to enlarge.

My deepest gratitude to Teresa Dovalpage for this article. She is the author of five novels and most recently A Brief Guide to Taos. Where to Eat, Shop, Work Out . . . and More. Teresa is originally from Cuba and has five novels to her credit. She was generous with her time and enthusiasm and we both love big dogs: We even exchanged pictures of our big babies.  Mine was my traveling companion on the drive to New Mexico and return to L.A. Here's one of Joey cavorting at the Kit Carson Park. He's got a back pack on which slows him down slightly.

 

Since my book launched last October, I've learned not only who my real friends are, but also met people I want to get to know better, like Teresa, and who follow through on their promises.  

She's savvy about Taos and suggested I stay at the dog-friendly El Pueblo Lodge where everyone–from the check-in desk to the custodians–was helpful, conversational and seemed . . . happy. 

My thanks also to Thelma Reyna for connecting me via email to Teresa.  Thelma is an award-winning poet and author. She and I sat on a panel concerning banned books last year.  I can only hope that The Sandoval Sisters' Secret of Old Blood will get banned for the outrageous erotica contained within its covers.  

Getting your book banned is analogous to an artist becoming famous after death sans the not breathing part. People groan about the sex and revolution in your book to the press and the next thing you know Good Morning America interviews you.  That's my dream!

I read and signed in Taos and then Albuquerque, but in Santa Fe I spoke to students at the high school.  More on that adventure soon.

Conquest: Excerpt from The Sandoval Sisters' Secret of Old Blood

“I have a present for you, Pilar.” Geraldo reached behind the chair for a large box. “For the most unique woman in all of Sandoval and Quintana history.”

            Inside were gloves of soft leather. Underneath those were canvas pants with a blue stripe traveling down the leg and a multi-hued sash to tie around my waist. On the bottom lay a finely tooled leather holster with a Colt 5-shooter inside it.

            “Learn how to use it.” He reached inside his boot and removed a tiny pistol. “And this. It only fires one shot, but one shot may be all you need.”

            I ran my finger along its silver inlays and mother-of-pearl grips and traced the engraving of a centaur on its side. “It’s beautiful. Centaurs were shape shifters. Wizards. Born of the mare-headed Demeter, they castrated her priests. They wore female dress—”

            “Ah, yes,” Geraldo said. “Perfect for my own little Sandoval shape shifter.”

***

            Spring came late to Santa Fé in 1846, but the first traders traveled across the trail with news that war between the States and Mexico had begun. “Be prepared for anything and everything,” Geraldo said.

            In the summer, we got word General Kearny and his Army of the West were coming to claim New Mexico. Americans had been visible on the streets of Santa Fé for some time, usually as the result of their trading ventures. Many New Mexicans, including Governor Armijo, had become involved in the trade. Both my father and Geraldo rode the trail often.

            A few men traveled with their wives, usually Indian or Mexican women, but I’d never seen an Anglo woman cross the trail. The plaza was packed with men—American, New Mexican, Spanish, and a few French. For the most part, I passed as one of them.           

            The Missouri traders were all for the Americans taking over. They wanted it done peacefully so as not to disturb business along the trail. They also wanted to get rid of Armijo and the high levy he put on each wagonload of goods. Many, including Geraldo, suspected the receipts of the tax went into Armijo’s pockets. He had made himself unpopular with the locals by taking land from the public domain and giving it to his friends, many of whom were Americans involved in the Santa Fé trade.

            I stood beside Geraldo in the plaza when General Kearny and his army of more than sixteen hundred men entered Santa Fé in August 1846. Hundreds of supply wagons, more than I thought possible, followed the army–1500 oxen, 3600 mules, and 450 horses pulled them. A caravan of eighty merchant wagons traveled with them, ready to set up shop when the city changed hands.

            “It’s an entire country!” I said. A few men nodded their agreement.

            “An invasion,” Geraldo said. “A military occupation. They’re placing a cannon on the hill overlooking the city.”

            Acting governor Juan Bautista Vigil y Alarid surrendered the city. Not a shot was fired. When the Mexican tricolor was lowered, women sobbed and soldiers cheered.

            The United States had conquered its first foreign capital.

***

           General Kearny proclaims  New Mexico  now part of the U.S.

      "Conquest of New Mexico" 1882, artist unknown

            

            “Some of your priests have told you that we would ill-treat your women and brand them on the cheek, as you do your mules on the hip. It is all false,” General Kearny said to the crowd of New Mexicans and foreigners filling the plaza.

            “Hear, hear,” the Americans cheered.

            “He cuts a striking figure under the star-spangled banner,” said a female voice behind me. I turned and saw an American woman, about my own age. She spoke to another woman, her servant by the style of her dress. “Our countrymen will remember this day forever.”

            “Mine, too,” I said. She searched for who had spoken among the assembled men surrounding me. An officer standing next to her eyed my holster and stepped between us.

            “Just a boy, ma’am,” he said to her.        

             Over the next few days, Kearny worked alongside lawyers he’d brought with him to draft a set of laws to govern the American territory of New Mexico. “The code is workable,” Geraldo said later. He rubbed his jaw, speaking as much to himself as to me. “But the lawyers are out for themselves.”

         My business and political lessons never seemed to end. Geraldo rushed to fill me with a lifetime of what he had learned. “Hire several lawyers, pay them well, and have them check each other’s work. Are you listening Pilar?” Satisfied he had my attention, he continued, “Honesty is hard-won in rough country. In the short run, the clever and dishonest will run the territory of New Mexico. Make sure both sides work for you.” 

Please join me at the Somos Salon in Taos on Saturday, September 28 or Bookworks, Albuquerque on September 29.

THE SANDOVAL SISTERS SIZZLE!

Oratoria, The Spinster and Keeper of the Secrets

     You're nobody until someone at La Bloga likes what you've created.  Featured below is Michael Sedano's review of The Sandoval Sisters' Secret of Old Blood, which he graciously bought at the Autry after a reading there. Click on the link above for the full review:

     "When I took The Sandoval Sisters’ Secret of Old Blood off my “to-be-read” stack it was none too soon and about time. What a treat to enjoy the joys of sly smiles and breathless intervals between racist attacks, yanqui invasions, local color, gender ambiguity, jealous lovers, patient lovers, huge cultural paradigm shifts.

   

   Set in New Mexico in the decades leading to the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the story of four women comes ready-made with cultural references and a literary heritage. Most notably, as a uniquely New Mexico story with plot lines filled with miracles and mystical prescience, O’Briant fits into literary space created by Rudolfo Anaya’s timeless Bless Me, Ultima.
 
      O’Briant’s story of the Sandoval sister married into a slave-owning Texas family has a counterpart in Arturo Madrid’s In the Country of Empty Crosses. Set in New Mexico beginning fifty years after the Sandoval Sisters stories, Madrid’s depiction of ever-present tensions between Catholic and Protesant gente, raza and anglo, reflects the creative history O’Briant thrusts upon the indomitable Alma.  

     Historicity sets a background and defines cultural rules that constrains an author’s work. Eroticism has fewer boundaries, and here Sandra Ramos O’Briant gives herself an almost free hand. There’s the soltera sister, the keeper of familia knowledge. There’s the consolation prize bride, Pilar, a 14-year old. Her middle-aged husband looks forward to training her body. Alma, the intended bride, runs off to Texas with a nice cowboy.  The author enjoys placing characters into sexual situations just because she can.  But that’s why it’s a romp of a novel, lots of passion."