Luis Manuel Martínez

Martinez's Second novel, Drift is due out this spring from Picador Press

Martinez at Indiana University

Capital Student Elisa Ambrogio interviews Chicano writer Manuel Luis Martínez


In the tradition of Gabriel García Márquez (Chronicle of a Death Foretold), Jorge Ibarguengoitia (The Dead Girls), Elena Poniatowska (La noche de Tlatelolco), Cecile Pineda (Face) and so many others, Martínez turns an actual event into a compelling novel of fathers and sons, death and rebirth, coming of age and the hardships of the illegal migrant experience.

A Moveable Beast by Elisa Ambrogio

"[Manuel Martinez] became fascinated by the American obsession with mobility...and the relentless desire to move on in search of this elusive goal." Just as much as this is an obsession typical to the American mind; it is a symbol for the mythical search the soul conducts to grow and fulfill its potential. In Crossing the hero myth is translated through the plight of the immigrant. This is not only a story of literal mobility, but the journey the human being must take to reach his destiny. Since the beginning of recorded time the physical migration of the body has symbolized the battle and triumph of the spirit. From Odysseus to Sal Paradise, the flight from the familiar has marked the passage from child to adult, from confusion to enlightenment.

In the classic hero myth the departure from home, or the familiar, is often followed by the hero's descent into darkness. The darkness represents "free fields for the projection of unconscious content" (Campbell, 36). In the darkness of the boxcar Luis contemplates his mother, his father and his own decision to leave home. The transition of Luis from boy to man must occur if Luis is to emerge from the blackness. In this way the boxcar serves as a transitory womb, incubating the immature spirit of Luis. Here the boxcar also represents Joseph Campbell's "world navel", or the site of revelation or rebirth (in Buddhism the Bo tree, in Christianity the crucifix).

Traditionally the hero passage is helped, or joined by a guide of some sort. As Luis begins his journey, the contradictory figure of Berto makes his telling first appearance. As Luis makes his way toward the boxcar Berto says, " 'You seem very anxious to enter....Don't get too excited now; I think you may be in much more of a hurry to get out by the time it's over,' " (Martinez, 5). A few moments later as Luis dawdles at climbing into the box car, Berto places his hand under Luis's arm and intones that he should "Go on," (Martinez, 6). The contrary aspects of this first encounter suggest the Grecian oracle's mixed messages; both warning the hero and propelling him toward his journey. Just as the Oracle at Delphi was a blind 'seer', in Berto there is the paradox of a picker who is missing half his hand, the physical deficit signaling a spiritual boon.

Berto serves as both a guide and a transitory father figure. He comforts and warns Luis for a great deal of the journey. "Learn to take care of yourself or you won't make it out of this goddamned box," (Martinez, 20). By telling the story of his life, Berto gives over his sins, and with this, his authority as guide or father figure. He offers his male ego to Luis as his last act of spiritual guidance to the boy. The completion of this rite marks Berto's passing, and Luis's imminent rebirth.

As Luis comes closer to overcoming the demons within his soul the comforts and talismans of the outside world fall away. First his food, then his guide Berto, and finally his father's canteen. Losing the canteen has special significance not only because it was Luis's only physical sustenance, but also because of the paternal value it held. The canteen was a amulet of Luis's continued desire for his father's presence and protection. Not until he loses his canteen does he endure the depth of suffering necessary for him to overcome his fear and fight his own demons.

In seeing his father standing with "many people...in white, [with] Berto" (Martinez, 116) Luis finally accepts his father's death. With this acceptance comes Luis's realization that his destiny is entirely in his own hands "I'm free to die," (Martinez116) he muses. Liberated from fear and immaturity, the individual emerges. Battling against the voice inside himself that compels him to "Come now" (Martinez, 117) and give up, he stands, and in this rising completes his evolution from boy to man. Because the inner struggle of transcendence has taken place, the tactile fight against Pablo that Luis feared, is an anticlimax. "I had been prepared to kill my devil, only now I could not find him" (Martinez, 119).

The end of Crossings removes it from the genre of the traditional hero myth and places it in the realm of modern mythology. Modern mythology can be characterized by the plight of the individual, rather than the "great coordinating mythologies....where all meaning was in the group," (Campbell, 388). In his birth from the black of the boxcar Luis "...(is) thinking of nothing.... (lifted) the ax for nothing....(felt) nothing" and begins his new life without tribe or community, but with the self-reliant determinism of modern humanity. Crossings depiction of one migrant worker's experience succeeds in "rendering the modern world spiritually significant" (Campbell, 388) and paints a universal story of transcendence.