Tag: publications

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Intersect: On Being Lost and Found

A review of Elsa Valmidiano’s essay collection The Beginning of Leaving 

By Juanita E. Mantz

Being a voracious reader, I’ve noticed that some books touch me deep inside, and change me, leaving an imprint, almost a like birthmark, that only I can see. For me, an example is Elsa Valmidiano’s most recent book, the beautifully crafted hybrid essay collection The Beginning of Leaving. It begins with a poem, quite fittingly titled “What We Were Meant To” and with the lines, “Are we born feet first/to hit the ground running/our hearts already exposed/slashed open to bleed?”

From there, Valmidiano begins a discovery and excavation of the self along with a deep questioning of family and a search for home. Part memoir, part travelogue, with an interspersing of her lyrically stunning poetry, Valmidiano lifted me up, taking me on a literary trip that I won’t soon forget. Falling into the book was like diving into a crystal blue pool of water; I was immersed and transported and at times, even held my breath until I could remember to exhale. Then I would breathe, and read and read some more, savoring it and admiring Valmidiano’s ability to convey such depth in her words.

In the first essay First Home, Valmidiano eases us into her story, telling of her birth in what she deems “the Motherland”, deftly describing her infant years in Las Piñas in the Philippines. She speaks of her beginning, and then of her leaving at the age of sixteen months. After describing her bloodcurdling screams on the plane, Valmidiano questions, “Could I have been missing Motherland but just couldn’t say in words?” 

This theme of returning home resonated so much with me and as a memoirist who herself writes about leaving home then returning, it struck a deep chord. You see, as a kid with a chaos filled and turbulent home life, I always yearned to be somewhere, anywhere other than my hometown of the Inland Empire (located in Southern California, a region about fifty miles east of Los Angeles). 

But I, much like Valmidiano with her Motherland, eventually realized that the Inland Empire was calling me home and I would return to my community in my thirties when my father got sick and passed away. It is also where I would stay, to this very day.

The Inland Empire is ultimately where I would find my calling as a lawyer (by moving from corporate law to public defense) and even more importantly, I would find my voice as a writer (my memoir is titled “Tales of an Inland Empire Girl”). And ironically enough,I would also recreate these locations in my memoir, thus returning home, like Valmidiano, both literally and figuratively.

Valmidiano’s book is also much about family and on her visit home, she describes where her father grew up, in a barrio once known as Lapog, but now known as San Juan. Reading her lyrical words, it reminded me so much of my own father, who died about seventeen years ago, My dad was not from the Philippines, but instead he was a “white” cowboy from Montana whose parents were so poor that his parents put him and his siblings in an orphanage for a time so the state could feed them. Valmidiano’s words and the images she constructed of her father and his past, reminded me that lack of economic privilege crosses racial lines and is systemic and generational but that I, like Valmidiano (who is a lawyer turned writer like myself) broke the cycle of poverty through education.

As a nonfiction writer and poet, Valmidiano is exquisitely precise in her details, and even tells us how one showers here, in this place, and how one must crouch and “pour cold buckets of water over one’s head”. It is the simplicity and beauty of the language which conveys the most. And we hear her voice and the voice of those who came before in her stunning prose and we see, as Valmidiano says, “Ghosts of our ancestors linger within these walls . . . .”

This book is both about the present and the past and Valmidiano reminded me of how words can encapsulate and recreate time and place. A friend of mine once compared writing memoir to building a time machine and the beauty of Valmidiano’s work lies in how she expertly pilots her figurative paper made time machine through her craft, transporting me to a time and place I recognized well, one that resonated and reverberated in my soul, to a time of childhood, and a time of memories, both experienced and retold. As Valmidiano states, “Maybe your daughter and I both dream of your memories and all those family, friends and detractors who told you theirs.“

Valmidiano has much to say on femininity and the body which is of such crucial importance in these post overturning of Roe v. Wade times. She is able to write about the complexities of being a feminist and struggling with the trauma of terminating a pregnancy. As she writes, “On the outside, I was charming and unstoppable, while inside, I felt like I was dying.” Valmidiano ultimately shows the reader that one can be conflicted and yet pro choice, which she definitely is.

And later, Valmidiano chronicles her own struggles with fertility, which mirror mine, highlighting the effects of a toxic workplace and over demanding work life on fertility. As she writes so eloquently, “In fertility speak, you cannot successfully plant in dry, cracked soil and expect anything to grow. All the fertility drugs in the world could not defy what Mother Nature was trying to tell me.” I found it refreshing to hear the issues written about in such complex and intersectional ways. 

The book is also about family history and a digging into the past. Valmidiano is able to deftly investigate and write about many of her relatives in an honest, yet compassionate, way. This book is about memory, about ghosts, about her ancestors and their history and yet also about the present and the now. As Valmidiano so eloquently writes, “Maybe I eventually live out moments of your life as they first appear in mine.”  Her prose shows that the space time continuum is more than a theory and that in her world, it is her reality.

My takeaway from this hybrid essay collection, one that Valmidiano has wrought so carefully and achingly, is that home is where we say it is. Valmidiano illustrates that home can be a creation in itself and the writing of it is an act of bravery. 

Valmidiano’s book further showed me that home is a treasure chest of memories and experiences that we are writers and creatives can use as fodder for our creative endeavors. There is a reason that the first books of writers, from James Joyce (whose book Dubliners, captures the city he self-exiled himself from) to Sandra Cisneros (whose book The House on Mango Street, details parts of her hometown of Chicago) to Isabel Quintero (who writes in Gabi a Girl in Pieces of a fictional town in the Inland Empire that looks much like Corona, California), focus on their hometowns. I think that is because “home” is a magical place filled with nostalgia and brimming with memories, both sweet and bittersweet and even at times, traumatic. 

This book is ultimately more than just a collection of pieces, it is also a naming and a reframing of home and culture. The Beginning of Leaving is simply a celebration of everything one has loved, lost and left. Much like the life I have lived, Valmidiano has lost and persevered and found a way to make it all worthwhile via her creativity and art. In the end, I realized that Valmidiano was not only taking me home, she was taking me on a journey and I was willing to follow her wherever she is willing to take me. As Valmidiano tells at the end of her beautiful book, “And when It comes to leaving, we have to start somewhere.” 

In The Beginning of Leaving, Valmidiano captivates and mesmerizes and as a reader, I never wanted it to end. Some say home is where the heart is and ultimately, this book is all heart and reminded me to listen carefully to the ever beating heart of my own home.

Juanita E. Mantz (“JEM”) is a USC Law educated lawyer, writer, performer, and podcaster. She has 2 books, a memoir titled “Tales of an Inland Empire Girl” and an award winning chapbook titled “Portrait of a Deputy Public Defender, or how I became a punk rock lawyer“. She was awarded a 2023 Individual Artist Fellowship from the California Arts Council. Find everything on her author website: https://juanitaemantz.com and find her Life of JEM podcast on Apple Podcasts. 

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Intersect: Exploring the Longing

Book Review By Lisbeth Coiman

As a writer, I grapple with the immigrant dilemma of allowing contradicting parts of me to find their way in my work or isolate them and write from a specific perspective. In nature felt but never apprehended, Angela Peñaredondo navigates the intersecting paths of immigration and gender politics: A Filipino immigrant struggling to find a home while holding a permanent longing, breaks down their family’s history in search of DNA clues for gender identity.

Earth scientists, botanists, and nature aficionados all learn to read the environment for clues. A rock can tell how old a mountain is and animal behavior can warn the explorer of environmental dangers ahead. Peñaredondo’s collection nature felt but never apprehended is a field trip in search of ancestral cues in the Philipine’s mountainous landscape. Peñaredondo approaches their themes from a naturalist perspective, naming and interpreting their environment to create the paradigm defining diasporic Filipino queer identity. 

This four-part collection begins by offering a life raft “I set your weight on a raft” in a ritual for the ancestors the poet is about to dissect, “steel pointed like hawk bone at your bare collar.” First, the poet confronts the lineage of colonized bodies “excavating the bedrock” of the mountain range during the Battle for Manila in 1945 and placing two male lovers at its center under the heavy weight of Catholic dogma.

The imagery in these first poems does not exoticize the tropics nor the male participants of the story. Rather it presents the Philippines in all its complex glory: magnificent nature, Catholic culture, battleground during World War II, “feminization of wage labor,” all occurring “before [the poet’s] birth, who, like a geographer, must go beyond the “excavated map” to understand their legacy. This is the “survivor’s topography.”

However, it’s in the geological analysis that the poet focuses on the women in their ancestry and where her craft shines. Here the poet sees past the exoticization of the tropical female  “adorn[ed] in teknite,” “at the Tsubaki nighclub,” “bar girl in a fish tank,” to state “you are much more than others realize.” The last four poems of this first part dissect the patriarchy “lithification/”fossilization and what it means to look beyond the fetish, “love us in our deviancy.” 

The poet names body parts, symptoms, and diseases to stress how internalized oppression is in the female body. As it is shown in “exigencies of layers i & ii” where the poet questions the women have assisted pathologies in the perpetuation of these patterns.

Cuticle

Upper epidermis

Epidermal hair

Substomatal chamber

Palisade mesophyll

Xylem

Air channel

Guard cell

Stoma

Phloem

Chloroplasts 

Lower epidermis

Thus, Peñaredondo creates a true paradigm of what it means to see past the oppression and go beyond a painful transformation. But the poet refuses to stay in survival and ends the first part presenting the rest of the collection as a resistance story.

In the second part, the transformation takes place with blunt imagery. It’s all about the coming out Queer. The poems become longer, the spaces widen, and the overall structure shifts, patterns emerge. From scattered lines across the page, to brief prose passages, the verses compel us to read in silence, masticate every blunt image, pause, reflect. These poems turn the previously described violence against women into love. 

“My fist

…

i can make love with it”

Columns and double columns appear as if grabbing the reader by the shoulders and facing them with a harsh reality.

Hunger : rain :: fever : black stone

Lexicon without apparent connection rains on the page as if words and dates fall off the poem as gender affirmations surface and become the focal point. Then, brief poetic prose passages erupt like the volcanic imagery across the entire collection to reveal the magma within:

“she’ll gulp oysters and mussels down with no desire for the palm wine, she’ll read books, floating on their side, spectral algae trickling their brain and wanted curvy fat. in that unreachable sky some human might describe as precious or turquoise, she knows paradise lives elsewhere.” 

In the third part, the poet exposes the immigrant conundrum as the desire for a home while holding a permanent longing. Then exquisite poetry arises, one where imagery and reflection intertwine to create delicate passages holding powerful truths.

“how must one proceed toward potential when splintered enough, boiled down to transparent bits rendered invisible, seen as conformity.”

“exile is a river at the end … ”

“suspension & assimilation with a distant border in view

or lack– . . .”

“to classify as anything but singular is an intervention, a bridge between migration and when

trauma exposes the hybridity of the self, it exposes the multiple, often

incompatible . . .”

The fourth part “holds the contradictions” with a letter to self that gives the poet permission to be all the parts of themselves in harmony. An interesting poem written in couplets in a rhythmic composition marked with abundant spaces naming the identity “queer” “gay immigrant child raised in the 90’s” “kweens”, the origin “Bisayan princess” and their art “haranistas.” It also presents those who refuse “to awaken on the part of the subject,” the lineage that killed “femme supremacy.” Poetry forms shift again, to include lists, “Induction to Self-loyalty,” and an interesting poem written in columns, “studies in becoming prayer” which works as a contrapunto between three different voices. The collection ends with an intriguing bilingual poem titled “albularya”–the name for a witch doctor in Philippines. “albularya” suggests the poet had been subject to this ritualistic cure/cleanse to cure the child of a serious ailment. The reader can only wonder if their family tried to pray the gay away or if the child’s life had been in danger. 

“for my famished body lipstick to remind me that death

although marked in shade is never monochrome.” 

We are in the presence of a poet who is not afraid to explore their past in an intelligent and thorough analysis. nature felt but never apprehended stays with me for it focuses on nature to interpret the colonization of the Filipino diaspora uncovers fossilized patriarchy encrusted at different levels of the poet’s ancestry, “those before us.”

By naming body parts, diseases, and symptoms, the poet stresses how internalized patriarchy and oppression are in the bodies. New patterns indicate the bravery of breaking off tradition to allow for gender identification.

At times a geographer “excavating maps,” at times, a botanist naming plants, mostly a geologist analyzing fossils, the poet uses the lexicon of sciences to name a reality amalgamated in colonized ancestry to reveal the DNA clues that pointed at queerness for generations in a family of Filipino immigrants. 

In their nature felt but never apprehended, Angela Peñaredondo embraces their gender identification while holding a longing for the homeland and all the contradictions within. This collection is a gift for those who understand longing and struggle to decipher their own past. 

Lisbeth Coiman is a bilingual author who has wandered the immigration path from her native Venezuela to Canada and last to the US where she now resides. Her debut book, I Asked the Blue Heron: A Memoir (2017) explores the intersection between immigration and mental health. Her bilingual poetry collection, Uprising / Alzamiento (Finishing Line Press, 2021) portrays the faces of Venezuela’s complex economic and political unrest.

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July 2023 Publication Roundup

The WWS members included in this post published their work in amazing places during July 2023. I’ve included an excerpt from published pieces (if available) or a blurb (if available) if the publication is a book, along with a link (if available) to where the pieces can be purchased and/or read in their entirety.

Please join me in celebrating our members who published in July 2023!

Continue reading “July 2023 Publication Roundup”