Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2007 “It’s a forgotten place—or a place that’s never thought of to begin with.”
--Manuel Muñoz
--Manuel Muñoz
www.visitcentralvalley.co Mexican-Americans living in California’s Central Valley populate the ten interconnected stories in Manuel Muñoz’s Faith Healer of Olive Avenue. They live on the wrong side of town—many on the same street—where houses are rundown, failing schools are in disrepair, and neglected yards are full of weeds. They clean other people’s houses and wait tables. They drive Cadillacs but have backyards full of junk. They do time to prison. They live in shabby motels. They live with debt, disappointment, deception, and denial.
And some of them are gay.
Muñoz was born into a family of farm workers who still live in the Central Valley town of Dinuba where he was born, a place he describes in an interview with the Harvard Review as “a forgotten place—or a place that’s never thought of to begin with” which nevertheless remains “a reservoir of creativity for me."
When Muñoz visits his family he explores his hometown, taking notes and gathering ideas for characters and story plots. ‘The place was so formative,” he explains, “because I was trying to escape it for so long. It took moving away to make me yearn for my town.”
Mother-son and father-son relationships are the focus of many of these stories. In “Lindo y Querido,” a mother cares for her dying son after his involvement in a motorcycle accident. Only after his death does she find letters hidden under his mattress indicating Isidro had a romantic relationship with the driver. Although she cannot save her son, through letters written in English that she cannot read (“The closing Love, Carlos, says more than anything else”) the mother comes to understand and accept his sexual orientation. (p. 19)
In “Bring Brang Brung” Martin suddenly finds himself a single father after his partner’s unexpected death. Ironically, the death occurs at the same time that Martin was beginning to feel isolated and in need of freedom. But moving back to the Valley from San Francisco, he will reconnect with his sister, also a single parent with a troubled adolescent son, and accept his new role. The father in the title story lovingly cares for his son who is injured on the job in a fork-lift accident while the father’s lack of compassion in “When You Come into Your Kingdom” indirectly contributes to his son’s suicide.
Among the many issues that challenge Muñoz’s characters is sexual orientation, but it is never center stage. Homosexuality quietly rests in the background, often unspoken and not acknowledged, but always present as a defining trait of several characters.
And some of them are gay.
Muñoz was born into a family of farm workers who still live in the Central Valley town of Dinuba where he was born, a place he describes in an interview with the Harvard Review as “a forgotten place—or a place that’s never thought of to begin with” which nevertheless remains “a reservoir of creativity for me."
When Muñoz visits his family he explores his hometown, taking notes and gathering ideas for characters and story plots. ‘The place was so formative,” he explains, “because I was trying to escape it for so long. It took moving away to make me yearn for my town.”
Mother-son and father-son relationships are the focus of many of these stories. In “Lindo y Querido,” a mother cares for her dying son after his involvement in a motorcycle accident. Only after his death does she find letters hidden under his mattress indicating Isidro had a romantic relationship with the driver. Although she cannot save her son, through letters written in English that she cannot read (“The closing Love, Carlos, says more than anything else”) the mother comes to understand and accept his sexual orientation. (p. 19)
In “Bring Brang Brung” Martin suddenly finds himself a single father after his partner’s unexpected death. Ironically, the death occurs at the same time that Martin was beginning to feel isolated and in need of freedom. But moving back to the Valley from San Francisco, he will reconnect with his sister, also a single parent with a troubled adolescent son, and accept his new role. The father in the title story lovingly cares for his son who is injured on the job in a fork-lift accident while the father’s lack of compassion in “When You Come into Your Kingdom” indirectly contributes to his son’s suicide.
Among the many issues that challenge Muñoz’s characters is sexual orientation, but it is never center stage. Homosexuality quietly rests in the background, often unspoken and not acknowledged, but always present as a defining trait of several characters.
My Favorite Story
“When You Come into Your Kingdom” is a heart-breaking story of a father’s failure to understand the emotional fragility of his overweight son and his subsequent loss of daughter and wife following the son’s suicide. Santiago reluctantly takes a week’s leave from work several months later, retracing the family’s vacation path to the ocean by himself, even renting the same motel room and standing on the balcony from which his son jumped to his death below. “Santiago knows he has come here to understand how Alejandro could have looked at such a miraculous horizon—the sheer blue line of the ocean meeting its own impossible expanse—and seen, instead, an exit.” (p. 101)
Standing in the doorway, Santiago views the world as his son saw it for the last time and feels a similar draw to that felt by his son:
"Santiago stands there and sees how he is not capable of forgiving himself, but at least he accepts his own fear. His son was a lonely child. Santiago accepts that he is lonely, too, and always has been. Loneliness is greater than any anger, any shame he has ever felt. Greater, in fact, than love. He can see how his son saw, and he knows what it is to be him and prove incapable of resisting his own body, how his hands and feet could move forward as if on their own." (pp. 102-103)
Although reliving the tragedy is agonizing for Santiago, this introspective experience allows him an opportunity to explore his grief and better understand his son, even if it is too late to restore a relationship with him.
Standing in the doorway, Santiago views the world as his son saw it for the last time and feels a similar draw to that felt by his son:
"Santiago stands there and sees how he is not capable of forgiving himself, but at least he accepts his own fear. His son was a lonely child. Santiago accepts that he is lonely, too, and always has been. Loneliness is greater than any anger, any shame he has ever felt. Greater, in fact, than love. He can see how his son saw, and he knows what it is to be him and prove incapable of resisting his own body, how his hands and feet could move forward as if on their own." (pp. 102-103)
Although reliving the tragedy is agonizing for Santiago, this introspective experience allows him an opportunity to explore his grief and better understand his son, even if it is too late to restore a relationship with him.
About Manuel Muñoz
www.citedatthecrossroads.com
Growing up in a Hispanic family in California’s Central Valley, Manuel Muñoz did not learn to speak English until he began kindergarten. He would later win a scholarship to Harvard, arriving with only $80 and feeling very intimidated by his his richer and more sophisticated classmates. Although Muñoz had intended to be a high school English teacher when he entered college, it was in his creative writing classes that he “learned that writing could be my life.”
Muñoz is currently serving as a professor at the University of Arizona-Tucson teaching writing. He is the author of one novel and two short story collections as well as the recipient of several literary awards.
Muñoz is currently serving as a professor at the University of Arizona-Tucson teaching writing. He is the author of one novel and two short story collections as well as the recipient of several literary awards.
