A Memoirist Can Go Home Again, and Not Get Shot
A good article in the Saturday NY Times zeroes in on memoirist Domingo Martinez whose book The Boy Kings of Texas is one of five nonfiction finalists for the National Book Award, which will be handed out this Wednesday in a black tie ceremony here in New York City. Laura Tillman reports that Martinez’s book is a frank and raw portrait of his troubled young life and violent upbringing in Brownsville, TX. The dateline on the article is Brownsville, which is key, because Tillman had the opportunity be with Martinez on a recent trip he made to his hometown. Tillman writes,
“It was the first time Domingo Martinez had returned here in nearly 10 years, and it seemed as if nothing and everything had changed. His street, once rutted caliche, was now potholed pavement. Favorite stores had shuttered, but new mom-and-pops still sold tamales and tacos, and the 18-foot border fence between the United States and Mexico slashed rust brown through farmland panoramas.
Mostly, Mr. Martinez marveled at how the decade had worn on his grandmother Virginia Campos Rubio, softening that gun-slinging lioness into a slow-moving 85-year-old with a gentle smile. Ms. Rubio is one of the central characters in Mr. Martinez’s book. . . . In the book Mr. Martinez describes how an abusive, starvation-plagued childhood filled Ms. Rubio with rage, making her both loved and feared in the barrio where he grew up. She still keeps a pistol on her bed, alongside a copy of the Bible, a doll and a bag of cheese puffs.”
Martinez approached the visit with some trepidation, actually fearing possible reprisals from people he’s written about.
“’I was terrified about coming back to Texas,” Mr. Martinez said. “I was afraid that I was going to have a violent confrontation—that I’d get shot.’”
In short, not everyone is happy with the portrait he’s painted. Lecherous neighbors and abusive relatives populate the memoir’s pages. Mr. Martinez said the accounts themselves hadn’t been disputed, but that didn’t make the public airing of dirty laundry easier to bear. . . . No brawls took place on the trip. Instead Mr. Martinez was fed caldo de res, a beef-and-vegetable soup (prepared by his father) and mole with chicken and rice (prepared by his grandmother). He was applauded by more than a thousand students, visited by old teachers and given many congratulations. His immediate family supports the book, though he said it had been too painful for his parents to read. His grandmother doesn’t speak English, and Mr. Martinez said he hoped she wouldn’t be exposed to the book’s contents.”
I’m eager to read such an honest memoir, and more than happy for the author and the people involved in its publication. His literary agent is Alice Fried Martell, whom I mentioned on this blog when we both attended the Publishing People for Obama fundraiser last June. As an in-house acquiring editor I always enjoyed reading submissions from her clients. I learned from Keith Wallman, a longtime editorial colleague when we were both with Carroll & Graf, now at Lyons Press, that Alice sold the book to another editor there, Lara Asher. Lyons Press is a Connecticut house that has never before had a National Book Award nominee. There I’m friendly with publisher Janet Goldklang, who last year brought out James Kunen’s superb Diary of a Company Man: Losing a Job, Finding a Life.
The Boy Kings of Texas is nominated alongside books by fellow finalists Robert Caro, Anne Applebaum, Katherine Boo, and the late Anthony Shadid. I congratulate Mr. Martinez for the acclaim he’s receiving, and for his candor in exploring this personal terrain so movingly. I’m also happy for my publishing friends involved with such an exceptional book
