Since the first book came out, I have met more than a half dozen reincarnated Teresitas, and ten or twelve channelers who channel her from Heaven. I am led to believe that in the afterlife, one can go condo and inhabit all sorts of interesting new bodies at once. And, being spirit rather than flesh, one can also be in Heaven and Texas at the same time. I often wonder what Tomás Urrea would have made of all this.
As mentioned above, Jamie Rosencrans was a real child, though he had a different name. And he was actually healed in San Jose, not Clifton. He ended up later in life in Silver City, New Mexico, where he died. He, as far as I can tell, did not marry.
It would have been astounding to interview him or his kin. However, Don Luis Perez is alive and well in Silver City, and he was kind enough to show me the altar of the church in Tomóchic, which he has in his possession. Don Luis, for the record, will be presenting a factual history book about Teresita. John Van Order and Teresita did, indeed, live on East 28th Street in New York City. It houses a Kinko’s today.
So—thanks. Again. Thanks to Little, Brown and everyone there. Geoff Shandler, the greatest editor anywhere—I will always remember arguing plot points in the woods near the Truckee River in California in a break from the Squaw Valley Conference. Thanks to everyone at the shop—among them Michael Pietsch, Nicole Dewey, Heather Fain, Liese Mayer, Allison J. Warner, and my goddess of publicity, Elizabeth Garriga. And deep gratitude to Peggy Freudenthal and Tracy Roe, my long-suffering copyeditors, who have done battle over these years with my idiot-savant obsessions, repetitions, and infelicities: unfurl it, Tracy! Thanks also to Pamela Marshall.
Thanks to my beloved agent, Julie Barer: we move forward with joy.
To my film agent and lifeline to sanity, Michael Cendejas at the Pleshette Agency in Hollywood. We have conspired and laughed and celebrated for a long time, but we are only beginning.
Thank you to Trinity Ray, wherever you are: you changed my game.
It was a thrill to meet the Ronstadts in Tucson. Tomás Urrea of Albuquerque gave me lessons in beekeeping.
Thanks to Ambassador Enrique Hubbard Urrea—mi primo. And a great translator.
And special gratitude and love to Mr. Valenzuela and the Yaqui people, who blessed me with their friendship, goodwill, and tribal tokens at the Tucson Festival of Books. And to the nameless holy man who came forward at the last minute and raised his hand over me in blessing. While I’m at it: thanks to Bill Viner and the Tucson Festival. Special love to Fitz.
The librarians of Texas Tech; especially the special collections wizards who gave me access to the archives of family letters, and the voluminous correspondence of William Curry Holden and Mr. Frank Puttman. Pure gold. Also their archive of family photos and such gems as the letters of Dr. Duty. (Note to researchers: there is an obscure listing stating that Texas Tech has, somewhere, a wire recording of Teresita’s actual voice; we were never able to find it.) And to the library at my own UIC for arranging the transfers of information.
David Romo has argued with me and prodded me and challenged me and helped me for years now. He took me to Teresita’s rooming house in El Chuco’s Segundo Barrio, and he made good on his threat to take it over. At least part of it. He is creating a Teresita museum/library there now. His published account of Teresita’s time in El Paso is of great value to any fan or scholar: Ringside Seat to a Revolution. We share an occasional publisher, Cinco Puntos Press, in El Paso. The great Byrd family that owns this venerable publishing venture has given me much love, care, and comfort over these years. Bobby, Lee, Susie, et al.—thanks for the bed and the vino!
Bruce Dinges and the Arizona Historical Society—perhaps Mr. Dinges will forgive me the fun I had with his wholly fictive ancestor in this novel; UTEP—particularly the late lamented Paso Al Norte Immigration Museum project, the library, and Ben Sáenz; to the National Hispanic Cultural Center in Albuquerque; to Tony Mares at UNM; to correspondents who sent me thrilling details I couldn’t have known—the “chulo” material, for example, came from ranching families in the Tubac/Arivaca area. Thanks to Yuma sheriff Ralph Ogden, who gives me a good sense of the Arizona spirit when I need to write it. Also, Lisa Gezelter at the National Archives and Records Administration Pacific Region hunted down legal documents pertaining to various trials in the story. Thanks to Matthew Lara in Silver City. Thanks to the Masons and Freemasons who shared some data with me.
Felipe Molina’s excellent Yaqui/Cahita dictionary was vital to both books, and this book relied on his fine Yaqui Deer Songs: Maso Bwikam (Tucson: University of Arizona Press/Sun Tracks, 1987).
In New York, the fabulous public library was heroic in its efforts to find me esoterica. The text of Teresita’s letter from the Archangel Gabriel is actually to be found there. Sorry—no feather. And the staff and historian of the Marble Collegiate Church on the corner of Fifth Avenue and West 29th Street were very helpful. They provided me with research materials, a brief tour of the church, and the priceless story of the blue window and the big clock.
The University of Illinois at Chicago has given me a safe haven now for ten years and more. I am indebted to the institution for its patience and support of my wandering, distracted ways.
Thanks to my editor at Playboy, Lee Froelich, who sent me on assignment to El Paso/Juárez on a different investigation—a visit that, of course, opened new doors into the Teresita research.
As for the voluminous medicine/shamanic gratitudes—see the last book.
Lyn Niles did some late-inning genealogy and records mining.
Many writers have offered an open ear or a welcoming word over time. I can’t thank you all, but I can tip my hat to you. Stewart O’Nan remains a great reader and guide through the manuscript mire.
César A. González has been a guiding light. And, of course, there would be no Teresita, there would be no me, without Rudolfo Anaya, nuestro tío.
The tidbit of the Americans being called “los Goddamns” by the Mexicans of southern Arizona comes from Elizabeth Brownell’s priceless They Lived in Tubac (Tucson: Westernlore Press, 1986). The story of Teresita smiting the NYC attackers comes directly from her great-granddaughters.
My students and colleagues at Breadloaf, Fishtrap, and Squaw Valley have been wonderful inspirations and allies over the last six years. Thank you.
To that lovely man, Neil Gaiman—thank you, amigo, for suggesting the value of a haunted and lonely writing session in Las Vegas hotel rooms. It really worked. Though I thought the tossing palm fronds were devil monkeys coming in my late-night window as I typed.
Finally, the writers of the Cabin 20 community have monitored and upheld this entire operation—gracias, amigas y amigos. Fast-Horse Cathy Safiran was an early reader.
As always, my family supports me and suffers my eruptions. Cinderella, mi waifa, has battled through every desert and jungle with me. It has been a long season of work.
And now, we celebrate.
For further information about Teresita and the books, visit us at luisurrea.com.
Lios emak weye,
L.A.U
Chicago, 2011
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LUIS ALBERTO URREA was born in Tijuana, Mexico, to an American mother and a Mexican father. His bestselling novel The Hummingbird’s Daughter, the result of twenty years of research and writing, is a fictionalized retelling of the life of Teresa Urrea, the Saint of Cabora. The novel won the Pacific Rim Voices Kiriyama Prize.
He is the recipient of a Lannan Literary Award, an American Book Award, an Edgar, a Western States Book Award, and a Colorado Book Award, and he has been inducted into the Latino Literary Hall of Fame.
His nonfiction works include The Devil’s Highway, which was a finalist for the 2005 Pulitzer Prize for general nonfiction; Across the Wire, winner of the Christopher Award; and By the Lake of Sleeping Children.
His poetry has been collected in The Best American Poetry, and a collection of his short fiction, Six Kinds of Sky, won the 2002 ForeWord magazine Book of the Year A
ward as Editor’s Choice for Fiction.
He is a Distinguished Professor of creative writing at the University of Illinois in Chicago.
luisurrea.com
Reading Group Guide
QUEEN
OF
AMERICA
A Novel
by
LUIS ALBERTO URREA
A conversation with Luis Alberto Urrea
What was your original inspiration to write The Hummingbird’s Daughter and Queen of America?
Family stories and family legends. Later on I realized it was an important story not only historically, but spiritually and politically as well. Plus, it was a ripping yarn that I couldn’t resist.
When you were writing The Hummingbird’s Daughter, did you know that there would be a sequel?
I originally envisioned the novel as a super-epic, like Stephen King’s The Stand. But it seemed clear that so much happens in each half of Teresita’s life that it would exhaust readers. So it became clear that two books would help establish not only the two chapters of her life, but would also embody the strange gap between the worlds—Mexico and the United States.
Why did you choose to novelize your great-aunt’s story? What kind of liberties did this allow you to take?
I have often said in interviews that you can’t footnote a dream. In the mid-nineties, when I entered the realm of shamans and medicine people, I started to understand that I was on a more intuitive path than a footnoted history book. Fiction allowed me to go deeply into the souls of the characters. If you have lived with these people for twenty-plus years, you start to know them in ways that don’t fit in endnotes. Some of the liberties are practical and some of them are simply the joy of art. For example, if Tomás Urrea had six or seven top hands over the years, it is simpler to synthesize them into the character of Segundo. The art comes in when I get to play with that imaginary cowboy and watch him walk through both books and in some ways feel more real to me than completely historical figures.
How did you conduct your research? Were there any themes that were especially important for you to explore?
For the first ten years, it was what you’d expect: archives, libraries, microfilm, museums, interviews. After ten years, it became more experiential: hiking, sweat lodge, praying, medicine people, dreaming. By the end, it had become a well-oiled machine of experience and knowledge coming both practically and impractically. Sometimes you crack an old book and sometimes a teacher steps out of the woods.
The theme that became more powerful as time went on was the sacredness of our daily lives. I do not mean religion. I found that, for example, the world of women’s power was rich, mysterious, and absolutely central to our lives. In spite of what male historians might think.
How did you choose the title Queen of America?
On the simplest level, I wanted a title with the same number of syllables as The Hummingbird’s Daughter. However, I also wanted a title that encapsulated her coming of age, her coming into power, and her change of lifestyle. It was also important to have a title that hinted at the New York phase of her life. Let’s face it: Queen of America is a title for a pop star, which is partially what she became. Finally, there is of course a subliminal nod to the Virgin of Guadalupe, who is known as “Queen of the Americas.”
In interviews, you’ve called this your “Lady Gaga book.” What do you mean?
Teresita became a pop star. Imagine these books as a science-fiction epic. In the first book, our heroine lives in a rural world, on a pastoral planet. At the end of that novel, she boards a spaceship (a steam locomotive). This ship takes her through space (night). She lands in the future—on a planet more advanced in technology than the one she abandoned. Teresita went from hacienda life in the Mexican desert to industrialized America. It is a kind of classic immigrant story, as well as a fantastic story. Small-town girl makes good. Suddenly she was photographed, giving autographs, being wined and dined, in the newspapers… and living in Manhattan. An oddity who captured the American imagination of the time.
What was happening in late nineteenth-century Mexico that made the Mexican government view Teresita as an incendiary figure? What did they think she was threatening?
They didn’t think—they knew. The Díaz regime was involved in what can only be seen as an indigenous genocide. Yaqui people were being forcibly removed from their land, massacred, or sent in cattle cars to distant work camps where they were starved to death. Sound familiar? Teresita’s profound identification with, and dedication to, the native tribes stood as a clear threat to the rule of order. They were terrified of what was destined to happen: revolution.
You were born in Mexico and moved to America when you were five. How do you think your bicultural upbringing has influenced your writing, if at all?
It is the source.
Has researching your family and writing about Teresita altered your perception of your family’s history? How so?
Yes. It led me deep into the roots of our family in ancient Spain. It led me to the indigenous outskirts of my family: Apache, Mayo, Yaqui. It defined us for the younger generations. It instigated a continuing connection with Urrea family members worldwide, be it in Mexico, Spain, Colombia, or Chile. Teresita has somehow managed to spread her benediction over our entire history.
When asked what musicians would record an imaginary sound track to accompany The Hummingbird’s Daughter, you named a Mexican group called Tribu, with vocals by Lila Downs. Would you choose the same for Queen of America or is there something else?
Lila, Lila, Lila! Always and forever, Lila Downs. People love the character of Huila. If you want to learn power like Huila’s, listen to Lila Downs. That being said, let’s call Carlos Santana, too.
Questions and topics for discussion
1. A newcomer in a strange land, Teresita Urrea embarks on a wild adventure through turn-of-the-century America while simultaneously coming of age. Ultimately, Queen of America is the story of Teresita’s immigrant experience. What are some of the challenges that face her along the way?
2. Discuss how the supernatural and spiritual elements of Teresita’s Mexican life intersect with the gritty reality of twentieth-century industrial America.
3. Infused with religious mysticism, historical drama, folktale, and Western adventure, Queen of America has been described as a magical realist novel. Do you agree? Why or why not?
4. Urrea’s novels often confront borders—borders between Mexico and the United States, men and women, rich and poor, and practical and mythical. Discuss these recurring themes. Can you think of others?
5. Teresita has been described by both readers and reviewers as the Joan of Arc of Mexico. What is implied by this, and do you think the description is apt? How does it change, if at all, throughout The Hummingbird’s Daughter and Queen of America?
6. In what ways are The Hummingbird’s Daughter and Queen of America similar? How do they differ?
7. Can Teresita’s gift for healing be explained in contemporary terms? Do you think that a saint or a healer can exist in a modern world? If so, can you think of any who are living today?
8. The Hummingbird’s Daughter and Queen of America are based on Luis Alberto Urrea’s own family history. Did you recognize any parallels between your family’s history and any of the themes in Urrea’s two books?
Luis Urrea’s Instant Book Club Party
In the pursuit of making this paperback edition “book-club friendly,” I’ve given you the requisite Q&A and discussion questions. But I know what you really want: a party! Some of the strongest responses to the Teresita saga have been to the food. You keep telling me how hungry you are while reading these books! So here you go, three fine recipes from three excellent chefs. (One of them, by the way, is my dear sister-in-law Blanca.) It only seemed right that I should offer you the recipes for actual Urrea dishes that might have been eaten in the kitchens of Cabora.
And since no book-club gathering is complete without a libation of some sort, marga
ritas are in order. So the third recipe is for an absolutely delicious margarita that was specially created during the Queen of America book tour.
Enjoy, and send me a picture of your celebration! You can reach me at luisurrea.com.
Blanca Urrea’s Chiles Rellenos
The secret recipe of our wondrous family cook, Blanca Urrea, as told to her husband, my oldest brother, Juan Urrea. He and his daughter Emilia Chavira provided the translation. This was a feature of their Tijuana and San Diego restaurant, La Paloma.
Serves 4–6
1 cup vegetable oil
6 green pasilla chiles (poblano peppers are a fine substitute)
Monterey Jack cheese
6 eggs
2 tablespoons cornstarch
½ cup flour
Sauce
3 medium red tomatoes
¼ of an onion
2 garlic cloves, or to taste
1 pinch dried oregano, or to taste
Salt, to taste
1 tablespoon cornstarch