ViramiJiites has stated that,t he c o n ^ g of the freewayswas a new ctiloiiizatioii ofsorts; current society nowzooms by like the traffic, neveracknowledging those assumedIu he "former" residents.Honioloss L;itiiios, meaiiwliile,are thought, tx) be inimigraiils.She remarks that on currt-nlniiip.s of Los Angekvs, "East LAiy cut ofl", it doesn't exist."

Nightfall in tliis novel bringsa chill e(itial to tlie fog thai setsill. Wild (logs travel freely,"Quarantine Authority" offi-cials set up checkpoints forcitizens lo produce ID cards.and (hose out after curfew arearrested. Althougli seeminglyothei-worldly, it reflects theexperience of the poor orhomeless.

There are deep, psychologi-cal recesses in each character'sexperience, and unexpectedturns ;ind surprises in thesttiry. Vii-anu)ntes is a master-ful writer, and this text makesevident. tJial. many years ofwork on a novel is a goodiiivcstmenl. After beginningtlie project, more than twodecades ago, she had to put itasific for various reasons,including raising diildren andrelocating across the countryto Cornell llniversity in NewJerst^y, where she has been onIhn faculty since 1990. Whenshe look up the novei agfiin,she reached a breakthroughupon "di.scoverir^" that Tuitle\v;is a girl. (In her earlier draft,t he character was a boy.)Indeed, Turtle is Uie most sig-uificant character in the book,a girl wbo di.sguises herself as alough boy in order to sui"vive.

(_iirls' lives have figured innuiny of the author's stories—girls who wonder about, theirroles in society, who arei-epressed, who rtibel. Her criti-ciilly acclaimed First book, ThejWof/̂ s- mid Other Stories(1985), i.s a collection of sto-n(\s based in ;in urbiui comnui-nify. Her first novel garnered

the John Dos Passos literaryaward, and in 2006, evenbefore the release of her newnovel, she was tapped for theprestigious Luis Leal Award forDistinction in Chirano/IjatinoLiterature, granted annually byt.he University of California,Santa Barbiira. (Earlier recipi-ents include Oscar Hijuelosanci Ruciolfo Anaya.)

A Handbook to Luck, byCristina (iarcia. New York:

f. 2007.

A tiiglily recognized Cuban-American writer, ('ristina(iarcia sailed to famewith her outstandingfirst novel, Dreamingin Cuban, in t992, inan era when Latinawrit.ers were movinginto the limelight. Bonion the island, she camet(j the United States asa cliild aiid was educat-ed in English in NewYork. Hei' two earlynovels reflect—muchUke the work of ttieDominic;m-AmericanJulia Alvdrez—thatexperience of belon^ngto two cultures, criti-cized by each for nolspeaking the languagecorrectly. For her thirdnovel,Huntivg

delved into Cuba's nine-teent.h- and early twen-tieth-cent ury liistoiy,alternating perspectives frommainland Chijia to Cuba toNew York to Vietnam. Hercharacters reveal the niixetietimic heritiige of Cubans, aswell as t.he disenchantment, ofthe supposed "better" life inthe United Stat.es.

In her new novel, Garcia<:hanges gears. No longer por-traying a search for Cubanessence or identity, AHandbook to Luck insteadexplicates life in US society—anation of diverging etimicitiesridijig alongside each other, attimes merging, at othersclastiing, and on occasion

simply moving into the slowlane. Most of her alternatingchai-acters are immigrants; thefirst narrator is the child of aCuban refugee. Enrique growsup in Los Angeles and LasVegas, plans to go to college,but insteatl falls into a lucra-tive career managing casuios.Witii a wife an(.i two small chil-dren, he transfers t.o LosAngeles, where an altemat,ecliai-acter—Marta, an imnii-grant from El Salvador—becomes his children's nanny.Marta originally worked as aseamstress until the owner ofthe factnry, R Korean immi-

family's re|)ut,at.ion. She travelsto the Unit.ed SUit.es shortlybefore her marriage and meetsEnrique on a jaunt to LasVegas (alone, which seemsimplausible). Although theyare mutually attracted, shedecides not to have a fling withhiin, and lives forever with thatregi'et. Her vi(jlent mid repres-sive husbanti greatly despisest.he Unit,ed States. Yeare later,she writes to Enrique ai\dplans to make a visit to LosAr\geles, hut is thwarted byher husband.

I^ila's final account ismorose—l)ut then, so are

Hnri<iue's and Mnrta's.In each t:;ise, the char-acters' romantic livesUV unfuiniling. Martit

I'.si ;ipes from au abusivehusband in the militarywhen she leaves hercoiintiy; her new hus-iiaiid. while tender, isuiuch okler, and onlyinterested in himself.Enri(iue's fleetingmoments with l̂ eila(during a drive from IjasVegas t.o Los Angeles)represent liis greatestjoy; his marriage is sim-ply "comfortable." Leilais the unliappiest of all.

lliese characters not.only experience lifewithout fulfillment ormeaning; they portraylittle depth themselves.Perhaps the meaning is

that thegrdiit, married her. She canjiutbear cliildren, so she adopts aSalvadoran baby.

A tliii'cl crharacter in thefirst-person narration schemeis Leila, a member of the elitein Iran, whose family is dis-graced when her father speaksout. on the wi'ong side of poli-tics. Groomed by hei- motherto become a perfect wife, sheis reqtiired to marry a scientistto impi'ove her future and

American Dream is not. whatit. .seems. UiiTortunat-ely, tliisfragmented story does notrise to the level of Garcla'stirst novel.

Lost City Radio, by DanielAiareon. New York:Han.xTCollins, 2007.

Daniel Alarcdn is only 30 yearsold, but, he already shows signsof being a prolific wiiter. Hepublished a collection of shorl.stories and numerous aiticlesbefore the arrival oiLost City

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Radio, and his novel isalready bringing com-parisons to the greatluminaries of LatinAmerica. Bom in Peni,he was just three whenhis parents broiiglithim to BiiTiiingham,Alabama.

Lost City Radio,however, could takeplace in any country.Alarc6n has stated thathis impression of pre-sent-day society is that,it has "no concern forhuman life." That pre-vailing tlieme, alongwith characters por-trayed with great sensi-tivity, make his novel amasterpiece.

After high school,Alarc6n attended col-lege in New York, pursuing abachekjr's degree in anthropol-ogy aitd a teaching credential.After teaching Latinu fifthgraders in the South Bronx fortwo years, he traveled to lima,where he applied the samecreative classroom approachas he did with the kids in theBronx, !eadlj\g Uiein to pho-tography. Alarc6n liad discov-ered that when he allowed stu-dents to create a collage ofphotographs representingtheir countries and families,they opened up and enteredthe learning process, fn a largebarrio on the outskirts of Lima,originally a squatters' camp,Alarcon helped youngsterscreate documentaries abouttheir lives, which he self-pub-lished with an organiaitioncalled Defensores de la Paz.

"To see conununicationbegin between those isolatedcommunities Is powerful,"Alarcon said in a recentinterview.

Like Viramontes's novel.Lost Cily Radio preserves apeople who have been dis-counted and moved to thefringes by urban complexities.As with numeroiLs "littlevillages in the Andes, mymother's town no longer

A N I E L F A L A R C O N

exists," he said, adtiing thai itis an example of many moresuch places, now erased inmemory by federal am\ysweeps tlirougli the jungles.His mother's village could onlybe accessed after eight hoursof travel by milk truck tcomGajamarca, but even so, thearmy made sure to find it.

Ir\ the novel, ttie name of theradio show, "Lost City," is aptin more ways than one. EntirevilUiges have disappeared; thegovenunent has assigi^ed themnumbers and destroyed oldmaps. Only a few still remem-ber the original names. Asdepicted in Lost City Radio,life in a jungle village—despitethe lack of modem conve-niences, including electricity^was niuiti-faceted and serene.Hcjwever, once tliere were fewmen left to perform their roles,the boys began leaving, oftenhired uito the military as thesoldiers frequently trampedthrough their communities.The only contact with the out-side world was the late-nightradio program.

Nonna, t,he host oflhe show, possesses ahoney-sweet voiceand the ability tomake eveiy humanbeing feel counted.Wlien she reads thenames, sent to her bylisteners, of peoplethey have not seen in(juite a long lime, itmakes them feel asthougli their lovedones are still aliveand still present withI hem. Norma's showreceives the highestratings, making herboss happy, but healso keeps tight reinson what is allowed,for fear the stationUTU be shut down bythe govemment.

Ndnna opens the phone linesfor calls from listeners, and onone occasion someone says thename of another radio hostwho has been missiitg forweeks—and everyone feels achUl of fear. Norma's bosstakes her off the air for severaldays, and no calls are takenfor weeks.

Norma's first-person narra-tion is int,erspersed with third-person descriptions of heractivities, .Mtemate narrationis provided by Rey, her missinghusband. When they first met,she was a college student, anonly child in a middle-classfamily with a mother who Lsconstantly depressed and aphilandering father. She feelsno affinity with them and haslived on her own since sheobtained the job at the radiostation. At that time Rey is anactivist at the university, butshe does not realize it, sinceshe is little involved in politics.Rey's story Is Incredibly com-plex and will transpiretliroLigfiout the alt.ematingchapters. Biit wluieLos^ Cit^yRad-io is fragmented in spaceand time, along with the twomain characters' perspectives,the novel is skillfully connected

and moves wilh fluidity and apace that at times is incrediblytense. Were it not for thebeautiful prose, it wouldbe a difficult read.

Wliile words from Spanishand tropical jungles indicatethat this is Latin America, thenovel never states the name ofa country. It could be tied tothe rise ofthe Shining PathI'evolutionaries and Peni's civilwar—which began in 1980 andkilled tens of thousands of peo-ple—but there are no ideologi-cal concepts or a sense ofheroes and martyrs. It is theliuman element that is V)rimar\':an inherent resi^ect for, as wellas abuse of, human life and,most intensely, the heartfeltdesire for communifration andinteraction, despite great dis-tances and spans of time apart."Por LiitLnos specifically,"Alarcon says, "radio is a bigpart of our lives. Before theIntemet and cheap intema-tional phone calls, we wouldrecord messages and sendcassettes througii the mail."

A writing instructor at MillsCollege in Oakland, California,Alarcon now leads a mostly"solitary" writ,er's life. "I waTit.to write fiction that is engaged,that is not silly, not frivolous—about things thai happcnt-d inmy country while 1 wa,s grow-ing up safe and sound in theUS South," he says. As awriter, he sees his role as"not ever accepting simjik'answers." Ht

Elizabeth Coonrod Martinezis Professor of LatinAmerican LiU^rature andCfiair ofthe Departmeni ofChicano and Latirw Studiesat Sonoma State Universityin northern California.

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