Barrio Mistress of the Words…
No writer can be the ‘Master of the Words’ without loving them! Mehmet Murat Ildan, Turkish playwright and novelist
Per the opening quote above, Silviana (aka Silvia) Wood is a Master (Mistress?) of the Words, for she loves words, and by all appearances, they love her back. This Silvia-Words love affair has given us great poems, short stories, plays, and a memoir-novel in a masterfully crafted cascade of words in English, Spanish, Spanglish, and the Chicano patois often referred to as Caló but which I call Barrio Spanish [Caló is a dialect onto itself and is time-specific: the 1930s-1940s, the Pachuco era.]
Silvia recently had her second book, “La Quinta Soledad,” a novel, published (Aztlan Libre Press). “La Quinta Soledad” has had great reviews, and everyone I know who has read it absolutely loved it – and those who are currently reading it are liking it immensely. They all highly recommend it. “La Quinta Soledad” has received effusive endorsements from some heavy-duty literary folks. “La Quinta Soledad” has been described as a tour de force of Chicana/o literature, and indeed it is. Below is a link to order it from the publisher. Silvia’s first book, “Barrio Dreams,” a collection of plays, was published in 2015 (University of Arizona Press).
In these parts – Tucson, Southern Arizona – Silvia is well known via her television personality “Doña Chona,” a feisty, irreverent 70-year-old who, dressed in her trademark housedress and apron, dispensed uncensored personal and political consejos (advice), regañadas (scoldings), chismes and mitote (gossip), and sage observations on barrio life. For many years Southern Arizonans religiously tuned in to Doña Chona’s weekly monologues on The University of Arizona’s PBS station. Even today, some people address Silvia as Doña Chona.
La Quinta Soledad’s foul-mouthed, opinionated, broom-swinging, shoe-throwing grandmother Doña Conchita, whose presence and influence permeates the entire book, could very well be Doña Chona on steroids.
Silvia is not only an organic intellectual, she’s got schooling. She earned her Master of Fine Arts (MFA) degree (the terminal degree in the arts) from The University of Arizona.
Silvia earned her Master of Fine Arts (MFA) degree from The University of Arizona.
I go back with Silvia to our John Spring Junior High School days in the 1950s. Her brothers Frankie and Willie and I were in reform school together in our teens. And all of us (Frankie, Willie, Silvia, and myself) were heavily involved in the Chicano Movement of the 1960s-1970s. Currently we both are active members of a John Spring Junior High alumni group. [Anywhere from 20 to 40 of us get together for lunch monthly.] This group sponsored a book-signing Reception when Silvia’s first book, “Barrio Dreams,” was published.
Let’s go to Barrio Anita…
Silvia is a faithful reporter, re: barrio life circa the 1950s. “La Quinta Soledad” is rooted in Barrio Anita – Tucson’s second-oldest barrio – where Silvia grew up. Barrio Anita is small, with only about five streets. Barrio Anita was basically created by the Southern Pacific Railroad (SP), which arrived in Tucson in 1880. The SP tracks ran right through the area that would become Barrio Anita, creating a de facto ethnic boundary: Mexicans on one side, Anglo-Americans on the other. Several black families settled in Barrio Anita, where they were welcomed (blacks could not live in “white” Tucson in those days). Yaqui Indians fleeing persecution in Mexico in the early 1900s also found refuge in Barrio Anita.
In 1903, the tract between the railroad tracks and the Santa Cruz River was developed by Thomas Hughes, who named the subdivision’s principal street for his sister Annie. The Mexican Americans in the area promptly Mexicanized “Annie” to “Anita,” from whence the barrio gets its name.
In its halcyon days, Barrio Anita was a lively, dynamic neighborhood. By 1920 there were approximately 150 households in Barrio Anita. The laughter and shouts of children were background music (or as we say around here, “daban segunda”) to the everyday hustle and bustle of the barrio. There were three gas stations, a hardware store, a pool hall, and other mom-and-pop businesses in the barrio.
And as was common in every Tucson barrio, there were several Chinese-owned stores in Barrio Anita. A great feature of these Chinese-owned stores was that they gave “fiado,” i.e., credit. Whoever was buying – usually the mother or one of the older children – would sign a chit, or the storekeeper would record the sale in a ledger, and on payday the accounts were settled, and a new “fiado” cycle would begin. Storeowners also often gave “pilón” – a free penny candy – to the children.
Besides Silvia, this small barrio has produced a good number of notable Tucsonans. Except for her late brother Frankie Wood, a high-profile Chicano-civil rights leader, I’m not going to name any here for fear of forgetting some. But these notables run the gamut of education, religion, literature, civil rights, politics, art, sports, and health care.
Diglossia, anyone?
Silvia’s novel is narrated by the title character, Quinta Soledad del Valle, a barrio scribe.
Silvia’s novel is narrated by the title character, Quinta Soledad del Valle, a barrio scribe, i.e., she types (and sometimes composes) letters and other documents for barrio residents. Quinta was raised by her grandmother, Nana Conchita, in Barrio Anita. The book covers six decades of family history, taking you from Barrio Anita to Salinas, California and to Magdalena de Kino, Sonora, Mexico as Quinta and her four sisters – all named for flowers – visit their mother Lola’s birthplace, a trip that becomes quite raucous. La Quinta Soledad intersperses painful childhood memories with humor and barrio history.
Silvia’s grasp of Barrio Spanish is superlative, and it is organic. That is, she didn’t learn it. She grew up hearing and speaking it. She exemplifies perfectly the linguistic notion of diglossia, wherein two levels of a language exist – one more formal than the other – and are used within a single language community. Besides her rich imagination and creative plotting, a large part of Silvia’s genius is her mastery of language, her ability to manipulate words so as to make them come alive – and in multiple languages at that (one of the plays, “Yo, Casimiro Flores,” in Silvia’s first book, “Barrio Dreams,” has dialogue in Spanish, English, and Yaqui). Barrio Spanish is not simply a literary device for Silvia – she still speaks it.
How `bout them nicknames…
The characters that people Silvia’s writings also establish her bona fides, re: her barrio roots: El Penguin. La Peanut Butter. El Maromas. El Chino Loco. La Molacha. El Yemo. El Chueco. La Cuata. Doña Remedios. Indeed, Chicanos/as love nicknames – we’re generous with them.
Some nicknames are “two-fers,” that is, they come with one’s first name. For example: “Cuco” for Refugio … “Concha” for Concepción … “Monchi” for Ramón (Raymond) …“Chavela” (“Chabela”) for Isabela. Physical characteristics often spawned nicknames, some of which were hurtful and mean. “Chatos” and “Chatas” were pug-nosed … “Gordos” and “Gordas” were on the pudgy side while the “Flacos” and Flacas,” “Huilos” and “Huilas” (also “Güilos” and “Güilas”)* were on the slim side … “Tuerto” had a lazy eye and “Sambo” was bowlegged … “Güeros” and “Güeras” were light-skinned … “Zurdo” was left-handed …
Chicanos/as love nicknames – we’re generous with them.