Those who know Luis Alberto Urrea for his acclaimed nonfiction work might be taken aback by his latest collection of short stories, "Six Kinds of Sky."
At least until they read it.
This collection shows Urrea in fine form. His writing is lithe, yet muscular. Even in his nonfiction work, Urrea has been praised as having the heart of a poet. This collection will do nothing to dispel that notion.
In the space of six stories, Urrea takes us through a tapestry of both ethnic and human experience. He also works gradually from seemingly lighter subject matter to finish with stories that touch on darker subjects and emotions.
Setting five of his stories in rural settings - small Mexican towns as well as a reservation in South Dakota and a road trip that ends in northern Colorado - Urrea manages to give much different view of life in those towns. At the same time, he touches on a few aspects that seem to be constants in small towns - like quirky characters, the mitote and the yearning to be somewhere else.
Urrea starts with "Mr. Mendoza's Paintbrush," a tale of adolescent awakening bracketed by the presence of an elderly man whose graffiti is a revelatory nuisance to the townspeople. The story follows the exploits of the adolescent narrator who is just discovering the female form - mostly through holes in roofs and between the branches of trees. He and a friend fall victim to Mendoza's paintbrush after peeping at some girls washing in the river. But rather than curse him, as many townsfolk do, they receive his message loud and clear.
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The next story, "Taped to the Sky," follows a man on a road trip away from his wife who has run away with her Alcoholics Anonymous group leader. Eventually the man's car gives out near Fort Collins, Colo., but the adventures and revelations don't stop with the burnt out Volvo. In fact, they begin with more ferocity after the vehicle stops moving.
Urrea really hits his stride with the middle two stories, "First Light" and "A Day in the Life".
"First Light" tells the story of an American cousin who visits his family in a small town in Mexico. The pocho cousin arrives to find that his love, his cousin Cristina, has been betrothed to marry a horrible local man. The tension between the two drives the story, but it is also carried by the hijinks created by the narrator and his male cousins as well as the anticipation of the new family-owned cinema. In the end the first light Urrea refers to is the light of knowledge, which slowly dawns as the story goes along.
"A Day in the Life" is the gem of the six. Telling the story of a family living near the Mexico/California border as it trudges its way through what starts as a typical day.
Along the way, we find out the many intricacies of lives within the family as well as within the village. Even when extraordinary events impose their will on the family and town, there is a sense of calm and reassurance that comes with the revelations.
Urrea's final two stories, "Father returns from the Mountain" and "Bid Farewell to Her Many Horses," both deal with death and reconciliation. Their tone is easily the darkest of the book. "Father" is an almost autobiographical story that recounts a son's reclamation of his father's body after a car accident in Central Mexico. The line between fiction and nonfiction blurs most sharply here. But it doesn't soften the sting of the story.
"Bid Farewell" is the tale of a man who returns to his wife's reservation to bury her after she has died of cancer. The reconciliation here is not only between him and her family. It also seems to be the reconciliation of cultures, as this American Romeo buries his Indigenous Juliet, who left the rez with him against the wishes of her family.
"Six Kinds of Sky" is not a quick read, but it's not needlessly thick with literary references. Urrea's strong point is his dialogue, whether it's the playful banter between cousins or the careful, strained introduction of strangers. He also has a deft hand with humor, mostly understated and decidedly not slapstick.
Urrea also manages to keep the action moving, giving the stories a panoramic feel. The flow of his words is so nuance that you barely feel the pages turning.
"Six Kinds of Sky" is a triumph by Urrea, whose story telling ability is matched only by his passion for the subjects.
Should Hollywood go looking for someone to take "Hispanic-themed" movies out of la pinta or the kitchen, Urrea is the man to do it. He's already doing it in literary circles.
