Tag
El Mirador
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F(r)iction in Translation
This is the latest installment of El Mirador, an ongoing series curated by Francisco Cantú. Spanish for “the lookout point,” El Mirador collects original nonfiction, translation, and visual art on the American West, the US/Mexico borderlands, and Indian Country. There isn’t, a priori, a kinship between literary thrillers and thrillers about literature. Idra Novey’s debut novel, Ways to Disappear, however, seems…
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Twenty-Six Horses
This is the latest installment of El Mirador, an ongoing series curated by Francisco Cantú. Spanish for “the lookout point,” El Mirador collects original nonfiction, translation, and visual art on the American West, the US/Mexico borderlands, and Indian Country. It begins with a false start followed by a wrong turn, despite our being equipped with a GPS and topo maps. Which,…
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On Cicadas
This is the latest installment of El Mirador, an ongoing series curated by Francisco Cantú. Spanish for “the lookout point,” El Mirador collects original nonfiction, translation, and visual art on the American West, the US/Mexico borderlands, and Indian Country. I stand outside to smoke a cigarette. I walk from my car to a store. I…
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Gates
This is the latest installment of El Mirador an ongoing series curated by Francisco Cantú. Spanish for “the lookout point,” El Mirador collects original nonfiction, translation, and visual art on the American West, the US/Mexico borderlands, and Indian Country. At dusk we find the cave entrance buried in the Chiricahua Mountains of southeastern Arizona. The…
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Saguaro Sketchbook
This is the latest installment of El Mirador, an ongoing series curated by Francisco Cantú. Spanish for “the lookout point,” El Mirador collects original nonfiction, translation, and visual art on the American West, the US/Mexico borderlands, and Indian Country. Tucson, Arizona-based artist Danny Martin is known regionally for large-format Dia de los Muertos inspired murals and mixed media projects, as well…
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Not an Owl, Crow, or Coyote Be: The Navajo Creation Narrative for Day and Night
There was a string of muffled knocks at the front door. It was a few minutes past 11:00, during the fullest moon and coldest night of January. The temperature was 12 degrees and falling …
