Bad Mexican, Bad American by José Hernández Díaz review by Rey M. Rodríguez

Bad Mexican, Bad American by José Hernández Díaz

Review by Rey M. Rodríguez

Publisher: Acre Books

Publication Date: March 5, 2024

ISBN: 1946724734

Pages: 82

Reading José Hernández Díaz’s poetry book, Bad Mexican, Bad American, is like quenching a thirst that for too long has gone unsatisfied. Latinos in general, and Chicanos in particular, yearn for rich, full and authentic expressions of our community. Hernández provides the perfect elixir to address this need through his beautifully drawn personal poems and his whimsically surreal prose poetry. But Hernández should not be read as only appealing to Latinos. Instead, his writings, much like in the tradition of Charles Simic, are so accessible that anyone who reads this book, regardless of their background, will be left satisfied – finding their own humanity easily reflected in the words – and happy to read the poems again and again.

His most personal writings appear in the first section of the book. “Doña Ofelia” is one where the poet divulges his secret to writing a poem. He writes near the end: “I say that all it takes is one moment…” In this case, it is how Doña Ofelia, his friend’s grandmother who lives in a Mexican pueblo and is visiting California, never turns down a kid asking for food. This small gesture is appreciated by the men who live in the town and migrate to and from the United States. Upon their return, after working tough jobs and coming to visit, “they always pay respects or buy gifts for Doña Ofelia.” It is the act of giving beans for their bolillos that enshrines her with respect from the community. Hernández is right that it only takes one moment to draw the reader in and try to imagine the taste of those beans, especially when a person is at his most desperate moment; and what a wonderful abuelita she is to comfort the hungry in their hour of need. He concludes his poem by writing: “‘As for Doña Ofelia, I tell him, she is part of the old ways of Mexico. We are lucky to have her,’ I say.”

We are lucky to have Hernández, too, because he is such a wonderful storyteller, cogently telling stories through his poetry that will touch anyone, such as in “My Father Never Ate Until Everyone Had Eaten.” This poem could only be written with the passage of time, because when the poet was younger, he had certain views of his father that changed when he was an adult. As a child, he would get angry that his father would not sit at the head of the table with the whole family. That was all he wanted, along with watching the Lakers and Dodgers with him. He did not know at the time that his father wanted to be sure that all had had enough to eat. With maturity, Hernández writes:

                 But now I know, I ate because of my father’s sacrifice, and there is nothing—no painting 
                 or poem—
 
                 as beautiful as a father’s ineffable love.

Again, Hernández is right and it is his deft writing that ensures this poem lands without sounding trite or too sweet. He grounds the poem in a reality felt by far too many fathers.

The title poem, “Bad Mexican, Bad American,” is one that anyone who feels out of place can relate to intimately. For Mexican-Americans, we often do not feel of the United States or of Mexico. We lie somewhere in between. At the root of the poem is identity. What defines someone as Mexican or from the United States? Is it the sports they watch? Soccer or football? The food they eat? Carne asada or BBQ? Or the language they speak? Spanish or English? For Hernandez, none of these truly matter; it is not necessary to choose a side. It is more important how we treat others in the end. And by implication, being comfortable with all that we are so we may respect and love others for all that they are. Hernández writes:

        	It was said before me, it will be said after: how you treat
                    	Folks is all that matters, to the dying question:
 
        	How do you want to be remembered?

It is this type of wisdom that Hernández calls all of us to reach and explains why his poetry is universal and should be read broadly.

This sageness could not be more evident in his surrealist prose poetry, because it is here that the poet is free of all labels and boxes. He is liberated to be himself in the world of men wearing Carlos Santana t-shirts trying to find their voice “beneath a crisp pile of autumn leaves.”  Or others who are wearing Pink Floyd t-shirts riding a horse on a beach. Or going on a date with Frida Kahlo. It is in this surreal world where the poet can have all of the conversations he wants (wearing any type of t-shirt he wants) with his heroes from Octavio Paz to James Tate to Russell Edson to Pablo Picasso to Marosa di Giorgio. The reader cannot help but smile and become lost in this world where the only thing that matters is our humanity.

A wonderful example of the poet’s entanglement with all readers of this playful book can be found in the poem, “My Life as a French Existential Novelist.” Hernandez writes, “I’d always wanted to be a French Existentialist; now that I was one, I refused to wear a beret or the color black.” The beauty of this book is that it invites the reader to a world outside her every day experience and into a world of her imagination. It is an invitation to dream to be whatever the reader may wish to be, especially if they have not yet dared to do so. Hernandez calls us to be that French Existentialist or not, but if we decide to be one then we must do it on our terms and not on those that society imposes. The reader may be that French philosopher who wears a sombrero in place of the beret and wears a charro colored Dodger blue in place of black. Hernandez reminds us that poetry can set us free to do anything that our imagination dreams up and it is exactly what this moment requires.

At a time when national politicians are spewing anti-immigrant hate towards desperate migrants crossing the US/Mexico border, we need the poetry of Hernandez to remind us that we are all interconnected and in great need for one another. I cannot think of a more important moment for his work to be read and discussed in our classrooms and public fora. We desperately need a counter-narrative to hate so that the mainstream community knows about our dreams and aspirations. These reminders of our humanity are not luxuries that sit in libraries unread, but instead critical shields from the violence towards our Latino communities. For too long, we have been erased or ignored from the national discourse of what is important literature. The result is that we have few serious outlets to protect ourselves from rhetoric that demeans and makes us feel small. Bad Mexican, Bad American is truly like water for all of us in a desert of headlines saying that we do not belong.

José Hernández Díaz is a 2017 NEA Poetry Fellow. He is author of The Fire Eater (Texas Review Press, 2020) Bad Mexican, Bad American (Acre Books, 2024) The Parachutist (Sundress Publications 2025) and Portrait of the Artist as a Brown Man (Red Hen Press, 2025).

Rey M. Rodríguez is a writer, advocate, and attorney, who lives in Pasadena, California. He is currently working on a novel set in Mexico City and a non-fiction history of a prominent nonprofit in East LA. He has attended the Yale Writers’ Workshop multiple times and Palabras de Pueblo workshop once. He also currently is participating in a selective Story Studio Novel in a Year Program. He recently was accepted in the Institute for American Indian Arts’ MFA Program in creative writing. This fall his poetry will be published in Huizache and you can find his other book reviews at La Bloga, the world’s longest-established Chicana-Chicano, Latina-Latino literary blog. 

4 September 2024