An Interview with Mexican-American Speculative Fiction Author Cesar Torres

Author Cesar Torres was born in Mexico City and lived there until he was 12, when he and his family immigrated to the United States. His latest book is a collection of stories titled The 12 Burning Wheels.

Tell me about your development as a writer.
I was trained in print journalism at the Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University, but I have been writing fiction since about the age of twelve. I begged my parents to let me use their Olivetti typewriter, and at some point, they relented. I was published in print in my twenties in newspapers and magazines, but didn’t make fiction sales until my thirties.

Twelve is kind of an important age. It’s the end of childhood and the beginning of the journey into adulthood. Why did you begin writing then?
I began writing then because I was reading so much, basically. I had always been a huge reader, but by 12 and 13 I was devouring novels at an alarming clip and simply wanted to be able to write like the authors I enjoyed.

Who were you reading then?
I was reading a mix: Madeleine L’Engle and Edgar Allen Poe, classics like the Iliad and a lot of Stephen King…lots. My parents didn’t censor my reading habits and interests.

What was it like growing up in Mexico City?
Mexico City is one of the most amazing, beautiful cities in the world. My experiences there were monumental in shaping me. I had access to so much culture – my culture – in Mexico City. I could visit Aztec ruins, colonial streets, skyscrapers and amazing museums all in one day. They all live and breathe there in one giant city. Sure, it’s polluted and the sky is mostly brown, but the energy of the place…It’s only equaled by places like Tokyo or New York.

What was it like coming to America?
America was tough, as I guess it is for any immigrant, but I saw the whole place as a thing of wonder. I was excited about learning new words (I had studied some English in grammar school), and there was an energy that was so different here. I was also excited about snow, as a lot of immigrants from warmer climates are. However, people often mispronounced my name in school. It may sound trite, but that was one of the most upsetting experiences growing up in Chicago. It was perhaps more upsetting than outright racist comments (which are easier to respond to).

How have your experiences – as both growing up in two cultures, and as an immigrant – influenced your writing?
I think it’s one of the biggest influences in my writing. As a Mexican national who also has U.S. citizenship, I see myself as a hybrid. In Mexican culture, we already think of ourselves this way, as Mestizos, combined from Indian and Spanish ancestry. Living in the U.S. has added a whole new dimension to this. In my writing, the hybrid, like a chimera, a werewolf, shapeshifter, emerges as a figure, and it’s not coincidence I am fascinated by the mind and the body’s ability to mutate and morph. I am also fascinated by the culture’s ability to morph, as well.

Are there ways that Mexicans see the fantastic – in or out of literature – that are essentially different from North Americans?
Absolutely! Mexico is a very Catholic and superstitious, country, and it’s a tradition that is older than the colonial period. In the times of Olmecs, Aztec and Maya, religion and the concepts of the incorporeal and the mystical were part of every day life. Belief in the monsters, gods and nature as entities was there for a long time, and as modern Mexicans, though we may not always admit it, we are very influenced by superstition and the fantastical. We don’t classify literature into categories as much as Americans do. Jules Verne, Poe, Beowulf – even Harry Potter – are seen as works of literature. The distinction of fantasy isn’t the same. And of course, Mexicans are in love with legend and myth. It is part of our cultural tradition.

The debate over undocumented immigration has been in the news a lot lately, especially in the response to recent legislature in Arizona. Will these sorts of stories influence your work?
Inevitably, I think they will actually bring them higher, closer to the surface. The theme is already there in some ways. I write often about the concept of “the other,” of feeling outside. And of course, we are now living in times where legislation and political climate are going to impact lots of writers’ work. We have a national debate that will really change the future of this country. I don’t consider myself a political writer, but my subconscious certainly is. My stories will likely touch on those elements in my work.

Americans and Mexicans have a complicated history: we share a common bond to Europe, live on the same land and, certainly, we benefit from each other economically, albeit not always fairly. How do Mexicans see their neighbors to the north?
The million dollar question, ha! Well, it’s complicated like you say. We poke fun at the American lifestyle, but we also want iPods and designer jeans. We are closely connected to our culture (based on family relationships), but we consume lots of American culture in the media. We beat ourselves up in our national consciousness. We feel like we could be working harder to perform better as a nation, to not have to rely on the United States so much economically. We lash ourselves for it, we really do. And yet, we cannot deny we are inextricably linked. The U.S. depends on us and us on them. If we accepted this fact more head on, I think we would make more progress from both sides of the border.

What do Americans need to understand about Mexicans, especially newcomers to our country?
Americans need to understand that Mexicans want the SAME things that Americans do. They want a safe world for their children to live in. They want education and opportunities. They need to know that Mexicans are some of the hardest working people out there, and that their close connections to their families and their ancient cultures are something to be treasured. We may have a huge controversy currently over immigration reform, but Americans, especially when they interact with individuals who are Mexican, need to see them as people. They need to know that Mexicans are coming over to the U.S. in a manner that is no less different than those who came here on the Mayflower.

Is there anything that Mexicans need to understand about Americans?
Yes. They need to know that American values are also worthwhile. The self determination of Americans and their entrepreneurial creativity are virtues. They also need to know that there’s no single way of defining Americans. Some are very open to foreigners and the unknown, others not so much. But they are worth knowing. Mexicans need to understand the heterogeneous nature of America and respect it. They also need to know Americans can’t get enough of Mexican food, so let’s all sit down for a big Mexican meal, roast a pig and make some salsa.

Tell me about your new book.
The 12 Burning Wheels is a collection of twelve compact short stories. The range is wide: Some are scary as shit, some truly strange, and some are solemn. The stories also touch on themes of magic, monsters, forgotten gods and dystopian futures. And yes, there are stories in Mexico, and stories set in Chicago. And I almost forgot! On the sci-fi side, my stories in 12BW also focus a lot on what I call machine lore: mechanical devices, old machines and new machines. Computers, too.

How did you develop your fascination with “machine lore?”
I am not really clear on how. It just occurred to me one day that my interests didn’t lie with robots and conventional sci-fi. I thought, what if old machines, like typewriters, lathes and printing presses, had a mythology all of their own? Or, inversely, what if the machines of the future might have a mystical component to them? My 12th story in 12BW is about an iPhone app of the future. You tell it your dream from the night before, and it deciphers it for you. Sinister shit!

What does the title of the book mean?
The title came from a vision in a dream. I was dreaming a lot about a city made of fire, with yellow spires, and it occurred to me that The 12 Burning Wheels would make a good title. I also just realized this past winter that there’s another connection: When I wrote the book I was commuting 13 miles daily to my job in Chicago downtown and perhaps my love of bikes, and wheels, influenced the title as well, but I see the stories as 12 spokes in a wheel: they are part of a whole and they turn, turn, turn.

Where can we learn more about you?
To learn more about me (and ask me about machine lore), you can go to my blog, follow me on Twitter, or join my Facebook Fan Page. Say hello, and chat with me often. I like talking to readers and other writers.