In Stereo Press

by:  Daniel Dissinger

On June 9th, 2010, Tim Z. Hernandez read at the East Harlem Cafe along with fellow writer, and friend, Jason F. McDaniel.  Closing out the last leg of his promotional tour for his new book, Breathing, In Dust, Tim Hernandez wowed an attentive audience on 104th street and Lexington Avenue.

This is Tim’s second book. In 2004, Tim’s first book, a collection of poems called Skin Tax, waspublished and won the American Book Award.  Breathing, In Dust will be his first published full-length novel.

A master storyteller, Tim Hernandez mixes emotionally filled details with a poetic rhythm missing in most prose and contemporary poetry, which also comes out strongly in his live readings.  Here is an excerpt from the introduction of his book entitled “What it means to say Catela”:

On the other side of town, Hmong women crouch in their gardens, flooding baby bok choy until the water slithers down and across the road.  Meanwhile their sons and daughters mix it up with Chicano hip-hoppers who buy, sell, and trade car parts and rims that spin at a standstill.  Somewhere, the pudgy stay-at-home moms are gossiping about Jesus’s sister, Ana, who lost her virginity at age thirteen in a grape field by the boys on her block, whispering abut how they laid her out on raisin paper and took turns– why, she’s got three kids now and no man wants her.

Beyond this, land, land, and more land, cultivated or just waiting to.  A pug farm on the outskirts.  A driveway made of mud and loose gravel.  A house with a dim porch light, where a young boy thumbs over a three-dimensional globe.  His soft fingers roll over the mountains of Appalachia, then south to Machu Picchu.  He spins the ball on its axis and lands on Sweden.  Hits the lights.  Puts himself to bed.  And listens for the distant clacking of the passing train singing, Catela, Catela, Catela, Catela. (Hernandez xiii).

Jason McDaniel, another great storyteller, opened the reading with his story “Walk Like a Man”, which was published by the online Zine Retort Magazine. The rawness of the dialogue, brought the narrative to newheights, and his performance of the piece was just as enjoyable as reading it on paper.  A snapshot of emotionally driven redemption and righting of wrongs, “Walk Like a Man” is relatable to anyone familiar with the heaviness of a guilty concience:

The clock next to the bed said Vasso was a half hour late, but Kendell wasn’t in a hurry to leave anyhow.  The rain had finally stopped.  Kendell stood in the window looking at the wet street.  He had the smell of Lydia all over him and wished it could last for days and days.
Vasso’s car pulled up in the parking lot under his window.  He honked once and looked up at Kendell’s window.
Kendell nodded.  “It’s time baby.”
Lydia opened her eyes into hazy slits.  “You really gonna do this?”
“Come on baby.  Vasso’s outside.”
“I want to go with you.”
“We’ve already been through that.  I don’t want nothing coming down on you harder than it already has.”
She got up, wrapped the sheets around her waist and walked over to him.  “I love you.”
“I know.”
She followed him to the door, dragging the sheets across the carpet.  “I’ll write you.  And send money, too.”
Kendell let himself imagine her actually writing him.  Maybe this time she would.  He said, “Yeah, baby.  Write me about every little thing.”
She threw herself around him.  He kissed her hard.  It would have been easier just to not feel anything, but then it wouldn’t have been worth nothing.  (McDaniel)

At the end of the reading, there were only two copies of Breathing, In Dust to be sold; I grabbed one up immediately, and started to read it on the 6 train back home.