Justice League of America
Los 7 originales
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This is it; this is what the world needs now, a group of superheroes who come in at the last minute to save the planet. The only thing is, these superheroes do not wear flashy capes, they do not wear their underwear over their regular clothes, they cannot fly or lift trucks and buses, but they still have superpowers. They write in two languages, possess x-ray vision to see the world as it is and as it should be, and to persuade and convince with their writing. They unite us and expand our minds. The secret power the reader perceives in this Justice League is the synergy of a multicultural, multilingual fiesta —a fiesta Latina. Besides giving you the feeling that you can jump over buildings, this bilingual compilation is more of a celebration of our shared humanity than a fight to the death with the powers of evil.
The opening titles allow you to settle in with your popcorn. The Nota introductoria by Antonio Ojeda and the Prólogo by John Burns whet your appetite for what is to come. The first section, Wonder Woman, features women poets. Irene Gómez Castellano, with "Engendrar Monstruos: Nuevo Reino," and Kate Nourizadeh, with “La última mujer,” exercise the superpower of femininity with an unassuming, personal approach that belies the formidable power that hides in those lines. On the other hand, for Tina Escaja, “La teta derecha / or nipple / de la Wonder Woman” and Silvia Goldman’s “Inventario de poderes,” the female body is the superpower itself. In Goldman’s case, it is not even the sexual body, but the broken one that conveys the unique power of fragility, sickness, and breast cancer. The superpower of vulnerability cannot be matched. |
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Ivonne Gordon elegantly expounds on the history and legend of Wonder Woman —from Hypatia, Safo, and Gabriela to Lynda Carter, and from Mulan to Buffy. Meanwhile, Carmen Concha-Nolte builds on that base and creates Wikiwoman to fight this techno, online, app world that devours us, and torpedoes our attention span, or is it the other way around? Tatianna Verswyvel Popcev writes a brief but powerful vindication of women, dedicated to pioneering poet Alfonsina Stormi. This first section, this selection of poems, is a triumph of the feminine.
Gordon E. McNeer writes the second section, Superman. The opening poem, “Kryptonite Blues,” needs to be read in the slow blues cadence of Eric Clapton while “La historia de Superman” should be read in the key of the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil” or Billy Joel’s “We Didn't Start the Fire,” as Superman flies through references of Don Quijote, García Márquez, Dostoyevski, Voltaire, Béquer, and so on, ending, appropriately, in TIKTOK.
Green Lantern is written by Alex Lima, who seamlessly and hopefully threads his bilingual verses dropping the beat on key words: Silencio, esperanza, ataraxia.
Daniel Chávez Landeros writes Batman, a metaphysical, Spanish-speaking Batman, imbued in Valle-Inclán’s esperpento, who would have liked to live in South America with his sidekick, Robin, but instead lives not in Gotham but in Ciudad Gótica, which involuntarily but unfailingly takes one to the old, narrow streets of Barcelona’s Barri Gòtic.
The fastest man in the world, The Flash, is authored by Miguel Antonio Guevara. Guevara manages to draw out The Flash’s humanism, his “impostor síndrome,” his existential crisis, in lines such as: “Apunta en su Diario: explorar-mi-propia-dualidad, / la del hombre más rápido del mundo, / cuya velocidad contrasta con la lentitud / de encontrar significado y conexión / en un mundo acelerado.” For Guevara’s The Flash, speed is less of a superpower and more of an obstacle to his humanity.
A quote from “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou” sets the tone for Jeremy Paden’s Aquaman. Paden’s enigmatic and mysterious Aquaman, who would have liked to be a farmer, is also a bit of a literary critic who analyzes the “Adventures of Alexander the Great” (does that make the poem a meta-poem?) Like Guevara, Paden humanizes his superhero, but this time by associating Aquaman with a series of love interests, mostly oceanographers like Rachel Carson, Marie Tharp, or Sylvia Earle.
Coordinator Luis Correa-Díaz wraps up the volume with Martian Manhunter. In what might be the most humanizing of all the superheroes we have encountered, Correa-Díaz touches on death, his ashes, and his pop sensibilities. Amongst his trademark QR codes, Correa-Díaz weaves references to St. John of the Cross’ “Dark Night of the Soul,” the children of Gaza, or Bon Jovi.
Justice League of America; Los 7 originales is a necessary read. A brilliant idea, well-structured, masterfully executed; Seven superheroes, fourteen authors, forty-four poems that feed your soul, which make you smile, giggle, or question humanity. In a surprising spiritual connection, indubitably generated by the poets’ superpowers, the poems flow from author to author, from superhero to superhero. The English, Spanish, and Spanglish weave a rich, textured, colorful text that will stand the test of time like the comics it is inspired by. This is it; this is what the world needs now.
Gordon E. McNeer writes the second section, Superman. The opening poem, “Kryptonite Blues,” needs to be read in the slow blues cadence of Eric Clapton while “La historia de Superman” should be read in the key of the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil” or Billy Joel’s “We Didn't Start the Fire,” as Superman flies through references of Don Quijote, García Márquez, Dostoyevski, Voltaire, Béquer, and so on, ending, appropriately, in TIKTOK.
Green Lantern is written by Alex Lima, who seamlessly and hopefully threads his bilingual verses dropping the beat on key words: Silencio, esperanza, ataraxia.
Daniel Chávez Landeros writes Batman, a metaphysical, Spanish-speaking Batman, imbued in Valle-Inclán’s esperpento, who would have liked to live in South America with his sidekick, Robin, but instead lives not in Gotham but in Ciudad Gótica, which involuntarily but unfailingly takes one to the old, narrow streets of Barcelona’s Barri Gòtic.
The fastest man in the world, The Flash, is authored by Miguel Antonio Guevara. Guevara manages to draw out The Flash’s humanism, his “impostor síndrome,” his existential crisis, in lines such as: “Apunta en su Diario: explorar-mi-propia-dualidad, / la del hombre más rápido del mundo, / cuya velocidad contrasta con la lentitud / de encontrar significado y conexión / en un mundo acelerado.” For Guevara’s The Flash, speed is less of a superpower and more of an obstacle to his humanity.
A quote from “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou” sets the tone for Jeremy Paden’s Aquaman. Paden’s enigmatic and mysterious Aquaman, who would have liked to be a farmer, is also a bit of a literary critic who analyzes the “Adventures of Alexander the Great” (does that make the poem a meta-poem?) Like Guevara, Paden humanizes his superhero, but this time by associating Aquaman with a series of love interests, mostly oceanographers like Rachel Carson, Marie Tharp, or Sylvia Earle.
Coordinator Luis Correa-Díaz wraps up the volume with Martian Manhunter. In what might be the most humanizing of all the superheroes we have encountered, Correa-Díaz touches on death, his ashes, and his pop sensibilities. Amongst his trademark QR codes, Correa-Díaz weaves references to St. John of the Cross’ “Dark Night of the Soul,” the children of Gaza, or Bon Jovi.
Justice League of America; Los 7 originales is a necessary read. A brilliant idea, well-structured, masterfully executed; Seven superheroes, fourteen authors, forty-four poems that feed your soul, which make you smile, giggle, or question humanity. In a surprising spiritual connection, indubitably generated by the poets’ superpowers, the poems flow from author to author, from superhero to superhero. The English, Spanish, and Spanglish weave a rich, textured, colorful text that will stand the test of time like the comics it is inspired by. This is it; this is what the world needs now.
Justice League of America; Los 7 originales is a publication by Editorial Oxeda S.A.S. de C.V.
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