
Simultaneously, our lives change and stay the same. We always end up where we began, our home. With regards to family, home can be complicated or simple or both. Each year I age, I settle into the idea of always needing to go home. In my late teenhood and early 20s, I demanded a reason to visit my small town in south Texas. A birthday party, an ill family member, celebration of new life and death itself. That demand has turned into a longing and gratitude to still have a reason because despite all of our differences, I want to know the stories that came before me.
Ruthie Marlenée’s Agave Blues (Pelekinesis, 2024) follows main character, Maya, on her journey home to Mexico upon her estranged father’s death. Marlenée playfully weaves history and family stories with Maya’s painful present as she reconnects with her daughter Lily, extended family and friends on their agave farm. She has spent her life avoiding the inevitable return after immigrating to America upon her mother’s quest to leave for good. Maya’s character states,
“There’s something about death you can’t escape. But I didn’t cry now over the death of my father. I cried over the death of my childhood; a childhood I’d never get back. And none of it had been my fault. I’d only been a kid.” (Marlenée 36)
Through spirits, a blue genie, tequila, and family, Maya’s past is unraveled. Pushed back in time she faces visions of her abusive, drunk father and his dark history that came before him. The more she learns, the more she forgives and rekindles her love for herself.
While on the farm, Maya spends time painting with the ghost of her childhood best friend Gabriel. He guides her back into creativity which she had forgotten she loved. By painting alongside him, she remembers to love herself and who she once was. Inevitably, she learns she has cancer just as she begins to be curious about the idea of staying. When sitting with her diagnosis she thinks,
“Time was a healer. But I also knew now that the denial and its consequences had indeed taken a toll. At that moment, I was happy to hang it all up in the back of the closet of my mind as if it were just last season’s old dream, so out of style. I’d spend no more time thinking about it and got out of bed.” (Marlenée 36)
What can weigh the most is not the fear of forgetting a memory but the fear that it will be with you forever. What we let sit in our bodies may decide to borrow deep and never leave. Maybe it is the ache in the back of your neck or the heavy drag of your right leg that has yet to find its way to the left or worst of all, the dull ache in your chest that makes you wonder if your heart has any more to give. When painting and seeing Gabriel’s old work, Maya witnesses a younger version of herself come to life. At first she doesn’t recognize the girl as she has been removed from who she once was for a long time. Yet, the more she visits her past self she becomes familiar. By seeing this version of herself, Maya is able to reconcile with her shadowed past. She is able to move forward and consider that instead of returning to California, Mexico might be the most healing place for her.
Reading this novel has reminded me of my drive south to my small hometown. I watch the flat land littered with oak and cactus flash by the windows. I see the train tracks as I enter the town and homes I once knew. My childhood friends appear young again, walking down the street translucent. The Texas sun peering through them like ghosts, and I know they aren’t really there but it sure feels like they are. I see many versions of myself running through the yard I was raised in. Like Maya, we return home for a reason only for the reason to end and wonder why we wanted to leave in the first place. There is something peculiar about growing up to realize there are just as many reasons to stay as there are to go.
I feel there are many more ways this novel can conjure home for the reader. Marlenée does not shy away from stunning and detailed imagery. Even if you aren’t from Mexico or states along its border, the imagery can still trigger your sense of home because of the emotion that is held in it. There is something about the way she describes the landscape, weather, and even food that can be so universal but also deeply personal. Magic is working throughout these pages and I know I can’t be the only one who loves a good spell.
Agave Blues is available from Pelekinesis Press
Em Fullenwider (she/they) is a queer writer/poet born and raised in south Texas who received an MFA in poetry from Texas State University. They are currently working on a full length poetry collection and value building and maintaining community in Texas. You can catch them making coffee and craft or listening to good tunes in their free time.
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