Old California Strikes Back (Flowersong Press, 2024) by Scott Russell Duncan is a spunky whirlwind of a journey, reclaiming Indigenous roots, stories, and property. This work of autofiction is a successful exploration of Duncan’s mixed-race identity through both his own reflections—making up a memoir aspect of the book—and the telling of the story through two distinct characters: Zorro, our white and inflated definer of Chicano folklore, and Scott Russell Duncan himself—a Chicano American navigating his journey to reclaim Chicano culture. Duncan corrects Zorro who has edited Chicano and Californio (Native Californians descended from Spanish settlers) lore to appeal to tourists, and writes his own tale with corrections on top of the guidebook narrated and originally written by Zorro; the two voices intertwine almost conversationally. Old California Strikes Back transforms into a fantastically real journey equipped with sidekicks, villains, and real fight scenes to illustrate the uphill fight against structures of violence enacted against Indigenous Americans. Duncan also transcends his own personal timeline, telling a memoir not only of his Indigenous experience, but also of the experience of those who came before him.

In his quest to reclaim Chicano culture, Duncan searches for the hidden treasure of a famed Chicano, Ramona, with whom he aligns but who has also become a theme of tourists traps along Chicano areas in Alta California. The Chicano story of Ramona is introduced to the reader through Zorro, who asserts himself as an Indigenous narrator and the voice of a guidebook on touring through Alta or low California. His unreliability is revealed through the linguistic harm he does to Californio society in his aggrandized and objectifying version of the Ramona tale. Duncan writes his reflections and edits in what he refers to as his Ramona diary on top of the pages of Zorro’s guidebook. The diary is made up of a collection of vignettes, reflections, musings occurring to the author along his journey to reclaim both his story and his wealth. He corrects, adds personal history, but most of all narrates his journey to find the treasure associated with Ramona: the Ramona jewels. In both his journey and the chapters he inserts between what he keeps of Zorro’s guidebook, Duncan takes his history back from Anglo-Saxon exploitation. Through the Ramona story, and his navigation to the jewels, Duncan finds that his mixed-race identity does have a home in Indigenous folklore. At the outset of his journey, he states,

“The jewels could be anywhere here, but I know they’re also in my blood, in my head, in the only California that’s real to me, the one I carry, the quaking California inside. But I’ll find them. Because whatever there is to Ramona, fake or real, the half-caste, the Mexican American, the Californio, the Native American, the Scotswoman, it belongs to me, the (true) son of the son of the son of the son of the son of Ramona.” (Duncan, 12)

In the diary, Duncan opens up about a complicated family life, separated parents, and understanding why his family kept certain aspects of his culture hidden from him—including language—while also longing for those aspects. For one, he navigates understanding how his Chicano grandfather is treated; although much is the same discrimination as himself, Duncan feels worse seeing it on someone else, especially compared to the treatment his white father receives. “I was tired of the Brown experience,” he states, “something that drew in all the anger and suspicion in my life from other kids, teachers, cops, clerks at the mall, security guards, and the parents of friends who wouldn’t let me or any other Mexican in their house” (Duncan 80). Growing up with his Chicano mother, Duncan has found himself experiencing this discrimination from an early age, something he can sometimes escape when with his dad.

Through both Zorro’s description of their culture and his own experiences, Duncan highlights the objectification of Chicanos, how colonizing actors looking to capitalize on their culture are turning them into zoo attractions and tourist traps. Zorro turns the Californio into the other, talking about them as less than human. At one point he states, “much more worthy than the average Mexican, the noble Californio is nearly gone from their native land due to cross breeding and the inevitable, pre-ordained thrusting rise of the Anglo-Saxon” (Duncan 108). Duncan himself experiences this otherness and objectification from a young age. He fives the example of playing “cowboys and Indians” with his childhood friends, an instance in which he would always have to be the Indian (Duncan 104). Duncan adds an understanding of additional female oppression to this—demonstrating an early indoctrination into the mode of thought that Indigenous women are property to be conquered. He can balance an understanding of how his upbringing allowed him to recognize this oppression of women, while also understanding aspects of his upbringing that led to his participation in those same systems of oppression. I found the nuance with which he approaches this issue refreshing and intelligent.

Old California Strikes Back culminates in an action-packed fight between Duncan and Zorro over the Ramona jewels, or the ownership of Duncan’s cultural identity. Duncan imprisons Zorro and can question him head-on. The conversational tone of the Indigenous history-teaching and Duncan’s matter-of-fact narration make the lessons of this book not only compelling to read but also more than easy to understand. As a reader, I was instantly rooting for the reclamation of personal culture, history, and land by the author.

Old California Strikes Back is available from Flowersong Press

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Annabel Phoel is a junior studying English and Government/International Relations between William & Mary and the University of St Andrews, where she currently resides. She is a staff writer on St Andrews’ Not Applicable Magazine and helps on their editorial board. When not writing or studying, Annabel is rowing on various lochs in Scotland.