REVIEW: Wonderland: Crónicas of Living in America
Wonderland:
Crónicas of Belonging in America
Melanie Márquez Adams
Mouthfeel Press
Review by Heidi Kasa
I originally wrote a formal book review showing that Wonderland: Crónicas of Belonging in América by Melanie Márquez Adams and translated by Emily Hunsberger is a nuanced journey illuminating lived experiences in the US from an Ecuadorian-born person’s perspective. I described Márquez Adams’ writing style as keen, calm, and reminiscent of the process of panning: gently swirling and agitating the pan, and rinsing lighter sediment softly away in layers to reveal the remaining gold pieces. Like in panning for gold, what you find can appear subtle, but its gleam is unmistakable.
This is still true. But I can’t ignore the current backdrop of intensifying ICE raids, government military overreach for another dramatic, violent distraction from the president’s other actions, and apathetic online voices denying the human rights of people living in this country. I find it crucial that others read this book.
Márquez Adams’ voice remains delicate. She works in subtlety, which some readers may think is not meeting this American moment with enough fire. If you’re looking for “predictable stories about immigrant pain and suffering pandering to the demand for trauma porn starring el dolor inmigrante,” per the author’s introduction, you won’t find that here. You will find an author who wields craft with incredible skill, layering concrete details, actions, and metaphors in real-life settings. You will find a work exploring the first form of opposition on multiple levels.
She writes about changing landscapes physically, emotionally, and socially, and chronicles differences in city and small town life—not without challenges. In “Appalachian Ballad,” Márquez Adams travels to a spot
“where you can stand with each foot in a different hemisphere … I speed up my footwork, trying to keep up. I dance with the lines and around them. En los márgenes and somewhere in between. It’s hard not to step on the lines. Nearly impossible not to transgress them.”
Besides delineating the finer points of cultural expectations metaphorically, her clear-eyed gaze focuses on small, intense joys: “The precocious curiosity in her eyes reminds me that she and I are not as different as we might think.” Márquez Adams argues for and sees people as human first, believing these connections are the most important. We’re seeing in real time this lesson has been easily forgotten in daily lives wrapped up in existing systems and shocking headlines.
I’m not someone who readily writes or reads much nonfiction, but I fell in love with Márquez Adams’ use of the crónica form. Hunsberger, the translator, explains the “crónica has evolved into a Latin American nonfiction genre that blends journalism, travel writing, and personal essay.” In this crónica at least, Márquez Adams dabs in surrealism. Spanish phrases are woven with the primarily English translation, because “Spanish and English coexist,” writes Hunsberger. Brackets with italicized text are dotted throughout, a fourth-wall breaking technique that feels like a commentary, emphasis, explanation, or dialogue integrating the reader. It defamiliarizes the text so readers embark on a journey through changing landscapes, too. We get a peek at the relationship between translator and author.
The situations created by this current administration are dramatic, traumatizing, and violent, and are often met with a loud, dramatic, and sometimes violent response. But sometimes what appears a muted response is a stronger one. Márquez Adams’ subverts with cleverness in the essay “The Ghost of the South.”
“Despite her affection for Nashville, not even a phantom is above the rules and regulations of this country, and the authorities wouldn’t recognize the Dama Tapada’s Ecuadorian license to spook inebriated partiers. Over time, they also prohibited her from using her veil (careful, here they are suspicious of people based on head coverings alone), which led her to realize it didn’t make sense to translate her name into English as the Veiled Lady.”
See how she blends aspects of her upbringing and current landscape, with dashes of surrealism?
Another favorite of the book is “Choose your own crónica: Inventory of an isla en peso and/or Inventory of the Weight of an Island.” Two pieces are presented, which allows readers to venture between two languages, to inhabit the between spaces, to experience a taste of going back and forth. Like the brackets, this extra interactivity is entertaining and engages the reader actively in the theme.
From the first essay, Márquez Adams resists the idea that people outside yourself can define you (define what home is for you, define who and what you love, define who you are). She brings readers along to visit an old college friend before heading off to graduate school in Iowa. Márquez Adams blends Alice in Wonderland references with the real-life description of a sculpture in Central Park, the backdrop for her friend explaining the phrase “people of color” to her for the first time. She tries to understand, but feels “A tumult of labels splays out before me, forming a landscape in which I’m not sure I belong.” But she concludes “the key to solving the riddle lies within me, in the stories that are mine to write.”
This can feel quiet to some readers—the declaration is not to her friend, but to herself. Yet a promise to the self is the strongest commitment, where opposition to injustice begins. In this contemporary moment, the emotional resonances Márquez Adams is gifted at providing are amplified. She shares the weight of heartbreak in “Interpreting the American Dream,” making readers aware of difficulties regarding deportation where people are living their lives.
I had written many more sentences about Márquez Adams’ craft, and her essay describing her experience with a stalker and the infuriating lack of support she received in “One Hundred Corn Fields of Solitude.” If you read the book, you’ll find out what promises Márquez Adams makes to herself and women everywhere. This compact collection appears gentle, but it’s fighting the same fight as those currently in the streets and courtrooms: your humanity and how you define yourself matter.
