An Interview with Daniel Olivas

Abstract

An Interview with Daniel Olivas Frederick Luis Aldama Daniel Olivas is a real modern-day superhero. Land use and conservation attorney by day and poet, playwright, fiction author, editor, and essayist by night, Olivas works relentlessly to transform our world for the better. In his fiction (short and long form and kid's picture book), poetry, and plays he dances between genre, tone, voice—as well as Spanish and English, myth and everyday gritty reality. Reading Olivas, I think of authors like Edgar Allan Poe, Nelida Piñon, and Sergio Pitol who masterfully reframe everyday interpersonal relations and interactions in new and often uncanny ways that reverberate across our imagination and soul. And, when Olivas leans into storytelling modes like the fantastic or magical realist, he does so in ways that revitalize and never repeat or onerously duplicate these forms. In each of his fictional works (long or short) we see an elasticity of form and voice as well as deft ability to slow down time and space in ways that open our hearts to experience the minutiae of quotidian Chicano life: complex layers of faith in our lives, intergenerational language conflicts and confusions, blue-versus white-collar clashes within families, the full lives of those whom society has written off, Latinx elderly. He takes us into those unexpected sweet everyday coincidences and human moments of subtle exchange that reveal something deep about Latinx life—and the human condition generally. In addition to publishing of books of fiction and poetry, his writing appears in the New York Times, Los Angeles Review of Books, The Guardian, La Bloga, BOMB, High Country News, Huffington Post, Los Angeles Times, El Paso Times, and the Jewish Journal. His first play, Waiting for Godínez, was selected for the Playwrights' Arena Summer Reading Series and The Road Theatre's 12th Annual Summer Playwrights Festival. A shorter pandemic version of that play had its world premiere in 2021, produced by Playwrights' Arena under the title Waiting. I had the wonderful opportunity to speak with Daniel Olivas about his latest collection of short stories, How to Date a Flying Mexican, and so much more. [End Page 43] frederick luis aldama: Daniel, you've published a children's book, a poetry collection, numerous books of short fiction, longer form novel and novella, and edited two anthologies. Taken as a whole, how do you see your work adding to and innovating Latinx literature—and intervening in the world generally? daniel olivas: Borders are imposed throughout our world, not only politically but also creatively. My writing bends genres. It has no borders. It's political because it's deeply rooted in my Chicano heritage and identity. They shout from rooftops: Our stories matter. fla: In the introduction to How to Date a Flying Mexican, you mention your deep need to write into existence stories about the Latinx experience. do: The stories are about my people. They are our stories. They also aim to bring joy to the reader—and to resonate deeply with the human condition. fla: We're not bad hombres, as the mainstream might have people believe. Your fiction breathes sensitivity and nuance into all walks of Latinx life. Is this your legacy? do: As I grow older, I do think deeply about what I'm going to be leave behind. There's a concept in Judaism, tikkun olam, that refers to our acts of repairing and making better the world. We can do this in small ways like showing kindness to people. We can do it in big ways through politics and activism. I try to do this in my day job as a government lawyer practicing land use and environmental enforcement and affordable housing law. I try do to this in my creative work. fla: You and a handful of other Latinx author-attorney nepantlera warriors—I think readily of Michael Nava, Sonia Sotomayor, Alfredo Véa, and Yxta Maya Murray—serve as role models, showing future generations of Latinxs that there can be a confluence of the creative with the practical in one's everyday life. do: Thank you for putting me in such extraordinary company, Fede. Every time I give a reading in an...