Michael Hogan reviews the book: “According to Soledad

By Katie Goodridge Ingram

Review by Michael Hogan

There are two kinds of stories from childhood: those that we are in bondage to, and

those that liberate us. This memoir is a combination of both. The author, calling herself “Soledad” in the book, is a young girl born in Mexico to expatriate parents. Her father is a rare-book dealer who has come to Mexico from the US in search of a valuable Aztec codex, a journal from an earlier Spanish missionary, or other unique volumes. Her mother, also an expat, is a designer, and becomes a hostess for famous artists and writers as well as a raconteur in her own right.

Together they create a world in which Soledad is born. They live in Coyoacán, a lush suburb of Mexico City, home to artists, poets, and historians, and even the Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky. Her parents are often dinner hosts to both Frieda Kahlo and Diego Rivera. Soledad gets to watch José Clemente Orozco work up on a scaffold painting one of his famous murals. She “helps” Anita Brenner write her breathtaking history of the Mexican Revolution, The Wind That Swept Mexico. But that is not the charm of the book; it lies elsewhere.

Like The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros, the narrator of this memoir is very young. So, the book is rich with observations from the perspective of a child, rich in surprising and delightful imagery from the sparkle of the cobblestones after the rain in the streets of Coyoacán to the frightening hiss of the night birds in the trees; from the patting of tortillas on the wood stove to the neon fluorescence of the bougainvillea in February. All say “This is Mexico” in a way that is fresh and new. It is paradise but, much like the biblical one, there is a dark angel hovering nearby.

The father, who is often away on buying trips, has a weakness of the flesh. He finds himself tempted to liaisons with women of the night, some of whom make off with his profits, and one who actually steals a family heirloom. When his extramarital adventures become too much for her, the mother packs her bags and takes Soledad and her two brothers, Primo and Amado, away to Ajijic, a village on the shore of Lake Chapala, the largest freshwater lake in Mexico and home to colorful artists and writers. While this is liberating for the mother, who blossoms there becoming a weaver as well as designing original clothing which she sells in a shop and along the way picking up a second husband, it is less so for Soledad. She misses the father whose memory she clings to. She hates the stepfather (whom she calls “my mother’s husband”) who is something of a misogynist and controlling.

She writes weekly letters to her father in Mexico City full of wonder and lush descriptions of her new home. She writes in the plaza on the round cement bench under the purple jacaranda tree and the yellow primavera. She watches the birds drink out of the fountain and discovers her voice and the power of language. She rides a horse to the edge of the lake and observes “the long-nosed fishing boats with the oarlock made out of the elbow of a branch.” She becomes one of the voices of Ajijic, an artist who will leave her own legacy behind.

Her father dies in a terrible fire that gutted a nightclub in Mexico City. She never got to tell him goodbye. Yet, in this memoir she captures his life and times which still hold her captive to his love, while at the same time using her narrative gift to liberate her own soul and that of the reader.

Michael Hogan is the author of twentysix books, including Mexican Mornings, The Irish Soldiers of Mexico, and Abraham Lincoln and Mexico. He lives in Guadalajara with the artist Lucinda Mayo and their Dutch Shepherd, Lola.

Title: According to Soledad: Memories of a Mexican childhood.

Author: Katie Goodridge Ingram

Publisher: Sombrero Books, BC, Canada

Published date: 2020

Availability: Kindle and print version via Amazon - https://www.amazon. com/dp/1777038103

Copies are available in Ajijic at La Nueva Posada and Mí Mexico (the childhood home of the author)

Michael Hogan

Candace Ayers Luciano

Well-known Lakeside resident Candace Luciano passed away on January 1st, in the loving company of her husband, Peter, and several close friends, following a courageous battle with cancer. A vibrant and generous member of this community since 2011, Candace was kind to all and friends with many; she will be sorely missed.

Born on September 5, 1948, in Greenville, South Carolina, Candace was raised and educated there, later attending Lander College/ University of South Carolina, where she completed her bachelor’s degree. After teaching elementary school, she returned to the University of South Carolina where she earned a master’s in Education in 1986. Later, Candace changed careers, after attending Florida State University, where she earned a master’s in Social Work. Starting in Northern Florida as a social worker, she subsequently moved into management and executive positions in Columbia Health System in South Carolina and North Broward Hospital District in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

In 1990, Candace married Peter Luciano and they moved to Apple Hill Farm in Newton, New Hampshire, where she entered what she called her “Martha Stewart phase of life,” managing a 1720 colonial home and farm including gardening, canning, cooking, and raising animals. She was admitted to the Grange Society; served on the boards of director for the historical society and Newton Library, and was a candidate for state representative, gaining notoriety by losing that election by one vote.

In 1996, Candace decided to pursue a career in the law and was admitted to the Massachusetts School of Law from which she graduated magna cum laude as number one in her class. She was sworn in to the Massachusetts bar in the historic Faneuil Hall in Boston. After spending a short in private practice, she was selected to be law clerk for the justices of the Superior Court of New Hampshire. Following that, she was invited to join the faculty of the University of Massachusetts Medical School where she taught ethics and managed a program to place health care professionals and physicians in underserved areas of the commonwealth.

Later, Candace was recruited to be the executive director of the Upstate Area Health Center in Greenville, South Carolina, enabling her to be near her parents who were in failing health.

In 2011, Candace and Peter retired to Ajijic, Mexico. Here she discovered a new passion—acting. Never having acted before, Candace took acting lessons at Lakeside Little Theatre, and over the ensuing years found herself cast in numerous plays. Acting afforded her the opportunity to use her significant communication skills and ability to memorize large amounts of material. Of all the plays, one of her favorite leading roles was a love story, The Last Romance. The pinnacle of Candace’s acting accomplishments, however, was her performance in the play “MMXX” about the last day of Marilyn Monroe’s life. This one-woman, two-act, 54-page play was a tour de force in which Candace convincingly became Marilyn, showing the months of voice and mannerism study she did in preparation for the role.

Candace was to have performed the lead in last season’s play, The Actress, when COVID-19 hit and LLT closed one week prior to opening night.

Candace is survived by her husband, Peter Luciano, her daughter Laura Campbell, beloved son-inlaw Jay Campbell, and their two sons Ryan and Will; son P. J. Luciano, his wife Julia, and their children Thomas and Mia; and her sister Patricia Ayers.

A memorial is being planned and will be announced at a future date.

By Randy Warren

In Ajijic sits the Sad Casino. Oh, that is not its real name, but that is what I call it because the casino’s actual name sounds too close to a sex act.

And it might as well be called the Sad Casino because nobody is smiling, except the plastic leprechaun standing outside the entrance. With his green outfit, he assures luck to all who enter. But once inside, there is no feeling of luck.

Upon entry, you know you are in the Sad Casino. No music. No jackpots clanking in a joyous sound of rain. Instead of boisterous sounds from players and machines, there is only silence. The slot machines make no sounds; they trade in paper rather than coins. The place is just . . . quiet.

You would expect to hear the shout of a winner now and then, but apparently the leprechaun works for management.

Even the few blackjack tables are quiet. Gringo players and Mexican croupiers do not speak each other’s language, so there is not much to talk about.

I think the only people in the world who would truly be happy here are librarians: So many people gathered together in one big room and everybody maintaining silence. So that gave me an idea I want to send back to the Old Country: America should turn its libraries into casinos!

Slot machines up and down every aisle. Roulette alongside Rousseau. Blackjack at the librarians’ desks. They can deal cards while checking out books. Shout out when you win and you forfeit the payout. Shhhh!

Let’s be realistic: Post-pandemic budgets are going to get slashed. Gambling would be a great way to preserve funding while also getting more people into libraries. Free admission but you need a library card to get in.

Add a section for books about how to beat the games. That at least gets the newbies started with reading. After all, casinos are much like literature: You arrive with Great Expectations and leave when it’s Gone With The Wind.

Maybe librarians can confer with Bally to create custom library slot machines replacing those noisy Wheel of Fortune units. Instead of chasing three cherries, you need three scarlet letters. Try to hit the Harry Jackpotter. We simply have to accept that Betty Friedan would not approve of “Feminine Mystique” slot machines or their artwork.

Like other casinos, sometimes they issue credit and sometimes people don’t pay. So they will need a private collection force to round up the payments. To offset library budget cuts, this same workforce could double to retrieve those past due book returns.

“Bobby, there is a man named Salvatore at the front door. He is asking about ‘Catcher in the Rye’ and something called the vig.”

There may be some pushback about libraries having cocktail lounges, but if you look around the library, cocktails probably played a big role in creating a good number of the novels. Now, I concede that some librarians may not care for their new outfits. On the other hand, the tips will be amazing.

I think this is a great idea! The one problem that remains to be solved is the minimum age to enter the joint . . . I mean the library.

Normally, you have to be 18 to enter a gambling hall. But students need to be able to use the library too. This conflict must be resolved and I think I have the answer.

Minors can enter the casinobrary only if they have a library card in their name, the obtaining of which now requires at least a B average at school. So suddenly, having a library card is cool. Because only the cool kids can get inside the casino, only kids with high grades will be cool.

Yes, it may result in a few fake library cards, or minors congregating outside the entrance asking strangers if they could get them some Victor Hugo.

But the only way to be sure to have access is to get those higher grades. An unintended consequence of this policy might be to make students place value on being smart. When they grow up, that could fully reverse decades of American policies.

Will this work? You can bet on it!