How I Wrote the Book
Autobiography of Cotton
By Cristina Rivera Garza
Graywolf Press, 288 pp., $17
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At a time when U.S. immigration policies have reentered the national conversation and the visibility of Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers has prompted protests around the country, a new novel by Pulitzer-Prize winning author Cristina Rivera Garza undertakes a groundbreaking investigation that uncovers a forgotten history of the U.S.-Mexico border.
“Autobiography of Cotton” is the story of a consequential labor strike carried out in the early mid-20th century in the borderlands of northern Mexico. Garza’s genre-bending work ultimately pays homage to the too-often invisible laborers who cultivate the land and build the cities on both sides of the border.
“My hope is that readers might see how artificial borders are, how tangential they are in regard to greater, larger projects, both at the very personal level, but also at the institutional and the state level,” Garza said in a recent Zoom interview from Paris. “And how organic migration is to our lives. Movement in search of better conditions — that is the basis of what we do as humans.”
Garza’s own family is one that has been crossing back and forth across the border for generations, following opportunities for work and holding onto the hope of better living conditions for their children. Garza said she began feeling the urgency of writing the book about a decade ago, in response to the “increasingly vicious” public discussion about migration. Writing “Autobiography of Cotton” began with her desire to uncover the truth about her paternal grandparents, whose story she had only gathered bits and pieces of over the years.
“In these very dire and sorrowful circumstances that we’re going through, it is very important to insist that migration is palpitating at the center of the history and the present of the United States,” Garza said. “And that there is a connection between labor and love and space and belonging as one of the greatest narratives of the United States.”
The reader accompanies Garza through her explorations of her ancestral lands as she unlocks key pieces of archival research on the 1934 workers’ strike in which her grandparents were involved. “There is a very clear historical connection between the earlier settlement of these poor people brought by cotton, both from the United States and Central Mexico, and the fracking that has been taking place there in more recent years, all in all keeping the so-called ‘War on Drugs’ very much alive in this area,” Garza said.
The strike took place in a now-forgotten farming village, at which Garza’s archival research revealed through telegraph conversations that activist-turned-influential Mexican novelist José Revueltas had in fact been present. Revueltas would later go on to write about his experiences of living and working with the laborers in his celebrated 1943 novel, “Human Mourning” (“El luto humano”). However, other than Revueltas’ fictional account, the story of the laborers, their movement’s successes and the astonishing cultivation of the desert lands had been lost to history — until now.
“There is meaning in the everyday life of these people that I wanted to get close to,” Garza said. “In learning to look at each other as closely as we can and approach each other in our humanness, there exists the possibility that doing so may carry us through hatred.”
Garza spoke to The Times about her writing practice, what she’s reading and more.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
What writing routine or rituals did you have when working on “Autobiography of Cotton”?
I know when I’m writing nonfiction, because my desk is full of books and documents and everything on earth. When I’m writing fiction, on the other hand, I use less space. But I always write in the morning when my energy is at its highest, and I like to write when I wake up so I can get the dream energy. That liminal space for me is just perfect for writing.
Are there any other items that you kept on your desk or close at hand as you wrote this book?
What I always keep is a green tea. And if I have good matcha, I’ll go for that too.
Do you write to music or silence?
Silence, usually. I can concentrate better on the rhythm of language, both what I’m reading in documents and my own. I usually need silence for that.
How long did you work on this book?
For many years, at least five, but I was not only working on this project, I have to be honest. I’m usually working on two or more projects. I teach, so that means that most of my teaching year, I’m doing something else. When I say I’m working the whole year it is mostly the summer, when I was able to actually drive through all these areas that I’m describing in the book, and concentrate on the writing. And I usually write no more than between three to four hours per day, because otherwise I get too tired, and I’ve realized that whatever I write after four hours, I’m going to end up deleting. And then I have to do something physical. I have to either walk or hike, or swim, or do something that takes me out of my own head and back into my body.
Any books you’re enjoying reading currently, or looking forward to reading?
I’m traveling, and I travel light, so I didn’t bring many books with me, but I am reading “Malacría,” the first novel by Mexican poet Elisa Díaz Castelo, and I’m liking it. And then “Landscape With Landscape” by Australian author Gerald Murnane. Two books that I’m reading at the same time.
Toledo is a New Mexico-born, Los Angeles-based writer. She’s currently at work on a novel set in the American Southwest about sisterhood and decolonizing identity through spirituality, ecology and art-making.