Salomón and Me

Every writer "creates" his own precursors. His work modifies our conception of the past, as it will modify the future.
Jorge Luis Borges


Sometimes, when I’m in an unguarded, mystical mood, I can make myself believe—almost—that I’m the reincarnation of Salomón de la Selva, a Nicaraguan writer and poet. But, then, to be the rebirth of De la Selva would be impossible because I was four years old when he passed away.

The feeling that I’m connected to Salomón de la Selva dates back to when I was nine years old. My family and I were visiting Nicaragua—two years before we moved there—and I was riding in the back seat of a car, traveling from Granada to Managua. On the radio a program detailed the life of this Nicaraguan poet, novelist, and essayist. (In Nicaragua—the land of Rubén Darío—where poets are revered, Salomón is a stalwart member of that nation’s literary pantheon.)

That night, I had an unusual dream. In it, when my parents and I arrived in Managua, as soon as we stepped out of the car, Salomón de la Selva was there to greet us. A distinguished looking man, he introduced himself, wished us well, turned around, and walked away. That was it, but the dream remains vivid to this day.

In subsequent years, during my Nicaraguan adolescence, I frequently heard De la Selva being discussed in adult conversations and in the media—always with reverence and referred to as one of Nicaragua’s most notable intellects. Oddly, even though I’d never read a single poem of his—his work at the time was difficult to obtain—the idea of Salomón de la Selva somehow captivated me, and in spite of knowing very little about his legacy, I held him in high esteem and felt that, somehow, because of that dream, we were connected.

Many years later, while a doctoral student at the University of Arizona, I was looking into Nicaragua’s literary history when a footnote caught my attention. It mentioned that De la Selva’s earliest work was a collection of poetry—written in English—that was published in New York City, in 1918, by the John Lane Company: Tropical Town and Other Poems.

I was stunned to learn that De la Selva’s first known work was in English. For all the talk about him in Nicaragua, not once did I hear anyone mention that he spoke English, let alone wrote in that language.

I made a mental note of the existence of the book, but being in the middle of the tortuous work of completing the doctorate, I never got around to borrowing a copy of this now intriguing tome.

Several years later, with the doctorate now done and while teaching at Appalachian State University, in North Carolina, I received a flyer in the mail calling for grant proposals for a project called Recovering the U.S. Hispanic Literary Heritage. Through the interlibrary loan department I requested a copy of Tropical Town to see if De la Selva’s first work fit the parameters of the recovery’s plan. (Getting a hold of Tropical Town was a challenge for the librarians at Appalachian State, for only a handful copies survived.)

As I read De la Selva’s work for the first time my hands started to tremble; I realized almost at once that I was holding the first collection of English-language poetry written by someone of Latin American heritage to be published in the United States. What’s more, at that moment, I was certain that I was the only person on the planet to view Tropical Town and Other Poems from this perspective.

I crafted a proposal, which was funded, and after examining De la Selva’s life and poetry for close to a year I wrote a study that highlights the influence of Rubén Darío and Edna St. Vincent Millay, De la Selva’s close friend, on the Nicaraguan’s English language poetry.

After submitting my findings, Arte Público Press decided to publish, eighty years after the original appeared in print, a second edition of Tropical Town and Other Poems—and my study serves as the introduction to this edition.

(As an aside: Two poems from Tropical Town are included in The New Anthology Of American Poetry: Modernisms: 1900-1950. This means that Salomón de la Selva is also being recognized as an “American” poet.)

And, now, although I’m positive that I’m not Salomón de la Selva’s reincarnation, I know that my name will be linked to his, if only for a few years, thanks to my suggestion that this Nicaraguan is, indeed, a forerunner of Latina and Latino writers in the United States today.