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The House of Order
The House of Order
The House of Order
Ebook147 pages2 hours

The House of Order

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

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The first collection of composite stories by John Paul Jaramillo, presents a stark vision of American childhood and family. Set in Southern Colorado and Northern New Mexico, Manito’s only access to his lost family’s story is his uncle, the unreliable Neto Ortiz. Manito sorts family truth from legend as broken as the steel industry and the rusting vehicles that line Spruce Street.

“The House of Order is an enticing read that shouldn’t be overlooked for those looking for a down to earth short fiction collection.” –Midwest Book Review

“Jaramillo is writing about working in Southern Colorado farm fields, driving and drinking beer and smoking pot; visiting family members in the state penitentiary; about tattooed pregnant girls, dirty kids in laundromats and their desperate mothers-and the pain-filled list goes on, back through several decades. What saves these stories is the grace in which they are written.” –Mary Jean Porter, Chieftain.com

“Each story in Jaramillo’s collection stands alone, but together they make a powerful combination, with vivid descriptions, realistic characters, and strong emotions that will make readers cry, laugh, cringe and hope.” –Latina Book Club

“If you like writing that is unpredictable and makes you think, this collection is for you. These short stories have characters with complex, sometimes depressing, but always fascinating lives.” –LatinoStories.com 2013 Top Ten “New” Latino Authors to Watch (and Read)

“Raw and highly emotional at times, Jaramillo’s stories give a realistic look in to the lives of his characters as he presents short vignettes that hint at a deeper family saga. His style is easy to read and his concise wording retains a surprising amount of detail. All in all, The House of Order is a compelling set of stories and should Jaramillo continue to present such fantastic storytelling, there is no doubt he will gain many new readers.” –San Francisco Book Review

“These stories find John Paul Jaramillo hitting his stride as an acute observer and chronicler of hard and valuable lives. The writing conveys great warmth and understanding. This is a career to watch.” –Tracy Daugherty, author of One Day the Wind Changed

“Besides the razor-sharp writing which brings even those characters whom we meet only briefly vividly and memorably to life, what compelled me was my affection and concern for the narrator, who sets out to record the stories of his elders, and through them, to understand the forces that have shaped and directed his own experience. The result is a collection of stories that holds together like a shattered vessel, whose fragments have been gathered and expertly glued. Manito himself, battered by drink and drugs and the abuses of combat, barely holds together sometimes — but even at his lowest and darkest, the impulse remains in him to comfort and assist. It’s this that saves him, and that sets this collection apart — and above, in my opinion — less forgiving depictions of people struggling to take control of their lives.” –Jennifer Cornell, author of Departures

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 16, 2014
ISBN9781311844194
The House of Order
Author

Anna Faktorovich

Anna Faktorovich is the Director and Founder of the Anaphora Literary Press. Faktorovich has over three years of full-time college English teaching experience. She has a Ph.D. in English Literature and Criticism and an M.A. in Comparative Literature. She published two books with McFarland: "Rebellion as Genre in the Novels of Scott, Dickens and Stevenson" (2013) and "Formulas of Popular Fiction: Elements of Fantasy, Science Fiction, Romance, Religious and Mystery Novels" (2014).

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Rating: 3.3333333166666663 out of 5 stars
3.5/5

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This is a very personal collection of short stories and none of them left me with a feeling of hope. It is a stark picture into one Latino family living in poverty amidst the concrete and weeds, the alcohol and abuse, and then of course there are the rabbits (ok I had to mention rabbits because I have a soft spot in my heart for bunnies). “Esta las historias de la familia” within the pages of John Paul Jaramillo's “The House Order” will leave you sad, despondent and wanting to rescue this grown child and his own family, from falling into the same footsteps his alcoholic father did.

    The collection begins with Manito and his Uncle Neto sitting out back, amongst the weeds and urban decay of a neighborhood behind the family room with the backdrop of a failing steel mill. The thread that binds these as more than just a collection but a well segued group of tales leading you through Manito's, the protagonist, own journey to discover the truth of their “historia”. Each title binds the symbolism within each story. After Uncle Neto finishes telling another Ortez family tale the title becomes relevant.

    It is hard to label this an actual collection of short stories, it is more like a condensed taste of reality within the 108 pages and a beautiful cover. It is not a quick read, a few hours, but I took my time mainly because the stories were so dense with meaning and realism. The Ortez's are a characterization of many “familias”in American today. This is not a story for Latino's and just Latino's, the machismo, the abuse, the abandoning of children and alcoholism is a problem with many impoverished in this country. In today's struggling economy the situations that crop up over and over within the Ortez “familia” are mirrored within the stories. There is a choice Manito must make, with where this leads him, to break free “de liberarse” of the apron strings that drag him out the door? Or to let himself go down the path with her. What will it be?

    Go grab your copy today, the book is beautiful, dark and though I will not be reading it again, I will be sharing it with many of my friends who can emotionally handle reading this.I was left depressed and brooding.

    Who would I recommend it too? People that love well crafted, deep literary fiction. Who like art in their words when presented with a stark reality and sociologists! Yep, this would be a GREAT book to include in a sociological study. I already am planning on handing it over to my friend up at the university who is doing a study on the third generation Mexican Americans and the Machismo factor (or something to that effect).

    My rating scale is as such:

    5 stars for the cover design: The cover made no sense to me at first, then I got it. This is raw, exposed and rough. It is not pretty, painted and standing on a corner with a pill box hat. Deal with it move on and screw you I like my longs black. The cover is amazing.

    4 Stars for the writing: Exquisite. There are a few problems I found in places where the flow was just to in erupted with the use of Spanish everywhere. Not just when characters are speaking but continually used in the monologue with Manito. I used it in the review to prove a point, it kind of derailed me a bit.

    3 stars for character development: There were a lot to deal with. I think there could have been a bit tightening up of some of the development and less focus on others. It was almost like a rabbit hutch. To many, and I did re-read a bit. This could have been because I was derailed by the language usage.

    3 stars for the “like” scale. I like it. I did not really like it and I did not love it. I have had enough despair and seen enough ugliness and depravity in my life I can handle crying in a book, but this book had me very sad and depressed. I was already struggling through some things while I read it but I doubt even if I was so happy I was about to burst would I give it higher than three on the Kriss LIKE scale! But you may definitely love it, I know many did.

    In all it has a rating of 3.75 stars(so 4 here on Goodreads)
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    I do have to say the cover was a little scary, but the stories inside are intriguing.

    Although I don’t read many short story anthologies – this one was interesting. The perspective was very different from my own background, so made the stories different to me.

    Laundromat Story - I don’t think I’ve spent a lot of time at Laundromats (I remember my mom washing our curtains one time at the Laundromat). The people there were very interesting and the stories they told were part of what was intertwined.

    Family Album - Tell the story of some of the family and some of the circumstances of growing up. The family dynamics are those of a large family. It’s wonderful how the family can support each other and tell the history of their siblings. The younger generation is intrigued by what was done and how they came to the US.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The House of Order is a collection of stories about the dysfunctional family of Relles “Manito” Ortiz told by different members of the family, grandparents, uncles and aunts. The way this story was written was at first hard for me to grasp but after a few stories I was engrossed in the story of this very poor family. From when the characters were little to where they are flawed adults the stories bounce back and forth . There is lots of rough language and circumstances but this all contributes to the life that these people live. Harsh, sometimes sad but often funny. I especially loved the Jefe and Jefita,grandparents, that made me laugh more than once although I was not too crazy about how some of the men treated the women but that is the way it was.. unfortunately. A very interesting collection of stories for sure. If you love a raw and gritty family story then this is for you...I received an e-copy of this book for review and was not monetarily compensated for my review.

Book preview

The House of Order - Anna Faktorovich

The House of Order

John Paul Jaramillo

Published by Anaphora Literary Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 John Paul Jaramillo

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

1. Rabbit Story

2. Family Album

3. Unreliable Crop

4. Cabrón

5. Driven to the Fields

6. Return to Cacaville

7. Little Blue Box

8. Grown-Ass Men

9. Jefita’s Dress

10. Penance

11. Juanita’s Boy

12. Descansos

13. A Rock in the Beans

14. Laundromat Story

15. The House of Order

16. Farmhouse in the Lanes

Connect with Anaphora

Reviews Welcomed

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

For my D. For my family.

Farmhouse in the Lanes has appeared online at the Acentos Review; Little Blue Box online at Antique Children Arts Journal; Driven to the Fields has appeared in the Antique Children Arts Quarterly; Rabbit Story in the Copper Nickel Review; Laundromat Story online at Crash Literary Journal; Penance online at Verdad Magazine; Descansos has appeared in Paraphilia Magazine and Grown-Ass Men in Sleet Magazine.

Cover Artwork: Breathe Out by Felicia Olin.

1. Rabbit Story

You can’t tell a man’s story unless you are for sure about the facts, Manito. In the narrow length of the backyard my Tio Neto puts out his cigarette with the tips of his fingers and throws the vacha. Since the Abuelito topped the tree there is not much shade so Neto slaps at the pocket on his chest for sunglasses. I was eight, he tells me. No, nine. Hell if I know. He licks at the burns to his fingers.

Neto has just come to the Abuelita’s from his work laying tar on the old highway, the first job he’s held in months. His work shirt hangs open out over his jeans, bare chest exposed.

I’m tired of telling you these stories, he says.

He goes over to the truckito and pulls a lawn chair from the bed. Neto’s thick, middle-aged body slams down and he scrapes his cap from a sweaty head and brow. I imagine Neto sits and talks the way his Jefe sat and sold similar stories.

I don’t have time to tell such things, he says. He reminds me he is not my father; he reminds me my father is dead. "I was just a little moco. The story goes I was out here at two a.m. sleepwalking."

Or maybe pretending and then his father caught him. Maybe Neto happened on the old man sobbing. Even now, decades later, this part I’m not too sure about. What is clear is that he expected to find one of his Jefe’s girlfriends.

There was the young Martinez girl with the lisp and the flat ass. Or the older lady married to Tio Freddie who lived on the east side and carried a clip loaded .45 pistol in her Buick. Maybe the teacher from Goat Hill who lived with her parents. Neto knew of them all.

I busted him with a girl all kinds of times. He was always with some fine young thing from the neighborhood, Neto says. You can’t blame him too much, you know.

The old man hustled his girlfriends where he kept his tools and where he kept his truckito, out near the alley. I know this because Neto knows this.

"I saw everything. The old man right there in the garage throwing palo. It was something for a boy."

I ask, And he never saw you before that night, Neto?

No, Manito. Never once caught on.

At one time it was all Neto thought of. Probably became the reason to walk and listen.

The old man needed his sex. I ain’t no pervert but I needed to see, you know, Neto says. For myself.

That particular night, the night Neto was caught, the fine young thing ended up dead-meat and gone and so the man was deserted.

He always drank when he was deserted, Neto explains.

He gets away from the story to remind me how around Huérfano County deserted means losing a ride out to the lanes for work in the onion fields. Quitting school to work and contribute to the mortgage. Ignitions that won’t fire and friends who won’t come around. Cousins dropped off from New Mexico to share beds and food. Half fixed televisions for Saturday morning cartoons and radios smashed before the World Series. Couches and chairs dropped onto back porches gone un-mended and machine parts and tools sacrificed to the rust of early winters. Here it means CF&I Steel picking up and closing offices, union negotiation talks breaking down. Husbands who aren’t faithful. Fathers dying. Lies and stories half-told and then forgotten unless pressed and pushed.

‘Complications of childbirth’ is exactly what I read, Manito, Neto continues. That part is God’s truth and factual. You can show the people if you want.

Years later, sitting in the public library, I read it too on page one of the Pueblo Chieftain from July 18th 1963:

Woman Dies During Childbirth, Family Alleges Negligence by Doc

That night the old man was crying and disoriented. Made Neto beg and promise, squeal with pain.

"I mean my Jefe was a cabrón when he drank, Neto explains. We all are. You know."

After he caught the boy, my Abuelito made the young Neto work picking up leaves. It was late but the Abuelito made Neto police call the area. That’s what the old man named it. From sad Army days, I imagine.

He made him clean up the chicken and rabbit cages the family kept. The whole neighborhood raised them. It was all about him being real flojo and saving dollar bills.

It was all different back then. Not like today with kids all spoiled and shit. You wouldn’t survive a day back in the old neighborhood, Neto says.

So there was little Neto, police calling. The Abuelito watching him and becoming more and more drunk on his beer or his rum and RC Cola. Or maybe he was drinking his wine. Abuelita called him a wino later and so I imagine the Viejo from those old photos standing in his bare feet and drinking from a bottle.

Don’t be so stupid, Manito, and listen to the story, Neto says. You always getting in the way of the story with those little things.

I ask, Is the story the girl?

No, Manito. The story is me and them rabbits.

Abuelito found his rabbits missing and became enraged. Any other night the old man wouldn’t have even noticed. He would have walked right past those cages and fucked his little chingita in the garage and afterwards pissed on the side of the house.

But his woman had died in a bed at St Mary Corwin giving birth to a daughter, to Neto’s sister. To be precise, another young Martinez girl, but he keeps that from the family.

That’s the way it works, Manito. That’s what it is to be a man. You’ll find out, Neto says. Some things you got to keep inside. But like I say the story isn’t about the girl.

I imagine the Abuelito was repeating over and over, "You want to go under the house, Neto?" In his white t-shirt and this little cap that made him look like Marlon Brando’s character in The Wild One, he asked the boy again and again to get under the house.

"No, Jefe, little Neto said. I’m sleeping."

"What the hell do you mean you’re sleeping, Neto?" he said. "Wake your ass up. Get in the Goddamn crawl space and get those Goddamn rabbits." Abuelito had little Neto’s neck in one hand and his bottle in the other. "I’m not asking you, Neto, he said. I’m fucking telling you."

"I don’t want to, Jefe."

"Goddamn it, boy. I’m telling you to do it. Do you want to be a man, Neto? Do you?"

Neto didn’t want to be a man but he didn’t want to wake the Jefita, either, and so little Neto fell to his knees and entered the crawl space. The entrance was only a 16" wide black hole. And somehow he found strength and fire from deep inside.

"Hurry you ass up, Neto," the old man said through stained teeth and dirty moustache. "I ain’t got all night."

Neto had never seen such darkness, a thousand years of ghosts for a boy. And in that moment Neto became a horrible thought. He never wanted to scream so loudly. His legs trembled and his pajama top was soaked through and dripping.

I ask, Were you scared, Neto?

"The Jefita, Manito. Think of your Grandmother. She was sleeping. My poor, poor mother."

So Neto crawled and struggled to the darkest corner of his mind past black widows and ratones. The fear and yellow bile built in his mouth and in the corners of his lips.

"Big ratones, Manito, Neto says. You’ve never seen such in your life."

"Goddamn it, Neto," the Abuelito said. Don’t let those ratones get to them rabbits. Them rabbits are sold.

I ask, So what did you do, Neto?

I grabbed and held them in my hands, Manito, Neto says. I was bit and everything.

Then what?

And then there was nothing. What do you want to hear, Manito?

How could a boy do that?

"I did it for the Jefita. My poor mother. I had to protect her. So don’t ask me no more, Manito. Let me sit in peace."

I ask, What did my father think of all this?

Well, I say Goddamn. Now I know you’re growing, Manito. Now I know you’re nearly what a man should be. A man has got to know about his family.

Then he ignores me. Escapes my questions for cartons of cigarettes stored in the Abuelita’s Frigidaire and endless cans of RC Cola mixed with rum. Neto’s father dead for years now and the family story going the boy killed rats with bare hands, how he mangled and smashed at whatever he could touch.

And later I’ll go to sleep with it all deep inside of me. Down in the basement the old man dug out. The same one that took three loads of earth moved to create. That took Tio Freddie’s truckito and cases and cases of beer.

That part, Neto swears, is God’s truth and factual. So you better get that down in the story. And I promise him I will.

2. Family Album

My Uncle Neto is so far from himself in those photos. The old folks say the same, "Your Tio was something in them days, Manito."

His wide, round face so much fresher in those pictures, dark hair close

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