Medina is best when dealing with erotic loss, and has a keen eye for the ebb and flow of desire. -Publishers Weekly
Pablo Medina was born in Cuba and moved to New York City at the age of 12. He was educated by the Jesuits and thought about entering the order but then he discovered girls, who took him out of the straight and narrow and showed him the intricate steps of the dance of romance. He started writing poetry as a way of impressing members of the opposite gender and has revolved around the twin stars of literature and sex ever since. He has published 13 books of poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and translation and is determined to publish his next book as soon as he can in order to get away from that nasty number. García Márquez has said that if you are not religious, you better be superstitious, or something to that effect. His most recent books include the poetry collection The Man Who Wrote on Water and Cubop City Blues. He doesn’t understand why more people don’t read poetry (especially aloud). They miss out on a great and salutary practice. He loves the laughter of old people and the eyes of infants. He loves movies and the obscure questions of existence. How many angels can fit on the head of a penis? How many musical scales does a coelacanth have? Is it true that God eats thirty-three-and-a-half lady fingers in one sitting?
Review of Cubop City Blues, Pablo Medina’s latest novel:
In this haunting love letter to New York, poet and novelist Medina (The Cigar Roller) crafts a hybrid novel/story collection that vivifies the cityscape over many decades with tales of love, death, and exile. The central figure is a nearly blind young Cuban man living in Manhattan with his dying parents, Cuban exiles. To comfort them, he becomes “The Storyteller” of prose poems about where they left and where they live: there’s the recurring character of Angel, a writer and foot fetishist, who seeks the man who stabbed him. There’s Cornelia, the Storyteller’s Hungarian housekeeper, who escaped the violence of postwar Europe. And other singular tales: a professor falls in love with a younger male colleague; a Cuban blackjack dealer is lured to Las Vegas; a musician takes part in the dawn of Afro-Cuban jazz. The stories are rich and accomplished… there is beauty, suffused with a muted melancholy, in Medina’s attempt to capture the rhythms of life. -Publishers Weekly
Look for Cubop City Blues in your local bookstore!