We’re sad here at the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto to announce the death of poet and novelist Victor Martinez. His bio on the Harper Collins website reads: Victor Martinez was born and raised in Fresno, California, the fourth in a family of twelve children. He attended California State University at Fresno and Stanford University, and has worked as a field laborer, welder, truck driver, firefighter, teacher, and office clerk. His poems, short stories, and essays have appeared in journals and anthologies. Mr. Martinez was awarded the 1996 National Book Award for Young People’s Literature for Parrot in the Oven, his first novel.
The Grotto commemorated Victor at lunch today with flowers and whiskey and stories and tears, but I wasn’t able to attend. Victor was both an amazing writer and someone with a huge heart. Here is an excerpt from Parrot in the Oven that someone at the Grotto shared with us today:
“Grandma Rosa died a few months later; and after the burial we gathered at her house. The sun was bright as an egg yoke leaking an orange finger across a porcelain plate, and there was a smell of bruised plums and burning grapevines drifting through the trees.
My Aunt Letty cried so loud my uncle Joe scolded her by twirling his finger: “Now, now Leticia,” he said to her, “there’s nothing you can do for her now.” With a shredded throat, Letty told him to shut up.
Although moist around the cheeks, Mom didn’t cry. She sat on the living room couch next to the shuffling cooler. She didn’t wear black because she had no black dress, and my dad could only scrounge up seven dollars and twenty-eight cents. Mom claimed this was as good could be expected, considering the funeral costs, but not half enough for a respectable black dress. She used the money instead to buy Mexican sweet bread, and make bunuelos, fried tortillas sprinkled with cinnamon, and sweet potatoes that bled a dark syrup.”
I can only dream of ever writing that well. RIP Victor Martinez. We will really miss you.
Thanks Maghan,
Victor and I were as close as brothers – since '77. He always spoke of the Grotto. Thanks for toasting to Victor!
Love
Jfelipe Herrera
Thank you, Grotto writers, for the very kind and inspirational words about my brother Victor. He valued all of your friendships, he hung on to your voices and words, and he spoke of each of you highly.
I had the incredible honor of accompanying him to the Grotto one afternoon after learning of his cancer. The book addled rooms in the Grotto offices breathed expression and love, pain and redemption, and the catalytic voices of friends. Victor thrived in this environment, and was very sad to leave.
I am deeply saddened by his ascension (that is the only way this simple mind can view this – I have to think that there is now a better place for his tired soul – a place where he sheds his embattled body, and flies among the greater nebula of thoughts, the word clouds which orbited his eyes at all times).
But, I am encouraged to know that his legacy is immortalized in his writings. Through his dedication to his work, the world will know that my brother was passionate, real, loving, and strong. I will always know him as "Tinco", my big brother who taught me more about the world, and about life, and about love than most any other entity.
Thanks again,
Abel Martinez
Juan – We're all so sad to lose Victor. He was such a gentle soul and such an amazing writer.
Abel – Victor was fortunate to have so many caring siblings! We plan to post a tribute to him on the Grotto website, and some writers have mentioned hopes of getting his unpublished works into print as well. "Passionate, real, loving, and strong" is the perfect description of Victor. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with us.
To my friend Victor. We went back 30 years. May God bless a good man.
Dear friends, Thank you so much for celebrating the life of my good friend Victor Martinez. Besides being a good writer he was above all a good husband, brother, son, and spiritual man. He is already missed. I hope to see his unpublished work in print.
Thanks, Jorge Argueta
Blessings to such a gifted writer and gentle soul.
Helena
I'm so sorry for the loss… I hate to admit I've never heard of him, but this line makes me think that's quite the sorrow for me: "The sun was bright as an egg yoke leaking an orange finger across a porcelain plate." Love it.
Thank you everyone for your tributes to Victor.
Kristan, Parrot in the Oven is a great book, and it's never too late to read it. And those were my thoughts exactly: what an amazing line that is. I can only dream of ever writing that well.
There will be a memorial service for victor on february 26 at 3:00 pm at Duggans memorial service, 3434 17th street, San Francisco. All of those who loved Vic are invited.
Thanks for letting us know, Robert. I'll be there.
We are sending love and light to Victor, who shared his incredible talent, warmth, energy and spirit with us here in Mesilla, New Mexico when he was a featured festival author for our book festival, The Dreams of Children. It was my pleasure to know this loving, kind and deeply centered storyteller who brought hope and joy to so many. We love you, Victor!
Denise Chávez
Wow! PARROT IN THE OVEN…a book I shared with college and high school students. Life in the raw…thrilling, poetic, and ala, Victor Martinez, absolutely riveting in it's simplicity and sincerity. RIP dear friend!
Stella Pope Duarte
Victor was the fiercest, best poet of our generation. His blunt, precise eloquence and beauty cut through time. It is a lesser world now without him. This poem is from his "Caring for A House" collection:
EVICTED FROM THE PLANET
When the landlord with the scratch of his key
changed the rivulet from which small spurts of money
trickled, I gave up my studies of insects and migratory
birds and turned instead
to the aimless wander of a cockroach
and boredom squeezing a yawning tear
from the kitchen faucet.
You may be surprised, you may say I lie, or that I didn’t
stiffen my fists enough, but as I saw my prints
vanish into a washcloth, saw a vacuum
erase along with my fingernails whatever sweat
glued this room together, whatever worry over back rent
I paced into the carpet, I began slowly
to inhale wisdom
as though all the lies, all the ornaments and tinsel
that decorate our hope and tickle our Christmas trees to
laughter were slothing down my shoulders
and disappearing between the grains of asphalt.
Every atom a lung needs to set its pace towards the stars
became mine. I discovered rains drilling the streets
with acids of bluish ink. I beheld the leaden weight of dreams
people carry like nightshirts to their beds
and felt as my heels lifted
and the globe beneath me spun away
the grieving upsurge of their sobs and misery
backing up all the way to the wingblades of their shoulders.
Hail neons! You ulcers on parade; you little gods of money
bobbing in ether. The pores of the buildings breath
with business, but I circulate nowhere. No breaths
of color cling and smell my clothes; no signs or footsteps
utter the scent of where I’ve been
or what I’ve done.
Upwards I rise, above the great scaffolds of the city
Triumphant, threading off on stars,
The whole of my life speeding
Through the clouds of a nebula.
Saddened by this loss to the literary world and to the Martinez family. I was very moved by Victor's work.
Orlando – Thank you so much for sharing that poem with us! I haven't had the privilege to read much of Victor's poetry, and this one is wonderful.
Denise, Stella, and Kevin – Thank you all for your kind words. I hope those of you who live in San Francisco will make it to his memorial service: February 26 at 3:00 p.m. at Duggans Memorial Service, 3434 17th street, San Francisco.
I can't believe Victor is gone. I got to know him ages ago when he was my student. He was a poet & a man you had to love, for his intelligence, his generosity, his beauty, his presence.
The day of the night he got the National Book Award I went to hear him read in Manhattan. He saw me in the audience & waved. When the three writers were finished, Victor came up & embraced me. I can't believe you came all the way from Fresno to hear me. I had to confess I'd only come from the Village. He was such a prince among men & women. He will be missed.
Phil Levine
The dolores park mafia of tennis players lost one of its founding members and saturday and sunday mornings will never be the same. There is nobody who knew the rules better or played with the mental game better. There willnever be as much color to our matches or on the bench as wait to play. We all miss you and love you, vic.
Phil,
Victor always spoke so highly of you. Through the years, you and your inspiration to Victor has woven into the fabric of stories which surround my family. I think the poet in Victor was very present, but needed the right encouragement to come out. Your class gave him that many, many years ago.
The Martinez family hopes to see you at Victor's Memorial.
Sincerely,
Abel Martinez
I will miss my cousin, Tinco, as we knew him growing up in West Fresno. One could always count on him entering a room with a huge smile on his face, ready to give you a hug. I last saw him in November and he smiled and whispered my name. At dinner he quietly ate his meal, i kow enjoying the company. Growing up in the West Fresno Projects you had to be tough to survive and Victor was one you did not want to tackle. He did not look for trouble but he was ready to protect his brothers, sisters or cousins. I was so proud to say he was my cousin when he won the National Book Award for Parrot in The Oven. From picking grapes in the fields of Fresno County to a national award, Victor was truly a great writer. "I will miss you Tinco". My heart and love goes out to my Tia Olivia and my cousins.
Philip – "He was such a prince among men & women" – I wholeheartedly agree. And I can't believe he's gone either.
Froylan – I love these stories about Victor. "From picking grapes in the fields of Fresno County to a national award, Victor was truly a great writer." Thanks for sharing your love for "Tinco." It sounds like he touched many, many people's hearts/
What great tributes to someone who made an impact on people's lives through the written word. I think what Phillip Levine had to say is most certainly repeated by many in the teaching profession who shared Victor's work with students.
Sal – I hope teachers will continue to share Victor's work with students. I know I will once I start teaching.
Thank you all for being apart of my uncles life, I have to be reminded from time to time, just how many lives he has touched.
I knew Victor from working at the Galeria de la Raza. I was always glad to see him and to listen to his beautiful voice read his wonderful poems.
Joaquin and Kathy – It's amazing how many lives Victor touched through both his writing and his heart.
Victor—a good friend first of all, and a strong supporter of my magazine. We got together on many occasions, traded news and laughs, talked about writing and some of the amazing and amusing corners of the literary scene, played chess, gave readings together. Tough & tender, competitive, frank, dedicated to beauty as a maker and truth as a thinker, with his own strong opinions and a willingness to listen to others. A tireless, diligent worker in words. It's too hard to use the past tense right now. I hope that the unpublished novels he's written will get out there at last, and I am sure there are many poems, too. His wife, Tina, is also a very discerning reader and probably will take a leading role in the effort. Any of you who are involved, stick to it!
Thanks so much for that beautiful homage to Victor, Richard. I do hope Victor's unpublished works make it into print.
Victor is and will always be my absolute inspiration. I can't imagine a life without him. He was my balance, my tester. His poems are like the grinding of his voice and when it was time to put it down, really down, like perfectly down, cuz that's what you have to do, right? You have to put it down and right, right? He did it. Like riding a bike. Parrot wasn't Vic's baby, it was proof that he can put on a cape and fly. Vic was a Poet! Obsessed with things that are absolute, haunting, never talked about over a meal. And he didn't care. He wrote them. Pushing us to the door knob of our own fears, of his fear, which he admitts like a man. In a Cook-Book World, who will count these new poems? In his new poems he lashes out, reminding us of stupid lies. We had some moments before he left us and one in particular, we argued about one word. One fucking word! He bit down, wispered, "No, John, that one word was the whole poem!" One word! And I, persistent, stupid, said, "No Vic, I don't think it's the right word, Vic. Nope I don't." One word! Victor gave his life for words and for a moment there I hated those black, ant bodied, cruel, lifeless, meant to be swallowed by fools or shuved down someones throat…I am so fucking pissed right now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I had the honor of editing his new book of poems. I am his brother. It's hard to be understood when your throat is swelling with grief. I will be brief. I loved Vic so much that I am forgetting my keys, going to the store and forgetting what to buy. I am wanting to see his ghost, but that won't happen. I told him that I loved him. He knows what love is. Tina knows what love is. Victor wrote great poems. Victor gave his all and for this he is an example. Vic, I will always hear your voice, see your image, learn from your work. You can be stacked now, in the bookshelf we loved so much. You are one of the Greats. Thank you for The Storm.
John – Thank you so much for expressing how much you love Victor. I think we should compile all these comments and post them at the memorial for his friend and family to read.
Along with Joanna Cotler, I was Victor's editor at HarperCollins. I was there the night he won the National Book Award for Parrot in the Oven. What joy! What sheer joy! What an honor and privilege it was to work with Victor, to know him. Sadly we had lost touch over the last few years. I left publishing full time a while ago, had a family, left NYC. He contacted me via email a few years ago and I asked if he wanted to visit me in Kentucky, where I now live, but the trip never happened. Even though we'd not spoken in so long I simply took it for granted that one day our paths would cross again. I'm just stunned — stunned — that it won't happen — at least not in this life time. I wish you peace, Vic, and an amazing ride on your next journey. I also send my deepest condolences to your family and friends.
[…] Adiós Victor Martinez We’re sad here at the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto to announce the death of poet and novelist Victor Martinez. His bio on the Harper Collins website reads: Victor Martinez was born and raised in Fresno, California, the fourth in a family of twelve children. He attended California State University at Fresno and Stanford University, and has worked as a field laborer, welder, truck driver, firefighter, teacher, and office clerk. His poems, short stories, and essays have appeared in journals and anthologies. Mr. Martinez was awarded the 1996 National Book Award for Young People’s Literature for Parrot in the Oven, his first novel. (Meghan Ward) […]
Thanks, Heather, for another beautiful homage to Victor. I'm going to compile these into a book for his wife. I hope no one objects.
It was great to meet so many of you at the memorial service today. Victor was blessed to have so many wonderful friends and family members, and i's reassuring to know that Tina will have such a large support network during these difficult coming months.
"The sun was bright as an egg yoke leaking an orange finger across a porcelain plate"
Brilliant! RIP Victor.
Please remember that Victor accomplished so much because of his most adoring wife, Tina Alvarez. She is the one. Tina, you are a Saint.
Ani – I know, isn't that line amazing?
Rona – Yes, Tina is amazing! Thank you Tina for everything you've done!
I didn't know him. But looking at his face, I miss him, especially after reading that brief excerpt. That is powerful writing. So sad for us that such a brilliant voice is gone from our midst.
Ann – we miss him, too. I received your book today, by the way. Looking forward to reading it next week.