Dr. Aldama's critical and biographical introduction to the work and life of the late Arturo Islas (author of The Rain God, Migrant Souls, and La Mollie and the King of Tears) beautifully contours the nuances of all of this Chicano author's unpublished poetry, short stories, and scholarly essays. Culled from archives at Stanford University, the many works collected and edited offer a complex view of Arturo Islas who began to explore in fiction and poetry issues of sexual (gay) and racial (Chicano) identity in his early 20s (the late 1950s) while taking classes with Hortense Calisher, Wallace Stegner, and Yvor Winters at Stanford. For any scholar serious about Chicano/a literary studies--or any reader interested in Chicano/a letters generally--this is a must read.

Better than many recognized tales, this book can be enjoyed if you read first "Barrabas y Otros relatos". Venezuelan criticism in a poor society.

This book was a nominee for the Bay Area Book Reviewers Association (BABRA) Fiction Award. La Mollie is a surprising gem of a book. If only Mr. Islas were still alive to write some more...

Islas's poetic story is about the Angel family, originally from Mexico, and now living in America near the border. Weaving back and forth across time and weaving the various threads of family members together, it gives a stunning portrait of its various individuals and the whole family stuck on the boundary of heritage, of class, of race, of religion. There's Miguel Chico who's avoiding his sexuality as he struggles to balance his Mexican identity with his American education. His father Miguel Grande loves his wife and his mistress equally, and when he's forced to choose, he finds he cannot. And Miguel Grande's brother Felix who is unable to escape his passions for young men, which brings his life to a violent end. And throughout it all, there's the women in the Angel family who are steady, patient, and at the heart of the family. It's a beautiful, poetic series of snapshots that flows with the reader like the water the desert lacks.

Arturo Islas's ten-year search for a publisher for this novel reveals the sad tragedy of commercialism and racism in the literary world. White editors told him that his book was not 'authentic' enough: where were the gangs, the poverty, the struggle of barrio life? Islas, an authentic Mexican-American, stood firm for a decade until The Rain God was at last published, to the great joy of all its readers. In just over 200 pages, it chronicles three generations of a family living in a border town in Texas, and probes at the borders and divisions in all of our lives: parents vs. children, modern vs. traditional, gay vs. straight, human vs. supernatural, and body vs. soul. Surprisingly, all of this is done with great subtlety and flow; you must be an active reader to pick up on Islas's themes. It is the type of book you can reread half a dozen times (as I have) and see something new each time. It is profound, haunting, and filled with music. The Rain God is the greatest American novel since The Great Gatsby.

If there is anyone, regardless of background that wants to comprehend Hisapnic culture, this story is the best source. It gives a good description of the beauty and confusion of the Hispanic culture and gives an insight of the unique culture and an affirmation that all Hispanic cultures are indeed unique. Also, the beauty of the "desert" is at last, given its true and deserved respect.