Why Read Denizens Of My Time?

During these last few years, I’ve attended meetings with the denizens of my time, a series of short stories that range from the human to the supernatural that often tend to meld into one another.

While it’s true that we don’t see things as they are, but rather see ourselves as we are, we stand before a complex, prolific and boundless writer. Rebecca Gomez Galindo’s short stories make no attempt whatsoever in avoiding even the harshest display of reality, rather in an optimistic sort of way they confront it directly by grabbing the proverbial bull by its horns. They are like the magical formulas in alchemy, seeking to transmute the roughness of a rock into the velvety smoothness of a golden nugget, all the while engulfing the reader in their midst with the stealth of a tarantula, to make us forget that we are in fact, reading, thus allowing us to be a part of that mystical world.


These short stories always offer some sort of hope, both in this world as well as in the otherworld, brought to us either by human or by divine intervention.


When virtues are at a premium, the denizens of my time believe in miracles and walk that fine line between humanity and divinity; angels materialize in city streets and aliens search for the meaning of Christmas. The author skillfully recalibrates the cosmology of the universe and forces us to get over the notion that stories about mankind can only be told by man. She concocts a universe in which all voices converge. In “The devil’s breath”, she mutates into Saint Francis of Assisi, giving birds the power of speech. In “Zeke”, she becomes a bottle. In “Quantum love”, we witness the transmigration of the souls, using the river Seine as the backdrop, a river that aches and longs to become an ocean. The loneliness of a little street urchin lay in heavenly hope and the security beneath the wings in “Mercuriana”.


But let the reader make no mistake, because these stories are not of the scholarly kind. The denizens of my time are multifarious, uncommon and deep. They go beyond the known limits of our own universe by penetrating within the depths of yet another, such as they do in “Palimar”. They metamorphose from a menacing metropolis into an all-embracing shell that protects life within itself, as it occurs in “The conch shell”. They unleash upon us symbols and dreams, challenging and daring the reader to interpret their meaning within that oneiric labyrinth and become a part of history, as it happens in “The vulture”.


The denizens of my time are paintings not constrained by the boundaries of their frames. The author breathes life into her characters, outlining their fates in the palms of their hands and then letting them go to seek their own destiny. This is why the reader should approach these pages with caution, without taking anything for granted, casting aside that self-assured arrogance that makes him believe to be all-knowing, and rather allow himself to taste the pleasure of surprise as well as the sensuality of the games played among gods, heroes and men. He must remain a child before the eyes of the universe.


During our voyage through these pages, we will witness miracles, freak occurrences, the breach of the laws of nature that will astonish us with their fluidity and beauty. Rebecca Gomez Galindo is Scheherazade, who has taken up the task of keeping the denizens of her time with their eyes and ears wide open, because if life must go on, then it must do so with stories.


Alfredo Avalos,


© Rebeca Gomez 2012