Hi.
First of all, I know we got started
a little bit late today, and that's my fault
and I take full responsibility.
I grew up in a family where if my mom wanted English people
to come over at eight, she would invite them at, like, six
and then be mad when they showed up at seven.
And I don't know how to overcome that.
[LAUGHTER]
So, I'm sorry.
Anyways, moving on.
OK, so on a recent hike up Mount Lemmon,
Rubén talked to me about how important interdisciplinarity
is in his work.
And that meant a lot to me because his writing
has been a guiding voice for me in overcoming binaries
that I've struggled with for a long time.
I first encountered Rubén's work at the library here on campus.
I was searching in the catalog for works that could guide me
in understanding where humans and nature come together
on the land.
I had gotten a Master's degree in biology
because I loved the complexity and beauty
of the natural world, but I embarked on an MFA
in Creative Writing here because I loved the complexity
and the beauty of humanity even more.
Yet somehow I couldn't seem to unite the two
worlds that I lived in.
On the one hand, the pursuit of science, research
and conservation; and on the other hand, my deep concern
for social justice and the immigrant community that
raised me.
But Rubén's Desert America, Boom and Bust in the New Old West,
which I highly recommend reading if you haven't.
It's not here tonight, so you should order it online.
Had just arrived at the library when I searched around that day
and it guided me in writing people back onto the landscape.
Rubén's journalistic eye for detail and judicious research,
his economy of words and his poetic writing showed me that
it is possible to collapse the binaries of nature versus
human, and still write something that people actually want
to read.
Reading Rubén's work, I've seen how people are not separate
from the landscape, people are the landscape.
We make the world, even as it shapes us.
In Crossing Over: A Mexican Family on the Migrant Trail,
an earlier book of Rubén's that traces one Mexican
family's experience in crossing the US-Mexican border,
Rubén taught me even more about writing--
how to give dignity to the people who let
us invade their lives in pursuit of stories.
I also loved the basic sentence level craft
that I saw in the book.
It opens with a scene that had me nearly jumping out
of my skin in anticipation that's basically a description
of Rubén driving a little bit, getting out of his vehicle,
and then staring at the ground.
[LAUGHTER]
I think it's Rubén's spirituality that I've learned
the most from though.
I know the word gets thrown around a lot but I took
a workshop with Rubén one summer and found myself reading,
to my surprise, Laudato si', the Pope's encyclical on climate
change.
My heart melted, somewhat like a glacier.
Rubén's spirituality is real and it's thoughtful and it's brave.
Partly because I come from the sciences
and partly because I come from a religious minority,
I don't often talk about religion with other writers,
or really anyone outside my family.
I think what I appreciate about Rubén's spirituality
and interdisciplinarity and journalistic eye for truth is
that he's earned the questions he's asking.
He's asking them honestly, persistently, intelligently
and compassionately.
I can't wait to see what questions he asks next.
And with that, I give you Rubén Martínez.
[APPLAUSE]