100 Books Like Graciela Iturbide's Mexico

Gertrude (Trudi) Blom (1901-1993) was a Swiss journalist, photographer, and environmental activist who went to the rain forest of Chiapas, the Mexican state bordering Guatemala, to work with the Lacandon people, a community of indigenous Mayas. 

Blom was there for almost forty years, between 1941 and 1979, documenting the lives and culture of the Lacandons. Her photographs show an intense love for a vanishing culture and landscape—the lush natural environment of the Lacandons as well as their activities: agriculture, hunting, religious customs, and family structures.

Blom’s late photos document the increasing pressure on their ecosystem, and thus their way of life. These photographs inspired me to learn more about the rich cultures of Mexico’s indigenous people, and to do what we can to protect their fragile environments.

The Mexican Revolution was photographed by many photographers, foreigners as well as Mexicans, whose photographs were collected by news agencies and distributed immediately in newspapers, sometimes even as the fighting was going on. Their photos record defining moments in Mexico’s history, and offer portraits of its participants: soldiers and camp followers (women and children), as well as iconic leaders Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata, among others. 

I love this book because it is written by a woman who lived her whole life in Mexico, experienced events of the Revolution, and knew many of its participants. Her personal account is accompanied by 184 photos that enhance her text and make events and people come alive.

The importance of this Revolution cannot be exaggerated. It engulfed much of Mexico for at least two decades (1910-1930), and claimed between 2 and 3.5 million lives. Troops advanced on horseback and trains, in dusty fields… show more.

Having read The Winds that Swept Mexico and seen the amazing photographs in that book, you’ll want to know more about the photographers who risked their lives to accompany Mexican troops in battle and in haphazard camps waiting for something to happen.

This book includes many photographs, but focusses on the history of the Revolution as shown in those photographs, and the processes of photography itself:  how photographers worked in the early twentieth century in the midst of war, and how their photographs were collected and published as the Revolution raged on.

John Mraz is an excellent “visual historian.” I admire the way he explains how photographers got their “shots” of mounted revolutionaries and battles and camp followers—the sweethearts and wives and children who followed the troops, cooked for them, and sometimes tended to their wounds.

Mraz also explains how their photographs became instant propaganda for particular leaders and causes—and… show more.

Photographs pretend to replicate the real, as do literary fictions, and yet both media also create their own “realities”.

This book explores how photographs, placed in fictional narratives, can distort and deceive characters (and the reader) or, to the contrary, illustrate and illuminate the story. Photographs in the hands of writers can create alternative “realities” within the fictional world or reveal the truth! 

A primary example of the use of photography in fiction is the Argentine writer Julio Cortázar’s famous story “Blow up,” which was made into a movie—now a classic—directed by Michelangelo Antonioni. In Dan Russek’s book, we see a number of such “mixed media” fictions.

I love Latin American photography, and I love seeing how Latin American novelists engage this powerful medium for their own literary purposes.

I like biographies that approach a subject from a different angle and this book does that by focusing on the animals that influenced Frida Kahlo. By witnessing Frida’s relationships with her pets—a parrot, eagle, fawn, cat, dogs, turkeys, monkeys—kids will get to know Frida and learn how she became one of the world’s most beloved artists despite several challenges. The back matter explains that the artist often included her pets in her work. So when readers of this biography encounter one of Kahlo’s animalito paintings (perhaps in a museum or in another book), they will delight in recognizing Frida’s furry and feathered friends. A wonderful way to introduce kids to an artist’s work!

I was simultaneously horrified and riveted by this painstaking, searing account of a mine fire that took place in the Mexican mining center of Pachuca in 1920 and the subsequent coverup by the government and media.

The underground fire that burns even as those on the surface go about their business is both historical fast and a metaphor for the “silent fury” of many Mexicans over the inhumanity of corporations operating in their country, and over the conditions of impunity created by legal and political institutions.

This fury continues to burn in the 2020s, Herrera suggests, just as it did in the 1920s. 

If you ask American expats in San Miguel de Allende how they “discovered” this beautiful city in the central highlands as far from a beach as one can be in Mexico, a significant percentage of us will mention Tony Cohan’s lovely memoir, On Mexican Time, set in the San Miguel of 1985.

San Miguel is often referred to as magical, and most of us tend to think of whatever moment we personally arrived as peak San Miguel magic. The longer we’re here, the more nostalgic we grow for that lost era. The thing about magic, though, is that it can evolve. Today’s San Miguel de Allende is less sleepy and quirky than the town Tony described, but it is still abundantly charmed.

This book first caught my attention for the title—it’s a common Mexican phrase we use at the end of a fairytale story.

When I began reading it, I loved that the author used different color fonts so we can identify which character is talking. I found it very entertaining and fun.

When I read it, I was living in pain, longing to have a partner. This book helped me to see that nothing can be rushed; everything happens when it must happen. I learned that I could use fear to my favor and live life as I want, because the rest will come. Life is always on our side. And from time to time, I still read again the key parts that helped me when I was in pain.

Like Silverblatt’s book on native women in prehispanic and colonial Peru, this edited volume on early Mexico was and remains a gamer changer in bringing to light women’s work, including ways women accumulated and distributed wealth, their varieties of social and political identities they held, and their power and influence.

With chapters by experts in Aztec/Nahua women’s, social, and cultural history, the chapters represent a variety of approaches and methodologies to women’s and gender history even in areas where the documentation on women is sparser than in central Mesoamerica, especially for northern Mexico and Maya women further south.

Oh, this is an amazing book! Hard to read in a few places, because it deals openly with the aftermath of a gruesome suicide. But if you ask me, that’s what readers need – openness about subjects, such as suicide, topics which many people would prefer to avoid altogether. Also, I’ve met author Don Aker and I love him. He told me he got the idea for this story from a real-life suicide that took place in his community.