Zapatista stories for dreaming an‐other world By SubcomandanteMarcos, Oakland: PM Press/Kairos. 2022. 160 pages. $23.90 (paperback). ISBN: 9781629639703

In the realm of revolutionary prose and militant praxis, few liberation movements and armed insurgencies manage to fuse the poetic and the political, not to mention strike a chord in the heart about what it means to be deeply human, as elegantly and compassionately as the Zapatistas. Zapatista stories for dreaming an-other world, written by the idiosyncratic former spokesperson of the Zapatistas, Subcomandante Marcos, and recently translated by the Lightning Collective, adds to the rebellious and fanciful tradition of what might otherwise be referred to as “Zapatismo”—a kaleidoscopic set of principles, politics, and collective ethics owed to the Zapatistas that are as empathetic as they are emancipatory. In highlighting the translation work and interpretative commentaries of the Lightning Collective—rather than focusing on the communiqués of Subcomandante Marcos, which have been extensively translated and appear in various forums elsewhere—my goal is to emphasize the merits of this specific book given the enrichening and explanative insights that the translation team offers, which deepen the understanding of Marcos's messages beyond their initial presentation when read alone as standalone texts without context. I also want to underscore the importance of translation for grassroots social movements by paying homage to the initial desires of the Zapatista Secondary School in Oventic, who initially proposed the dissemination of these stories to the Argentine Zapatista Solidarity Network over two decades ago. Notably, whilst the need for international solidarity is always urgent, it is equally important for it to be a lasting and long-term commitment, which is engendered by this particular collection. The Lightning Collective achieves a rare balance of providing readers with accessible explicatory commentaries and acute authoritative political analyses in relation to an eclectic series of 12 communiques and stories the Zapatistas released after their 1994 uprising “for humanity, against neoliberalism” and declaration of war against “oblivion” (Marcos, 2002, p. 141). The anthology (aka “accidental archive” [p. xxxiii]) is the English language translation of Los Otros Cuentos, a solidarity project borne out of a collaborative encounter in 2008 between the Zapatista Secondary School in Oventic (Chiapas, Mexico) and the Argentine Zapatista Solidarity Network. The Lightning Collective notes that the translation, as well as the addition of their own illuminating observations that situate the stories in the historical and geopolitical context of the Zapatista rebellion, took over 10 years to complete and spanned several geographies. It was well worth the wait, which perfectly emulates the measured and gradual pace at which the Zapatistas are constructing autonomy. The movement deliberately advances slowly and makes use of the caracol (snail) as a symbol of their rebellion, so the members of the Lightning Collective are in good company. A salient feature of the collection is its recognition of memory, humour, and love as potent sources of revolutionary practice and struggles for freedom. Like other writers, the Lightning Collective acknowledges that no linguistic interpretation of any term, turn of phrase, or layered story is infallible (Fitzwater, 2019, p. 10). And while the translators humbly note that they, à la Zapatistas, still have much to learn, the volume is a testament to the collective's own commitment to and specialist knowledge of the autonomous movement. Their translations retain the trenchant and trickster-esque ethos of the original communiques, rendering them intuitive without sacrificing authenticity. The editorial team's instructive commentaries, which comprise the latter half of the book and map sequentially onto the initial Zapatista stories, are richly perceptive, culturally sensitive, and analytically sophisticated. The entire text, commendably published by a radical independent press, is a welcome respite from the oft-detached discursive solipsism of bourgeois academia, which all too frequently sees scholars divorced from accountability to social movements, theorizing for theory's sake, predominantly in corporate journals. Contrariwise, in the spirit of Walter Rodney's “groundings” (Rodney, 2019, p. 8) and “guerrilla intellectuals” (Rodney, 2022, p. 64), each commentary reads like an incisive conjunctural analysis and act of solidarity that balances rigorous research with an abiding respect for and dedication to the source material. This reverence especially shines through in the introduction, particularly its homage to the resolve, carework, and the political agency of Zapatista women, which further illustrates their indispensable contribution to the strength of the movement and broader Zapatista struggle for freedom, democracy, and justice. From my vantage point, if there is a corporal manifestation of Audre Lorde's (2018, p. 16) contention that “the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house,” it just might be the compañeras (see also Klein, 2015). At the heart of these stories is the belief that memory, discernment, and collectivity can be forceful catalysts for transformative change. Further, both the Zapatista communiques and commentaries that follow offer a window into the pivotal roles that Indigenous people's diverse organizing traditions, ancestral connections, revolutionary imaginaries, and environmental relations play in the Zapatistas' ongoing practice of autonomy, not to mention their larger endeavour of reckoning with the “capitalist hydra” (Sixth Commission of the EZLN, 2016, p. 13). It is not surprising that the most common clarion calls emanating from the movement are: “ya basta (enough!)”; “everything for everyone, nothing for us”; “asking, we walk”; and the need to build “a world where many worlds fit” (Gahman et al., 2022, pp. 24–26). The stories reveal that, for an oppressed people, memory is not merely a static repository of past historical events, but rather a vibrant living archive that can (re)ignite possibilities for collective rebellion, alternative futures, and better worlds. In this vein, the book underscores the vitalizing wisdom embedded in dynamic Indigenous worldviews, predominantly Maya with respect to the Zapatistas. This offers readers a glimpse of how ever evolving and heterogenous Indigenous ways of knowing and being can be “re-rooted and re-routed” (Penados, 2017, p. 1) as a means of breathing life into sustainable and just futures from below. Central to the stories in the first half of the text are characters like Don Durito and Old Antonio, whose tales infuse the Zapatista struggle with comedy, tragedy, allegorical depth, and hope. Don Durito, a diminutive yet brazen, pipe-smoking, quixotic beetle, symbolizes the tenacious determination and intellectual capacity of the oppressed to critically “read the world” around them (Freire, 2017, p. 26), while Old Antonio represents the wisdom, prudence, and resilience of Indigenous cosmovision and collective memory. Their chronicles-cum-parables, ranging from playfully amusing to profoundly militant, reflect the Zapatistas' unique blend of humour, conviction, and gravitas. The stories inject irony and irreverence into deeply serious politics and contextualized combat where the stakes are unmistakably high—life, death, and dignity. The whimsy is by no means mere frivolity; it creates space and makes time for imagination and creativity, and is a shrewd unsettling of colonial modernity's hegemonic discourses. In this respect, the Zapatistas' deployment of humour, love, and hope becomes a subversive tool that at once undermines authoritarianism and fosters genial solidarity across difference. Such motifs animate the assertion that revolutionary movements can—arguably must—be nurtured by joy, laughter, conviviality, and dance alongside more strategic and tactical forms of insurgent resistance and armed community defence. Undeniably, bell hooks (2000) would be proud. What sets the Lightning Collective's contribution apart is its accessibility to a diverse audience and wide array of potential readers. Notably, the role of translation and interpretation in liberation movements and revolutionary struggles is often thankless and overlooked, despite how crucial it is as a means of disseminating ideas, insights, and camaraderie across linguistic and cultural divides. Whether one is a seasoned follower of the Zapatista movement or a curious newcomer, the book's format—political communiques complemented by cogent analytical commentaries—offers multiple entry points into the radical and whimsical world of Zapatismo. While the stories and accompanying interpretations seem deceptively simple, in tandem they lucidly capture the essence of the Zapatista movement and make the complex historical conjuncture of their uprising comprehensible. This is no small feat for a team of translators, which makes the book an invaluable resource for anyone interested in understanding the depth, breadth, and lifeblood of Zapatismo. To end, if you believe decolonization should be neither a metaphor (Tuck and Yang, 2012) nor a calculated career move made by cunning academics, as well as agree with Frantz Fanon (1963, p. 88) when he avows that “the political education of the masses is now recognized as an historical necessity,” then this book is for you. In translating and sharing the Zapatista communiques alongside their own thoughtful and elucidative commentaries, the Lightning Collective has accomplished what it set out to do: underscore the enduring relevance of the Zapatista movement and motivate readers to seek out “futures yet to be born, paths not yet walked, dawns yet to break” (p. vii). Indeed, this “accidental archive” (p. xxxiii) will serve as a much-needed elixir for the disillusioned soul and glimmer of light for lovers of literature, revolution, and anyone seeking optimism in the dark and despairing times. In addition to making you smile, laugh, and feel your heartbeat once again, the Zapatista stories and work the Lightning Collective has done with this volume will inspire you to double down on humanity, hope, and love—as well as perhaps even reach for a machete.

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