(Subcommandante, desculpame--forgive me.) For a brief year, I was a Senior Editor for FRIGATE, A Transverse review of Books, sailing more or less out of New York City. As our busy lives overtook us and the last edition remained at half-mast (and half-filled), my review of Subcommandante Marcos, Lancondon forest guerrilla, lay on my "I'll get to it" pile. Like E.D., who has rediscovered treasures in his literary attic, I reread the review and think it might have some merit, though the political scene, they tell us (now they promise us), has changed. Marcos is still there among the endangered Lancandon Maya. The great decades of protest--the 60s and 70s are nearly 50 and 40 years old, respectively--and farce seems to be our most faithful weapon. Subcommandante Marcos, the famous masked man, does it well, deadly serious as the struggle of indigenous peoples continues...
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