Benjamin Alire Sáenz
The American literary landscape of the late twentieth century saw a growing number of writers working across multiple forms — poetry, fiction, and work for younger readers — while drawing on regional and cultural experience that had long remained at the margins of mainstream publishing. Benjamin Alire Sáenz, born on August 16, 1954, in Doña Ana County, belongs to that current, having built a body of work that moves between verse, the novel, the short story, and writing for children and young adults.
Sáenz was educated at Las Cruces High School, Stanford University, the University of Texas at El Paso, and the University of Iowa — a formation that spans the borderland Southwest and two of the more demanding writing programs in the country. Working in English and American English, he has pursued his craft across several distinct registers: the concentrated compression of poetry, the sustained architecture of the novel, the abbreviated intensity of the short story, and the particular demands of children's and young adult fiction. He also works as a docent, extending his engagement with literature beyond the page.
That range has drawn sustained recognition. Sáenz has received the Tomás Rivera Award, the Américas Award, the Belpré Medal, the Lambda Literary Award, the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction, and the American Book Awards — a set of honors that cuts across genre categories and speaks to the breadth of his output. The PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction, one of the more closely watched prizes in American letters, represents a particular marker of the critical attention his prose has earned.
Quotes by Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Benjamin Alire Sáenz's insights on:

I didn’t understand how you could live in a mean world and not have any of that meanness rub off on you. How could a guy live without meanness?

It was good to laugh. I wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh until I laughed myself into becoming someone else.

It felt like there was a whole world living inside her. I didn’t know anything about that world.

Why did I have to be a good boy just because I had a bad-boy brother? I hated the way my mom and dad did family math.

And why was it that some guys had tears in them and some had no tears at all? Different boys lived by different rules.

I had a rule that it was better to be bored by yourself than to be bored with someone else. I pretty much lived by that rule. Maybe that’s why I didn’t have any friends.

I hated being volunteered. The problem with my life was that it was someone else’s idea.


