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High Aztech Paperback – January 1, 1992
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- Print length256 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherTom Doherty Assoc Llc
- Publication dateJanuary 1, 1992
- Dimensions4.25 x 0.75 x 7 inches
- ISBN-100812508661
- ISBN-13978-0812508666
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Product details
- Publisher : Tom Doherty Assoc Llc; First Edition (January 1, 1992)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 256 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0812508661
- ISBN-13 : 978-0812508666
- Item Weight : 4.8 ounces
- Dimensions : 4.25 x 0.75 x 7 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #4,700,317 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #25,005 in Occult Fiction
- #186,253 in Science Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author

Author of CORTEZ ON JUPITER, HIGH AZTECH, SMOKING MIRROR BLUES, "The Frankenstein Penis," and other acts of creative outrage.
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In the early 1990s, a Chicano from East L.A. published a pair of science fiction novels that would go on to receive considerable critical acclaim and make significant inroads into the genre for Latinos everywhere.
Hewing more closely to weird, gonzo pulp fiction and comics than to the more politically active realism preferred by the Chicano intelligentsia, he was for many years unknown to his hermanos literarios. The culturally embedded nature of his narratives likewise made him less palatable to mainstream readers of sci-fi. Both of these oversights are gradually being corrected. Soon Ernest Hogan will be recognized as an essential, revolutionary voice.
By the late 1980s, Hogan had published several stories in Analog and other professional markets, and this success encouraged him to submit a manuscript to author Ben Bova, who was curating at the time a series of novels by up-and-coming writers for TOR. Their resulting negotiations produced in 1990 what is likely the first Chicano “hard sf” novel ever: the widely hailed Cortez on Jupiter.
Two years later, Hogan followed his debut up with the cyberpunk masterpiece High Aztech.
The story line is set in the year 2045, in a Mexico City that has returned to its ancient name of Tenochtitlan, the capital of a country to which Americans now flock due to the decline of the United States. This migrant flood complicates the revival of the Aztec religion, as Christian groups vie with indigenous Mexican beliefs, leading to the creation of biological virii that infect human minds with the ideology of one faith or the other. Xólotl Zapata, a renegade cartoonist, is the carrier of the Aztec virus, and he soon finds himself pursued by multiple groups hoping to stop the ascendancy of Mexico. Yet their plan to cancel out his infection with their own has consequences that they could never have imagined.
Now, I’m going to be straight-forward about something: High Aztech is not an easy read. That’s a good thing, however. Hogan crafted a novel that rivals the bizarrely cryptic genre work of Burroughs or Lessing, that takes linguistic, philosophical, and structural risks along the lines of A Clockwork Orange.
The frame story is an interrogation of Xólotl, but his erratic, ADHD stream of memories is interrupted by commentary from observers, notes from field operations, and other creative techniques for widening the narrative net. While these choices mean we don’t get as much character development and depth as perhaps traditional methods might achieve, for Hogan’s philosophical and politically speculative purposes, it’s a great fit.
Most spectacular, however, is the hybrid language with which Xólotl laces his responses to the interrogation. Called Españahuatl, this fusion of Spanish and Nahuatl (the indigenous Aztec tongue) is at times wildly funny and earnestly poignant, much like the “Nadsat” that Anthony Burgess once crafted.
Sadly, TOR pretty much abandoned the novel right after its publication, doing nothing to publicize a book that they clearly realized was more ethnic than they had expected. Fooled by his last name, many in the publishing world didn’t realize that Hogan was actually a Chicano (rather than a daring Anglo). His full-throated expression of Latino sensibilities within the frame of science fiction is only now being fully appreciated.
[There is at the end a glossary (totally not necessary) and a pronunciation guide, which might be useful if not knowing the correct pronunciation would be a distraction to you. I managed OK thanks to long ago high school Spanish.]
The repeated kidnapping of Xólotl is ridiculous in a good way. It’s hilarious and wild. It puts him in touch with outrageous characters, from the head of the Recycling Syndicate (NOT the Garbage Queen, thank you very much!), to the head of a mafia family, the figureheads of the High Aztech organization, multiple governments, and the leader of a dangerous gang. Everyone wants to understand the mysterious artificial virus Xólotl carries, or they want to kill him for some unrelated reason.
Things become incredibly surreal. Surrealism is not my favorite style. It often feels like the author vomited up a stew of random events and images with no overarching reason behind it. In this case, however, it works fairly well. It does a really good job of showing the ways in which various things are affecting Xólotl’s mind–and how his mind is affected is a central part of the plot. It’s a very hallucinatory experience with some interesting philosophical views on religion.
The narrative is a weird mix of first- and third-person point of view. It’s mostly told from Xólotl’s viewpoint, but it’s interspersed with the observations of a mysterious organization that’s using electronic bugs to follow him around. There’s a section where the two flip back and forth very quickly that’s a little dizzying, but somehow… it kind of works.
The milieu is wonderful. There are people who have their hearts removed and replaced with artificial hearts to honor the Aztec gods. There are those who eat tacos made from synthesized human DNA to mimic Aztecan ritual. We’re introduced to the names and identities of many legendary figures. It’s a fascinating read.





