Alejandro Heredia Brings Rigor to Friendship in Debut, 'LOCA'

By Amaris Castillo

Alejandro Heredia’s debut novel, LOCA, ignites with a pivotal decision. Sal's résumé rests in his bag, yet he can't muster the courage to leave his apartment. He chooses not to attend a job interview – “his little American dream folded into an envelope.” Even though he envisions himself working at a museum, something intangible holds him back. Perhaps it is a lack of language or a fear of articulating his feelings.

So, Sal calls his best friend, Charo, and heads to her apartment. There, evidence of domestic life surrounds him – neatly folded pants on the couch and the scent of Clorox wafting from the bathroom. “A younger Charo would scoff at what Sal sees now,” Heredia observes. “I’m never gonna be like those viejas locked up at home tending to a man,” she once told him.

Both Charo and Sal grapple with numerous internal conflicts. Charo, a mother in her mid-20s, is constrained by a controlling partner. On the other hand, Sal is a science nerd, captivated by the planets and stars, yet haunted by memories from his past life in Santo Domingo. Set in 1999, both characters strive to reshape their realities into something more fulfilling.

With both grace and brutal honesty, Heredia crafts a profound narrative about young Dominican lives. The story beautifully intertwines their experiences across time and space. Traveling from Santo Domingo to The Bronx, it delves into themes of community, queer spaces, motherhood, and the exquisite pain and power of unvarnished friendship. Weeks after finishing LOCA, I find myself still reflecting on Sal and Charo, hoping for their success – a testament to Heredia's talent in breathing life into his characters.

LOCA will publish on Feb. 11 from Simon & Schuster. Ahead of the book’s release, Heredia spoke with the Dominican Writers Association about the inspiration behind his debut novel and his portrayal of friendship.

Congratulations on LOCA. How do you feel about it becoming tangible soon, for readers to hold?

It feels fantastic. I dedicated significant time to writing this book during lunch breaks, mornings, evenings, and weekends. Initially, I wrote it for myself without envisioning it reaching a wider audience. Over time, that perspective changed. It feels validating to hear from early readers who connect with the characters and their journeys.

In your note to readers, you reflect on your older cousin, Junior, who passed away by suicide in 2018. Can you share more about him?

I grew up in the Dominican Republic until I was seven. My parents were in the US during that time, and Junior's parents were also here. That's why I feel Junior was more of a brother than a cousin. We lived in the same house with our grandparents. He played a crucial role in my life. He taught me how to ride a bike and participated in countless childhood memories.

Even after I moved to the US, we stayed connected through phone calls, discussing shows like Sex in the City and our dreams for our lives. He was an Aries—direct yet warm, someone I could turn to for comfort. With him, I could let my guard down and be myself.

You mentioned that this sudden loss created an urgency within you to capture the worlds you and Junior came from. Was it challenging to start writing LOCA?

Not really. I wrote the first draft in under a year—about seven months. The challenge lay in the revisions that followed. Initially, drawing from familiar experiences made it easier since I was immersed in a world I knew intimately.

The novel is set in the 1990s, which I didn’t consciously experience. I was born then but lacked awareness. However, I absorbed many stories about my parents' experiences in this new country, which shaped the narrative.

The book is set in 1999—a significant year that resonates with readers. What inspired this timeline?

Several factors influenced my decision. Sal and Charo have a complex relationship with the future, filled with anxiety and uncertainty. To amplify this drama, what better time than 1999, when the world was apprehensive about the potential Y2K disaster?

Moreover, I wanted to center the Dominican experience in The Bronx during the 1990s, as it reflects my parents' generational struggles. This perspective honors their experiences and captures the essence of their lives.

Your main characters, Sal and Charo, are navigating life in New York City. How did you envision their relationship, and did it evolve during your writing process?

From the start, I aimed to depict friendship authentically, highlighting nuance and complexity. Often, friendships in literature appear idealized, lacking conflict. I wanted Sal and Charo to have a deep understanding that allows them to challenge each other. Their relationship showcases love and tension, revealing how friends can push each other to grow.

Charo, in particular, motivates those she cares about to reach their potential. Their dynamic reflects the duality of love and conflict inherent in deep relationships.

In LOCA, you vividly portray both the Dominican Republic and New York. What was your intent in representing queer spaces within the story?

Having read numerous immigrant narratives, I felt a lack of queer representation in these stories. I aimed to explore conditions pushing queer individuals to leave their homes. I wanted to show that queer communities exist in Santo Domingo, creating spaces for connection and support amid potential violence and oppression.

Your exploration of Dominican culture is refreshingly honest. Why was it essential for you to address issues of homophobia and prejudice?

My priority is to present human experiences authentically. I reject the notion that communal identity shields us from conflict. Intra-communal violence exists within groups, and I seek to portray my people with rigor and humanity. They have flaws and face challenges, which makes their stories resonate more deeply than an idealized narrative.

Motherhood is a prominent theme in your novel. What do you hope to convey about its complexities?

Though I’m not a mother, I explore the struggles many women in my life face with motherhood. Observing their challenges, I discovered a silence surrounding their feelings. I wanted to delve into the tension between their responsibilities to their families and their yearning for personal fulfillment.

I remember my mother occasionally expressing a desire to leave and take a break from overwhelming responsibilities. This stark contrast sparked my curiosity about the internal conflicts mothers experience between duty and individuality.

Loneliness is another key theme, as Charo feels alone in her vibrant community. Can you elaborate on your approach to this theme?

This theme excited me to write. Communities meant to offer belonging can paradoxically make individuals feel unseen or inadequate. When my parents arrived in The Bronx, they found fellow Dominicans. While this network created a sense of belonging, it also imposed expectations that could alienate someone from their desires.

Charo confronts these societal pressures in her neighborhood, as people question her choices. I aimed to depict the complexity of the Dominican village as both a supportive community and a source of expectations that complicate individual identity.

What do you hope readers take away from LOCA?

Primarily, I want readers to engage deeply with the concept of friendship. There are responsibilities we share with each other, especially as people of color and queer individuals. It’s important to recognize that, despite societal challenges, we can choose to show up better for our loved ones.

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Visit our BookShop to preorder a copy of LOCA.

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About the Author: Alejandro Heredia is a writer from the Bronx. He received fellowships from LAMBDA Literary, Dominican Studies Institute, UNLV’s Black Mountain Institute, and others. He holds an MFA in fiction from Hunter College. LOCA is his debut novel.

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Amaris Castillo is a journalist and writer, creator of Bodega Stories, featuring real stories from corner stores. Her journalism has appeared in The New York Times, Lowell Sun, Bradenton Herald, Remezcla, Latina Magazine, and Parents Latina Magazine. Her writing has been featured in La Galería Magazine, Spanglish Voces, PALABRITAS, Dominican Moms be Like..., and has appeared in Quislaona: A Dominican Fantasy Anthology and Sana Sana: Latinx Pain and Radical Visions for Healing and Justice. Her short story, "El Don," was a finalist for the 2022 Elizabeth Nunez Caribbean-American Writers’ Prize by the Brooklyn Caribbean Literary Festival. Amaris lives in Florida with her family. You can follow her work at amariscastillo.com."