“The book American Gods wishes it was.” --Despina Durand

Friday, March 27, 2020


It's all about mythology in Chicanonautica, over at La Bloga:

You know mythology:

But this time it's Mesoamerican:

Thanks to David Bowles:

And who knows where that could lead:

Monday, March 16, 2020


Almost thirty years after Tor didn't send out review copies for some mysterious reason, High Aztech is still getting rave reviews.

So, ticmotraspasarhuililis, cabrones!

This latest one is in The Nameless Zine written by Hal C F Astell. It's a good one, which for my purposes means there's material I can quote in my never-ending battle to promote the book.

Just check these gems out:

". . . I've never read anything quite like 'High Aztech' before!"

". . .This is paranoid gonzo cyberpunk, an amalgam of Hunter S. Thompson and Philip K. Dick, but phrased from a completely different ethnic background, which has led to Hogan being described as 'the father of Chicano science fiction'."

". . . gets weird, and Hogan is blissfully happy to make it as weird as he can."

"I adored this. It's not the most polished book I've ever read and it breaks most of the rules of fiction, but it's wild and weird and wonderful and I'm happy with that. It's also fiercely original, doing things that I've never seen done before between the pages of a book."

Besides, it's probably a good time to read a wacko book about viruses deconstructing civilization . . .

Friday, March 13, 2020


Chicanonautica, at La Bloga, review Yellow Hair and the Fortress of Gold.

It's a weird old western:

With a half-breed hero:

With an interesting geopolitical context:

Or is just something to amuse the kiddies?

Thursday, March 5, 2020


So, here we are in the sci-fi-esque (at least to an old boomer like me) year 2020. My front yard looks like another planet. But then that's business as usual at Hacienda Hogan

Like glowing flowers and blue jack-o-lanterns.

Haven't done much travel. I did get out to a local auto show.

In the casa, Aztec demons still watch over us from my old artwork.

We acquired a new mask.

Mexican comic books can still be found on the shelves of a Phoenix library.

Another story of mine is in print.

And the future is showing up in parking lots.

Friday, February 28, 2020


It's chingaderas at Chicanonautica at La Bloga.

Like Trumptopia:



"And if he's still hungry, the whole country's doomed."

Saturday, February 15, 2020


Saturday, February 15, 2020, 12:00 AM PST and ending Wednesday, February 19, 2020, 11:59 PM PST, you will be able to get the Kindle version of Unfit Magazine Vol.3 FREE!

It includes my story, “PeaceCon,” a zany romp about mind control and social unrest starring my cyberpunk masked luchador, Steelsnake.

There are also has stories by Orson Scott Card, Robert J. Sawyer, Eric Del Carlo, David R. Grigg, Nathan Susnik, and John Koch.

What are you waiting for?

Friday, February 14, 2020


Chicanonautica chimes in on the American Dirt pendejada.

It's making news:

And getting dirty:

And political:

But that's the book biz:

Thursday, February 6, 2020


Took Highway 191, the Navajo Code Talkers Highway, to Twin Rocks. Just had to stay at the Kokopelli Inn, in Bluff, Utah, and have Navajo tacos at the Twin Rocks Cafe. The family seated across from us had soup, stew and chile that they scooped up with fry bread. Most of the customers and employees were Navajo.

Bluff is quite the Diné (what the Navajo call themselves) town.

The Southeast corner of Utah is more Navajo than Mormon.

The Kokopelli Inn is run by Navajo women. The young woman who checked up in told us about the Bluff Arts Festival, that was going on that weekend, and gave me brochure.

There was a DVD on sale in the lobby: Skinwalkers: Witches of Navajo Country. I bought a copy. A server at Twin Rocks Cafe had a Navajo Wolfman T-shirt, based on a local petroglyph. A few decades ago skinwalkers were a taboo subject, and it was even hard to get people to talk about them. This is another century, a new world.

The next morning it was 30 degrees in Bluff. Being from Phoenix, it was so long since we’d been cold, it felt good.

We headed home through Monument Valley. The wide-open spaces of the big rez became Daliesque vistas where a woman pulled a rickshaw down an endless highway . . . Hopi . . . the Painted Desert . . . abandoned structures along the roads, the new ruins decorated with fresh murals . . .

In a week we had visited so many different landscapes, different environments, different worlds . . . I wondered what world we were coming back to.

Friday, January 31, 2020


Chicanonautica links to a piece wrote for the blog of the publisher of American Monsters Part Two, over at La Bloga.

It's about weird, wonderful Aztlán:

And the weird creatures that live there:

And they're really weird:

And my story is also about a sexy luchadora:

Thursday, January 23, 2020


After an all-American breakfast at Rustler’s Restaurant, we took off for Escalante where a dinosaur skull, cowboy and Indian stuff, and even a picture of Trump was on display.

Then we went down Highway 12. Wow!

Otherworldly, even for Utah. More Martian than Mars, at least to science fiction imaginations.

Capitol Reef National Park was incredible. The Grand Wash is a grand hike. Also it was a twisty, but more or less a straight line, so we couldn’t get lost. We were blown away and we had only seen part of this erosion-sculpture wonderland.

We stood at the Capitol Reef Inn & Cafe again. Their mural had been touched up since we were last there. I took photos. They also added cool jazz to the mix of mostly New Age music they played in the cafe.

It was more New Age-y, like Sedona, only without the plastic commercialism, not as Mormon as other parts of Utah. “Signs of woo-woo are creeping in there,” Emily commented.

They had an interesting take on huevos rancheros.

Onto Route 95, we headed toward Natural Bridges National Monument. Cherchez le funk! Greedheads be damned! Look at those fantastic rocks!

I got an idea for a song: “Smashed Bugs on the Windshield” to the tune of “Red Sails in the Sunset.”

I mentioned Mars, Emily told me that the creation of a magnetic field would be an important factor in humans trying to live here. Earth’s magnetic field makes it livable. Mars may be too small.

I made note of all for my Paco Cohen, Mariachi of Mars novel.

These are the sort of ideas that come up while passing through this landscape. Psychedelic geology. It would probably be a great place to drop acid, though hallucinations would be redundant. I wouldn’t be surprised if eventually we saw ayahuasca or datura (it grows all over) retreats open up.

Note for Zyx; Or, Bring Me the Brain of Victor Theremin: Have the founder of the tech company Zapoid hiding out at such a retreat.

And then, there it was: Hanksville, and Carl’s Critter Garden with its incredible metal art. We stopped and took a lot of pictures, and put money in the donation box. We also met the guys who own the place. Carl the sculptor died over forty years ago, which explains all the Sixties countercultural references.

Everything had been touched up recently. Good to know that this old-fashioned roadside attraction has a future.

Paco Cohen needs to run into a similar place on Mars. Roadside Attractions of Mars . . . a great title.

There I go, scifi-izing again.

Beyond the Hog Spring Recreation Area, and the Dirty Devil River, at the Natural Bridge National Monument, cryptobiotic soil looked like miniature alien cities.

The fantastic is all over the place here, radiating from deep in the Earth.