Ramón Eduardo Ruiz Urueta, a Mexicanist historian, writes in his memoir of how the “hyphenated man is an alienated man: peace of mind is a mirage because his peculiar cultural perspective is out of step with sundry patriots, and, yes, historians” (p. 221). If Ruiz’s position as an American of Mexican ancestry precluded a certain kind of peace of mind, nevertheless it proved a source of personal strength and informed his scholarship in a positive way. This theme recurs throughout his autobiography, even shaping his story: that of a Mexican American raised near San Diego, coming of age there in the 1930s, participating in WWII as a young man, already deciding to study, teach, and write history. As he reflected in the epilogue, “Sitting astride two horses that pull in opposite directions . . . has made me a better scholar. . . . Filling in gaps and cracks in...

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