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Cristina GarcíaA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Cristina García is a Cuban American novelist and journalist. She was born in Havana to a Cuban mother and a Guatemalan father, and her family was part of the first wave of émigrés to leave Cuba after Fidel Castro’s rise to power. They fled the country in 1961, when she was just two years old, and Cristina grew up in New York City. She earned a bachelor’s degree in political science from Barnard College and a master’s degree in international relations from Johns Hopkins University. She worked as a journalist for many years before writing Dreaming in Cuban, her debut novel. Although all of her fiction is deeply committed to depicting the experiences of the Cuban diaspora in the United States and around the world, García has noted how surprised she was to discover how “Cuban” her writing felt. She had grown up without any particular sense of her Cuban identity, had always considered herself American, and had not “longed” for the Cuba of her parents. When drafting Dreaming in Cuba, she discovered her inner sense of having been exiled from her home culture and realized that she wanted to reconnect with Cuban history and culture.
All of her novels engage with the same themes that are represented in Dreaming in Cuban. The Agüero Sisters (1997) also depicts a family separated by exile and illustrates the difference between Cuban and Cuban American identities, and Monkey Hunting (2003) is a multi-generational family saga that depicts immigration and critiques the failure of communist regimes to provide basic necessities and freedoms to their citizens. A Handbook to Luck (2007) shares with Dreaming in Cuban an interest in the way that immigration and exile impact and alter familial bonds, and it also reflects multiple narrators who weave their stories together over the course of many years of estrangement and alienation. The Lady Matador’s Hotel (2007) also examines the impact of political ideology and corruption on individual lives, and King of Cuba (2013) focuses on the cult of personality surrounding Cuban dictator Fidel Castro. Vanishing Maps (2023) is a sequel to Dreaming in Cuban and traces the lives of its characters through years and across continents.
Although García is not comfortable with the title of dissident and is not as interested in explicit political critique as many other Cuban American authors tend to be, she does not shy away from criticizing the repression, food shortages, political persecution, and surveillance culture that characterize the Castro regime. She is also deeply interested in the ways that political ideology divides families, and Celia’s devotion to the cult of El Líder’s personality contrasts markedly with Felicia’s interest in the pre-communist, Afro-Cuban tradition of Santería and Lourdes’s pro-American ideological orientation. García is also interested in the impact of the Castro regime on migration and movement, and although Dreaming in Cuban tells the story of US-bound exiles, many of her novels examine the complexity of exile in a broader, worldwide setting. In her novels, Cubans move back and forth between their homeland and other locales in Latin America, Europe, and beyond. García ultimately wants her readers to understand that immigration and exile are not part of a monolithic phenomenon, and that the meaning of being Cuban or a Cuban émigré differs across families, decades, and continents.
The history of the Cuban Revolution and its aftermath are more than a backdrop within Dreaming in Cuban; instead, they are deeply woven into the fabric of its narrative, and the impact of these events reverberates through successive generations of Celia’s family. Because she herself is a member of the multiple waves of émigrés that the Cuban Revolution produced, García wants her readers to understand that both communist ideology and the tumultuous revolution that it inspired continue to have real impact on the lives of ordinary Cubans and on members of the Cuban diaspora.
Although the Cuban Revolution took place in 1959 and this novel primarily depicts the years immediately leading up to Castro’s rise to power and the two decades that followed, the seeds for revolution were planted long before. At issue for many Cubans in the years preceding the revolution was the inequality produced by the United States’ involvement in Cuban business, politics, and affairs. The two nation’s histories have long been intertwined, and in 1903, the United States ratified the Platt Amendment, a treaty between it and Cuba that was intended to protect Cuba’s independence from foreign intervention and prevent its takeover by foreign powers. The Platt Amendment legalized extensive US involvement in Cuban affairs both foreign and domestic, and in practice, it solidified the position of American-owned firms and businesses operating on Cuban soil. American investments in Cuba ballooned during the years following the Platt Amendment, and although this involvement was lucrative for the United States, it did not bring widespread economic prosperity to Cuba or its people.
As Celia notices several times during the course of the story, Cuba was rife with inequality during the years leading up to the revolution. She is profoundly affected by the poverty that was especially prevalent in the countryside. The Cuban economy at that time was largely dependent on monocrop agriculture, and in Cuba, sugar was king. In spite of the island’s extensive network of lucrative sugar plantations, the nation remained impoverished because the wealth was concentrated in the hands of a small group of elite planters, many of whom were American. Their sprawling properties churned out massive quantities of sugar, but their profits were funneled out of the country and their workers remained under-resourced and underpaid. The family of Lourdes’s husband Rufino owns one of these large estates, or fincas, as they are known in Cuba, and although Rufino’s family is Cuban, their ties to America run deep. Thus, the swirling rumors that organized criminals are among their professional contacts highlight another endemic societal issue in pre-revolutionary Cuba: the widespread presence of the American Mafia in Cuba. Looking to escape prosecution in the United States, many mobsters, the most famous of whom was Charles “Lucky” Luciano, moved their operations from the East Coast of the United States to Cuba during the years leading up to the revolution. Their casinos became a magnet for American tourists, especially during the years of Prohibition, for alcohol remained legal in Cuba even after the 18th Amendment prohibited the production and sale of alcohol in the United States. These operations were tremendously profitable, but as with the production of sugar, the casinos’ profits were largely sent out of the country. However, the presence of organized crime within Cuba was encouraged by the Cuban government, because although the profits of casinos, alcohol sales, and other illicit enterprises were rarely enjoyed by Cuban workers, those in power did receive a cut of the money that such businesses produced. Although a new democratic constitution had been ratified in Cuba in 1940, the country’s endemic corruption was widely criticized and was seen as an impediment to true democratic progress. As a result, Fulgencio Batista, a military man-turned-politician, seized power in 1952, in part to address that corruption, or so he claimed. In practice, however, Batista was pro-United States and allied with the wealthiest landowners and businessmen in Cuba, and under his leadership, the situation on the island deteriorated instead of improving.
In 1953, a young attorney named Fidel Castro began to use military and political means to attempt to overthrow Batista’s government. Initially concentrated in Cuba’s mountainous countryside, the rebels gradually gained popularity and control. After years of fighting, they achieved a series of military victories and gained an increasingly widespread base of support amongst the Cuban people, and they were finally able to oust Batista on January 1, 1959. Castro then took control of the government in Havana and began to implement a series of socialist reforms, including the nationalization of private properties and businesses. This aspect of history is invoked within the narrative of Dreaming in Cuban when the government seizes Rufino’s family finca. Although Castro ensured that everyone in the country would have free access to medicine and education, he also consolidated his political power, violently suppressed dissidence, and ended the freedom of the press. Just like García’s real-life family, Lourdes, Rufino, and Pilar are part of the first wave of political exiles from Cuba.
However, after that initial wave, Castro tightly clamped down on emigration, and until a group of would-be exiles stormed the Peruvian embassy in 1980 and demanded permission to leave, it was very difficult for anyone to escape Cuba. This event, which is dramatized in the last few chapters of Dreaming in Cuban, would earn moniker of the Mariel Boatlift. It involved the massive departure of Cubans via planes and small, chartered boats that were often captained by Americans operating out of Miami and the Florida Keys. Many people were driven to leave Cuba at this time because of widespread food shortages, the pervasiveness of the Castro’s surveillance state, and the brutality with which he treated political dissidents. During the Mariel Boatlift, many Cuban émigrés in the United States paid for their family members to join them, and the United States government adjusted their immigration quotas accordingly. In the context of the novel, Lourdes ensures that young Ivanito will be among those allowed to leave. In choosing to begin her narrative with Castro’s rise to power and end it with the storming of the Peruvian embassy, García brackets her text with two of the largest emigration events in Cuba’s history: the Cuban Revolution itself, and the Mariel Boatlift.
The version of Cuba depicted in Dreaming in Cuban is a space of religious hybridity, for multiple traditions collide in a blended, overlapping manner. Although Indigenous religious traditions were present in Cuba and the rest of the Caribbean islands long before colonization, European colonists were the first to bring Catholicism to Cuba. Catholicism became an integral part of the colonial project, and the religious conversion of the Indigenous population became a manifestation of “soft power,” or the use of assimilationist policies rather than violence or forced coercion. Through the work of missionaries and the establishment of missions and churches, Spain introduced its own religion to Cuba’s Indigenous Taínos. Once converted, the local populations were easier to control. Even so, Catholicism in Cuba grew and changed to take on a particularly Cuban flare, most noticeably through the legend of La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre, or the “Virgin of Charity.” According to tradition, two Indigenous brothers and a young enslaved boy found a small statuette of the Virgin Mary floating in the waters off the eastern coast of Cuba. They brought the figure to land, and she was eventually installed in a small chapel in the mining village of El Cobre. Rumored to perform miracles and to possess the ability to move on her own, La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre soon became the patron saint of Cuba. She and her story are known to all Cubans, both those born at home and those in the diaspora, and her inclusion in this narrative is a cultural touchstone to Cuban readers in particular. El Cobre lies in the mountainous region in eastern Cuba that would one day come to serve as a hiding place for Fidel Castro and his army. It was once an important mining center, and it ultimately became a community of successful, formerly enslaved men and women. That the history of Cuba’s patron saint is so bound up with both Indigenous and African identity is a testament to Cuba’s own multi-racial history, and by including La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre in Dreaming in Cuban, García reminds her readers that the religion of the colonizer, although itself a manifestation of soft power, does not survive colonization untouched by the beliefs of the colonized.
Another aspect of pre-colonial religious tradition with which García engages in Dreaming in Cuban is that of Santería. The practice of Santería was born at the intersection of Yoruba, a west African religion brought to Cuba by enslaved men and women, and Catholicism. Santería borrows many of the Yoruban Orishas, or deities, and it is believed that each person has a connection to a particular Orisha. In this text in particular, García emphasizes Felicia and Herminia’s connections to Yemayá, a goddess associated with divine motherhood and the sea, and Pilar’s connection to Chángo, a god associated with fire, lightning, and thunder.
Within the context of Santería, Yemayá is the great mother. She is an important Orisha for women in particular, but in addition to her association with femininity and motherhood, Yemayá is a goddess of the seas. Although she is wise and virtuous, Yemayá is said to give out fierce punishment and is willing to go to war on behalf of her children. Yemayá’s children, which, as García suggests, include Herminia and Felicia, are said to be strong-willed, independent women who forge their own paths. Chángo, Pilar’s Orisha, is a god of thunder, lighting, fire, and war. However, he is also the patron of music, drumming, and dancing. He is often associated with Santa Barbara, one of the other saints invoked in Dreaming in Cuban, and their association is often cited as evidence that women and men alike can harness Chángo’s power.
Communism is fundamentally anti-religious, although Dreaming in Cuban shows how difficult it has historically been to impose national atheism on cultures with longstanding religious traditions. Although Celia is dedicated to communist ideology and government and is an avowed atheist, even she has not entirely been able to leave all religious traditions and superstitions behind, and she keeps her children inside on Chángo’s feast day. Religion is therefore a key motif within this narrative, and although García does accurately portray the atheism of all communist regimes and Castro’s in particular, her decision to incorporate the various religious rites, ceremonies, doctrines, and figures of Cuban culture allows her to illustrate the religious hybridity that characterizes the island to this day.