I decided to kick of Hispanic Heritage Month a tad early this year. I have a stellar lineup planned and am excited to dive into my reading. It is also getting close to my busiest time of the year so I have to pace myself and then some. Over the summer I went through a good six week stretch where I did not pick up a fiction book other than mysteries. I have always been a primarily nonfiction reader and am extremely picky when it comes to fiction. I realize that the majority of readers are the other way around, but that is just how I am; I do have some quality fiction planned for the end of the year but I am such a seasonal reader that they will have to wait. Earlier this year, I read The Poet X because the author Liz Acevedo happens to be a writing protégé of Julia Alvarez, one of my favorite authors. The writing reminded me much of Alvarez but is distinctly the author’s own voice and characterization that I knew that I needed to read more of her. Then I got into my nonfiction zone. Welcome Hispanic Heritage Month where I attempt to read about Latinx people from all walks of life, and all genres, too, if possible. A family saga featuring the Latinx magical realism that I love would be a perfect segue back into the world of fiction writing.
Flor Marte can predict the death of people through her dreams. For those readers who watched and loved Encanto, the women in the Marte family receive gifts in a similar manner. Flor predicts death, her sister Pastora can read peoples’ thoughts, another sister Camila concocts herbal remedies, and the eldest sister Matilde is a peace keeper. No, these sisters do not walk through a door amid colors and music to receive their gift; these just happen, and I admittedly prefer the adult version to the Disney one. One day, Flor predicts her own death. After viewing a documentary about a living wake, she decides to hold one as a means of celebrating her life, inviting all of her extended family and friends to what should prove to be the party of the year. Her sisters, daughter, and niece are on board, but are skeptical. Yes, all of them, the daughter and niece included, have their own gift, but would Flor really predict when she was going to die. And, if she was actually predated her own death, why would she draw attention to it, putting all members of the family going through their own crises on edge. Yet, Flor is convinced that she will die on x and x date and she desires to see loved ones before it happens. With a Dominican flair for the dramatic, she reserves the Grand Concourse Armory, gets her daughter to buy her the perfect dress and her niece to cook up the most memorable meal of the year, and the preparations for the party are in full gear. Of course, the sisters are still skeptical.
Like Alvarez in her now new classic Garcia Girls and ¡Yo!, the Marte family features four sisters from the DR who immigrated to New York. This is where Acevedo’s story differs from her mentor’s. The story of the Garcias is autobiographical fiction, to the point where Alvarez had a falling out with her mother for writing about the family in her books. Acevedo was born in the United States and spoke both English and Spanish at home. Ironically, it is Acevedo who feels more comfortable inserting Spanish dialogue into her books without translation, but I feel that a quarter of the way into the 21st century, Spanish is more widely accepted than it had been when Alvarez wrote. The Garcias came to New York in the 1960s. Other than a few Nuyoriqueños and exposure through West Side Story, the average white New Yorker had had no contact with Hispanic peoples at the time. The Marte sisters immigrated to New York one by one as adults in the 1990s, all married and some with children. By then, the influx of people from the Caribbean had been normalized. Yes, one could achieve more by learning English. Yes, discrimation still sadly existed; however, New York was now home to people from all over the world. The Marte sisters stuck to themselves. They preferred conversing in Spanish to English and maintained the sibling rivalries from their youth. And Flor and Pastora continued to utilize the gifts from their childhood to stay one step ahead of the fray that was everyday life.
The focal point of the novel is Flor Marte, but the narrator is her daughter Ona, short for Anacaona. Ona is a sociology professor who is in between jobs and has decided to interview all the female members of her family in an attempt to publish a family history to bring light to the Dominican American experience. Readers discover that Matilde, the eldest sister, could not have children, but perhaps it is because her husband has always been a womanizer. One might never know. She is always a top notch ballroom dancer, and I thought of the soundtrack to Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love as I read her sections, a reminder to myself to read the sequel. While I enjoyed the squabbles between the four septuagenarian sisters, I preferred the sections about Ona and her cousin Yadira, who are in my age bracket. Both were born in the DR and came to New York as young children and learned English and street talk in a way that their mothers could not. Ona went all the way up the educational ladder and earned a PhD in sociology. Her family gift is X-rated but because it is the 21st century, Acevedo writes about it was no qualms and vivid language. Yadi is the most 21st century character in this novel. She is a vegan who has dreams of opening her own restaurant and utilizes her gift of being sensitive to citrusy smells to cook with pan ethnic fusion. Her family admits that jackfruit and tempeh actually taste like chicken. Yadi and Ona are often the family translators. They set up family chats on WhatsApp for their mothers and aunts and teach them how to navigate 21st century technology. Their mothers are ahead of my parents who refuse to use it. The plot, although full of magical realism, is pretty much straight forward leading up to Flor’s living wake. Ona and Yadi and their relationships with significant others provide color to give the novel depth. Without them, I would have grown tired of hearing the older Marte sisters squabble, so thankfully the chapters moved back and forth between all the points of view and I read quickly to return to Ona and Yadi and how their lives resolved.
With Hispanic Heritage Month due to officially begin next week, I am glad that I dove in with an early book. I appreciated Acevedo making a foray into adult literature. She generally writes for a young adult audience, and with time, I believe that her work will contain more depth. I hope she has many more stories in her because Alvarez is toward the end of her own writing career, and, even now, there are not many Latinx authors who I consider upper echelon writers. Perhaps it is the language barrier; yet, Acevedo is confident enough in her writing to insert Spanish phrases sans translation. Hopefully this is the new normal because I admit that Spanish is a much more colorful language than English. The language and flair is why I have studied the language for most of my life and married into the Hispanic population. It is why I choose to read for Hispanic Heritage Month, that sadly takes a back seat to African American History month in terms of advertising and encouraging readers to branch out and select books by Latinx authors. This is why veteran authors like Julia Alvarez have taken on mentees like Liz Acevedo to continue the chain moving forward. The Martes are not the Garcias, but one could say that they are their natural successors after being in this country for an extra generation. I look forward to Acevedo writes next after blooming under Alvarez’ tutelage.
3.75 stars