When rock and roll was transforming American culture in the 1950s and ’60s, East Harlem pulsed with the sounds of mambo and merengue. Instead of Elvis and the Beatles, Marta Moreno Vega grew up worshipping Celia Cruz, Mario Bauza, and Arsenio Rodriguez. Their music could be heard on every radio in El Barrio and from the main stage at the legendary Palladium, where every weekend working-class kids dressed in their sharpest suits and highest heels and became mambo kings and queens. Spanish Harlem was a vibrant and dynamic world, but it was also a place of constant change, where the traditions of Puerto Rican parents clashed with their children’s American ideals.
A precocious little girl with wildly curly hair, Marta was the baby of the family and the favorite of her elderly abuela, who lived in the apartment down the hall. Abuela Luisa was the spiritual center of the family, an espiritista who smoked cigars and honored the Afro-Caribbean deities who had always protected their family. But it was Marta’s brother, Chachito, who taught her the latest dance steps and called her from the pay phone at the Palladium at night so she could listen, huddled beneath the bedcovers, to the seductive rhythms of Tito Puente and his orchestra.
In this luminous and lively memoir, Marta Moreno Vega calls forth the spirit of Puerto Rican New York and the music, mysticism, and traditions of a remarkable and quintessentially American childhood.
“Viva Marta Moreno Vega! With honesty, humor, and love, she relives her coming-of-age in Spanish Harlem—the highs and the lows—eloquently documenting how deeply rooted West African cultural traditions are in her rich Puerto Rican heritage. Marta Vega’s memoir makes me want to mambo.” —Susan Taylor, editorial director of Essence and author of Lessons in Living
I drew a few parallels in the way the author experienced adolescence and the blending of multiple cultures. Overall, I quite enjoyed reading en Español and experiencing the spiritual practices that were fundamental in the Puerto Rican culture, and I’d recommend this easy read to anyone looking for some history in an insightful first person narrative.
Puerto/nuyo rican nonsense. At first I thought it was gonna be a portrait of Moreno Vega's relationship with her grandmother, a celebrated espiritista in her community, but it just ended up being a sort of diasporic mumbo jumbo with Afro-Cuban religious elements peppered in to embellish an otherwise pretty average coming of age nuyorican narrative. While I do not doubt that Marta's grandmother had that spiritual grace, I do question the authenticity of Marta's portrayal of her grandmother's connection to the orichas, as most mentions of the orichas seemed arbitrary and out of context. You need not be an olosha to be an espiritista, and so I am left to conclude that the inclusion of the orichas in the narrative is propaganda to push the agenda that Afro-Boricua culture is in religious and traditional conversation with Afro-Cuba, which it simply is not. And that is okay.
This said I did find the depiction of El Barrio throughout the years really interesting--and in this way feel like When the Spirits Dance Mambo is great archival material.
An entertaining and insightful story about growing up Afro-Puerto Rican in NYC. The author takes the reader from her childhood through teen years, sharing stories that highlight the difficulties of being different in a white - Eurocentric world, and of being of dark pigmentation but different from the Black American culture too. I love how this story challenges the simplistic view that the only thing that matters in America is what your skin color is. This story adds food, music, and dance, to the mix. It is the culture many immigrants bring to the USA that sets them apart from the multi-generational citizens of the USA - not their skin color. You are black but you dance the mambo. You feel free to go to whatever beach everyone else goes but you bring an entire kitchen to make a Puerto Rican feast. The pain of the story is in the narrator's experience in trying to be the bridge between the old and the new. The world her Abuela grew up in versus the foreign world she is growing up in. This book is a great addition to the telling of American stories.
After the last Hispanic lit book I just read, I couldn't help thinking about how bad it was and how great this one is. When The Spirits Dance Mambo is a memoir of a girl growing up in 1950's-60's Spanish Harlem with her family and a "espiritista" grandma who lives in another apartment in the same building. It really gives you a feel for the great age of "El Barrio" and its eventual demise. If you are Hispanic it will have you laughing and crying as you see people that may resemble those you knew growing up whether it be family, friends or people in the neighborhood. One of the first books I bought when I got my nook.
Vibrant. Lively. I loved reading about Marta's life in El Barrio and the wonderful culture of the people she grew up around. Growing up in an Afro-latino community, I thought she depicted life being surrounded by several influences and characters vivaciously. Pretty dope that she also inserted excerpts about Yoruba // Santeria traditions that she was influenced by in her upbringing.
This is a great book. In reading it you really gain a sense of intimacy with the characters and become emotionally involved with their triumphs and struggles. Its a very engaging read and helps you relate to people who are from another culture and yet live so close to us.
Marta Moreno Vega takes us on a tour of el barrio in Spanish Harlem during the 1950s. She shares with us events from her childhood/formative years to better explain the intersections of culture, race, and spirituality. A wonderful, wonderful read.
This book was very interesting. The reason why I read this book was because the author came to our school in 9th grade and signed books for us. Recommended to teens.
Great personal testimony of growing up in El Barrio as an Afro-Latina female. Strong cultural connections & a narrative which portrays the problems of discrimination and machismo.