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248 pages, Paperback
First published May 26, 1998
Naty’s passion for Fidel brackets her period of revolutionary fervor, when she believed that everything was possible. Their letters reveal the contours of a liaison between two brave and formidable, if misguided, people in their late twenties: a political prisoner and a restless young woman. Enamored of Naty, Fidel remained connected to her until the fever passed; then he wanted nothing more to do with her. But Naty, who thought she had given her heart, refused to be discarded; she would live frozen in that moment of time, the moment in which Fidel had loved her.
. . .
Fidel Castro knew how to make love to a woman without ever touching her. Naty Revuelta was a beauty, but Fidel didn’t have to tell her so; that was for the men who flirted with her at the Vedalo Tennis Club. Instead, he courted her with his intelligence – and his convictions. Fidel made her feel that he relished her lively mind, doted on her intuitive sensibilities. He never mentioned her fabulous green eyes.
Fidel’s desire to dominate a young woman would eventually replace his impulse to visit with a little girl. It wasn’t Alina’s character that would make Fidel want to bend her to his will, but his own narcissism, his own grandiose imagining of himself – the vanity, the power, the glory, the exalted sense of himself as a redeemer. Alina was a minor player in the pageant of egotism.
From Havana to Miami – in fact, all across Cuba and the United States – the stories multiply of families separated from each other by a stretch of water that governments have made treacherous. It’s hard to conceive of political ideologies so brilliant, so radiant that they’re worth all the human suffering they’ve created. And what has been achieved? It’s probable that the real legacy of the Cuban Revolution is little more than estrangement, brutality, self-delusion, and the pain of exile.
