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The Red of His Shadow
An intricately woven tapestry of love, hate, and death follows the vibrant Holy Week festival where passion blossoms between Mistress Zule, a voudou priestess and spiritual leader, and the notorious Simila Bolosse, a rival priest who has the support of the brutal tontons macoutes. Reader's Guide available. Reprint.
176 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1993
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184 people want to read
About the author
Mayra Montero
24 books46 followersWell-known Cuban-Puerto Rican author and columnist.
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
December 12, 2023
Frankly, I have read it as a kind of an anthropology book of religious communities in Haiti. I was more invested in religious rituals than the main character.
June 3, 2012
The description of the Voodoo belief system of the Haitian migrant workers was intriguing. The plot itself is a simple story of human emotions working towards a tragic conflict, but the ending was a little abrupt and unsatisfying.
June 8, 2018
This is a dark, magic realist novel concerning the approaching war between Zule Luc, voudun mambo and leader of a Gaga in Colonie Engracia, and Simile Bolosse, formerly bokor for the leader of Haiti, and currently a drug trafficker in league with what is left of the Haitian tonton macoute. That may not make much sense in summary, but Montero deftly explains her terms and introduces the reader to the life of Haitian workers in the Dominican Republic. The novel follows the personal story of Zule’s life, but in the telling expands, indicating the life lead by the Haitian workers in an almost Steinbeck-like way, then returns to round off Zule’s story. A nifty feat in less than 150 pages (hardcover).
January 10, 2021
Loved this book. Wanted more details on the Voudou aspects, but still I was transported to another place and time and loved the book.
March 29, 2017
Vodoun, the syncretic religion of the Caribbean island of Hispaniola, comprising Haiti in the west and Dominican Republic in the east, is seldom accurately represented in fiction, subject as it has been for centuries to white mistrust of black theology, and in recent times to B-grade horror movie renderings of zombies.
Even Harvard scientist Wade Davis’ excellent 1985 book The Serpent and the Rainbow – a unique investigation into the real psycho-pharmacological bases of zombiesm, combined with a history of the rebel black republic of Haiti after its successful slave revolution of 1804, and a detailed explanation of how vodoun developed as an underground slave exaltation of West and Central African religions under the guise of their overlords’ Catholicism – was turned into a cheap Wes Craven thriller in 1988.
An unsurpassed exploration of the roots of rock ‘n roll via Haiti, where the faiths of African and Irish slaves combined to form vodoun and shape modern American culture, is the 1985 essay by Texan writer Michael Ventura, Hear That Long Snake Moan, which is available online. But Davis and Ventura offer rare English-language non-fiction insights into vodoun, so it was perhaps inevitable that an accurate depiction in fiction would be penned by a Cuban writer, in Spanish.
With a light touch, but penetrating empathy, Mayra Montero explores the mutual antagonisms, racism and interwoven cultures of pitch-black migrant Haitian “Congo” cane-cutters working for a pittance in a coffee-coloured Dominican mulatto world. Bucking traditional prejudices and a rain of curses from her family, the clairvoyant Dominican Anacaona marries the Haitian cane-cutter Jean-Claude Revé, brother to the vodoun houngan Papa Luc Revé, whose shy but willful daughter Zulé, possessed of a natural susceptibility to be ridden by the Loa, those ancient African gods, is destined from a young age to become the mambo of her own vodoun Societé.
Every year during Holy Week, Zulé’s Societé prepares itself with incantations, appeals to the Loa for protection and profit, dresses in its finest, beats its ritual drums, and, lead by its elders and queens, sets out from the batey, the worker’s barracks near the sugar mill, on a sacred procession, a Gagá, through the countryside, during which time they will exchange gifts of rum, cigars, cakes and fowl with the batey communities and Societés they encounter, while the mambos and houngans dispense advice and intercede with the spirit world.
It is usually a time of great celebration, but this year everyone is on edge because they know Zulé’s Gagá is destined to cross paths – and machetes – with the rival Gagá of the Haitian houngan Similá Bolosse, feared as a bokor, a master of the dark arts, not least for his connections to the disgraced yet still dangerous tonton macoute death-squads of ousted Haitian president Papa Doc Duvalier, and their drug shipments, the loss of one of which is blamed on Zulé.
Montero’s lush and livid prose is brought to us by the skilled translation of Edith Grossman, who has also made Latin American greats like Gabriel García Márquez accessible to English readers. Peppering her text with vodoun chants and slave songs in Haitian Creole, Montero draws us into the realities of the cane-cutter’s physical poverty and spiritual abundance.
With language as plain as cassava yet as firey as rum, she spins a tale – apparently inspired by a real crime of passion – which for all its grittiness has the lyrical, doomed beauty of many of Latin America’s great voices; definitely a talent to watch.
Even Harvard scientist Wade Davis’ excellent 1985 book The Serpent and the Rainbow – a unique investigation into the real psycho-pharmacological bases of zombiesm, combined with a history of the rebel black republic of Haiti after its successful slave revolution of 1804, and a detailed explanation of how vodoun developed as an underground slave exaltation of West and Central African religions under the guise of their overlords’ Catholicism – was turned into a cheap Wes Craven thriller in 1988.
An unsurpassed exploration of the roots of rock ‘n roll via Haiti, where the faiths of African and Irish slaves combined to form vodoun and shape modern American culture, is the 1985 essay by Texan writer Michael Ventura, Hear That Long Snake Moan, which is available online. But Davis and Ventura offer rare English-language non-fiction insights into vodoun, so it was perhaps inevitable that an accurate depiction in fiction would be penned by a Cuban writer, in Spanish.
With a light touch, but penetrating empathy, Mayra Montero explores the mutual antagonisms, racism and interwoven cultures of pitch-black migrant Haitian “Congo” cane-cutters working for a pittance in a coffee-coloured Dominican mulatto world. Bucking traditional prejudices and a rain of curses from her family, the clairvoyant Dominican Anacaona marries the Haitian cane-cutter Jean-Claude Revé, brother to the vodoun houngan Papa Luc Revé, whose shy but willful daughter Zulé, possessed of a natural susceptibility to be ridden by the Loa, those ancient African gods, is destined from a young age to become the mambo of her own vodoun Societé.
Every year during Holy Week, Zulé’s Societé prepares itself with incantations, appeals to the Loa for protection and profit, dresses in its finest, beats its ritual drums, and, lead by its elders and queens, sets out from the batey, the worker’s barracks near the sugar mill, on a sacred procession, a Gagá, through the countryside, during which time they will exchange gifts of rum, cigars, cakes and fowl with the batey communities and Societés they encounter, while the mambos and houngans dispense advice and intercede with the spirit world.
It is usually a time of great celebration, but this year everyone is on edge because they know Zulé’s Gagá is destined to cross paths – and machetes – with the rival Gagá of the Haitian houngan Similá Bolosse, feared as a bokor, a master of the dark arts, not least for his connections to the disgraced yet still dangerous tonton macoute death-squads of ousted Haitian president Papa Doc Duvalier, and their drug shipments, the loss of one of which is blamed on Zulé.
Montero’s lush and livid prose is brought to us by the skilled translation of Edith Grossman, who has also made Latin American greats like Gabriel García Márquez accessible to English readers. Peppering her text with vodoun chants and slave songs in Haitian Creole, Montero draws us into the realities of the cane-cutter’s physical poverty and spiritual abundance.
With language as plain as cassava yet as firey as rum, she spins a tale – apparently inspired by a real crime of passion – which for all its grittiness has the lyrical, doomed beauty of many of Latin America’s great voices; definitely a talent to watch.
April 14, 2009
I'm finishing this book when I should have a rest as I'm catching a flu, but I couldn't fall asleep though I've taken medicines. And so I finished it. With a rage.
Alright this is my first Haitian/Dominican literarure, with their passions, their beliefs, and especially theirlusts.
True the poverty and human exploitation pushed them to cling only to their religious belief, especially around the Holly Week.
And yes this story is based on real events.
But still I couldn't stop my rage.
Montero begins her story clearly, religous fierce rivalry between a Houngan (Voudon male priest) named Similá Bollose against Mistress Zulé, a famous Voudon priestess. The story develops around these two leaders, their encounters, their sexual lusts, and their pride.
I've realised that at the end they'll have to face one another and there will be blood. Oh yes there were blood. This is it. This is when my rage is bursted. why Montero has to kill Mistress Zulé? Just because she's a woman who's in love and so she's died because of that love?
This reminds me to a good friend [his ex recently got married to one of his friend:] to his defence quoted, "If Juliet and Romeo still alive, their story won't live up until today. We need a tragedy, Mia!" Maybe he's right, but still I don't like it when Montero kills Mistress Zulé .. nah uh.
***
Buku ini membuatku marah
Memang ini buku literatur tentang budaya Haiti/Rep. Dominika pertama yang aku baca. Buku yang dari sisi budaya menarik karena aku sedikit tahu tentang kepercayaan lokal mereka, semangat yang mereka miliki dan juga hasrat antara pria dan wanitanya yang diceritakan dengan gamblang.
Oke karena eksploitasi manusia di perkebunan tebu serta kemiskinan yang melanda mereka, satu-satunya pelarian adalah acara keagamaan yang rutin dilakukan di Minggu Paskah.
Dan ya buku ini ditulis berdasarkan kejadian yang benar-benar terjadi di sana. Tapi tetap saja buku ini membuatku marah.
Kisahnya dibangun di sekitar dua pemimpin agama yang berseteru, bersaing untuk menentukan siapa di antara mereka yang terkuat. Mistress Zulé adalah pendeta perempuan yang sangat terkenal, sementara Similá Bollose adalah pendeta laki-laki yang melakukan apa saja untuk menjadi kuat. Cerita menjadi menarik karena persaingan ini diceritakan dengan indah sejak pertemuan keduanya, hasrat seksual antara keduanya, dan terutama harga diri masing-masing.
Sejak awal aku sudah menyadari toh pada akhirnya mereka harus saling berhadapan dan pasti akan ada pertumpahan darah. Dan saat itulah kemarahanku memuncak. Kenapa Montero membunuh Mistress Zulé? Apa karena dia perempuan yang sedang jatuh cinta jadi dia mati karena cinta itu?
Ini mengingatkanku dengan ucapan seorang teman [mantan pacarnya baru-baru ini menikah dengan salah satu temannya:] yang demi menghibur dirinya sendiri berkata, "Bayangkan jika Juliet dan Romeo tidak mati dan masih hidup, kisah mereka tidak akan bertahan hingga saat ini. Kita membutuhkan tragedi dalam hidup kita Mia!" Mungkin teman ini benar, tapi tetap saja aku marah karena Montero membunuh Mistress Zulé bukan Similá Bollose!
Alright this is my first Haitian/Dominican literarure, with their passions, their beliefs, and especially theirlusts.
True the poverty and human exploitation pushed them to cling only to their religious belief, especially around the Holly Week.
And yes this story is based on real events.
But still I couldn't stop my rage.
Montero begins her story clearly, religous fierce rivalry between a Houngan (Voudon male priest) named Similá Bollose against Mistress Zulé, a famous Voudon priestess. The story develops around these two leaders, their encounters, their sexual lusts, and their pride.
I've realised that at the end they'll have to face one another and there will be blood. Oh yes there were blood. This is it. This is when my rage is bursted. why Montero has to kill Mistress Zulé? Just because she's a woman who's in love and so she's died because of that love?
This reminds me to a good friend [his ex recently got married to one of his friend:] to his defence quoted, "If Juliet and Romeo still alive, their story won't live up until today. We need a tragedy, Mia!" Maybe he's right, but still I don't like it when Montero kills Mistress Zulé .. nah uh.
***
Buku ini membuatku marah
Memang ini buku literatur tentang budaya Haiti/Rep. Dominika pertama yang aku baca. Buku yang dari sisi budaya menarik karena aku sedikit tahu tentang kepercayaan lokal mereka, semangat yang mereka miliki dan juga hasrat antara pria dan wanitanya yang diceritakan dengan gamblang.
Oke karena eksploitasi manusia di perkebunan tebu serta kemiskinan yang melanda mereka, satu-satunya pelarian adalah acara keagamaan yang rutin dilakukan di Minggu Paskah.
Dan ya buku ini ditulis berdasarkan kejadian yang benar-benar terjadi di sana. Tapi tetap saja buku ini membuatku marah.
Kisahnya dibangun di sekitar dua pemimpin agama yang berseteru, bersaing untuk menentukan siapa di antara mereka yang terkuat. Mistress Zulé adalah pendeta perempuan yang sangat terkenal, sementara Similá Bollose adalah pendeta laki-laki yang melakukan apa saja untuk menjadi kuat. Cerita menjadi menarik karena persaingan ini diceritakan dengan indah sejak pertemuan keduanya, hasrat seksual antara keduanya, dan terutama harga diri masing-masing.
Sejak awal aku sudah menyadari toh pada akhirnya mereka harus saling berhadapan dan pasti akan ada pertumpahan darah. Dan saat itulah kemarahanku memuncak. Kenapa Montero membunuh Mistress Zulé? Apa karena dia perempuan yang sedang jatuh cinta jadi dia mati karena cinta itu?
Ini mengingatkanku dengan ucapan seorang teman [mantan pacarnya baru-baru ini menikah dengan salah satu temannya:] yang demi menghibur dirinya sendiri berkata, "Bayangkan jika Juliet dan Romeo tidak mati dan masih hidup, kisah mereka tidak akan bertahan hingga saat ini. Kita membutuhkan tragedi dalam hidup kita Mia!" Mungkin teman ini benar, tapi tetap saja aku marah karena Montero membunuh Mistress Zulé bukan Similá Bollose!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 15, 2020
Si parla di sincretismo religioso quando elementi ideologici diversi o opposti si uniscono per formare un tessuto culturale comune.
Nelle isole caraibiche l'animismo, il vudù africano, il cristianesimo europeo formano insieme una complessa stratificazione di credenze che associano a festività cristiane rituali con l'uso di umori, animali e preghiere per preservare o ferire il corpo fisico, per lanciare o proteggere dal malocchio. Il punto focale di questo libro dal titolo estremamente accattivante è proprio questo.
Una vicenda di amore e odio si svolge nei torridi campi di canna da zucchero dominicani. Zulè Revè, signora del proprio Gagà (una società nella società il cui ingresso è regolato da rituali ben precisi), si scontra con Similà Bolosse, signore del Gagà rivale ed ex-amante.
Le ragioni di questa guerra intestina sono molteplici perchè gli abitanti dei batey (i villaggi sorti accanto alle piantagioni di canna da zucchero) amano, odiano, lavorano e pregano con la stessa intensità.
Mayra Montero alterna capitoli del presente con quelli del passato in un ritmo serrato, come una delle nenie che accompagnano la narrazione.
Ho adorato questo libro, ma ha una grande lacuna: la Montero da' per scontato che il lettore sia già a conoscenza dei culti caraibici e spesso usa termini specifichi poco noti. L'introduzione scritta di suo pugno è di grande sostegno, ma sarebbe stata decisamente essenziale una pre/post-fazione per aiutare la comprensione del testo.
Nelle isole caraibiche l'animismo, il vudù africano, il cristianesimo europeo formano insieme una complessa stratificazione di credenze che associano a festività cristiane rituali con l'uso di umori, animali e preghiere per preservare o ferire il corpo fisico, per lanciare o proteggere dal malocchio. Il punto focale di questo libro dal titolo estremamente accattivante è proprio questo.
Una vicenda di amore e odio si svolge nei torridi campi di canna da zucchero dominicani. Zulè Revè, signora del proprio Gagà (una società nella società il cui ingresso è regolato da rituali ben precisi), si scontra con Similà Bolosse, signore del Gagà rivale ed ex-amante.
Le ragioni di questa guerra intestina sono molteplici perchè gli abitanti dei batey (i villaggi sorti accanto alle piantagioni di canna da zucchero) amano, odiano, lavorano e pregano con la stessa intensità.
Mayra Montero alterna capitoli del presente con quelli del passato in un ritmo serrato, come una delle nenie che accompagnano la narrazione.
Ho adorato questo libro, ma ha una grande lacuna: la Montero da' per scontato che il lettore sia già a conoscenza dei culti caraibici e spesso usa termini specifichi poco noti. L'introduzione scritta di suo pugno è di grande sostegno, ma sarebbe stata decisamente essenziale una pre/post-fazione per aiutare la comprensione del testo.
July 26, 2017
Set in Haitian communities in the Domincan Republic this is a tale of young woman recently who preparing entered the (voodoo) priesthood about to make a religious procession but who must confront and resist crop disease, rabid mongooses and a former lover pledged to destroy her. Magical, haunting, in places quite beautiful.
August 16, 2012
The writing style in this novel is very different from anything I've read before. Frankly, I just didn't like it. It was vague and confusing. It was interesting to get a glimpse into the "Gaga" or the spiritual groups of Haiti, but overall the story was not satisfying.
May 21, 2013
if you're into voudu, Hispaniola, Haiti, Bateyes, magical realism, lyrical storytelling, you'll like this book. I enjoy Montero's writing and how she weaves past/present/POV/ to create suspense and tell the story; although at times it can be confusing.
January 12, 2026
Me gusta como se va construyendo la tensión en torno al encuentro de Zule y Simile; sin embargo el final (a pesar de su relativo inesperado giro) se vuelve escueto e intrascendente, quizas ahí está su gracia y yo no le he entendido.
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews