All posts by Dona

Review: In the Time of the Butterflies

Reading

In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez
Note: Already posted on Revish – but until Revish goes public, I’m going to cross post my reviews here.

When my book group chose In the Time of the Butterflies for our January book I was not pleased. I didn’t want to read a fictional account of revolutionaries, especially knowing how it would end. I felt I needed a light and uplifting book during the dark days of winter, rather than a book that told of life under a brutal dictator. I gave in, however, and checked the book (and tapes) out of the local public library. While I didn’t find In the Time of the Butterflies a light read, it was, in its own way, uplifting.

It took me longer than the allotted time to read this book; I even cheated by listening to the book on tape during long drives or while doing chores in the kitchen interspersed with reading the book during wrestling matches or before bed at night. I cannot say I ever really got into the book until the last 100 pages or so.

The book begins as Dedé, the only remaining Mirabal sister, readies herself to meet yet another interviewer intent on knowing about the Butterflies thirty-four years after their deaths. Dedés thoughts begin at what she considers year zero, and the book takes off from there, each of the sisters voices contributing to the lyrical narrative: Minerva, the beautiful rebellious one, Patria, the religious one, Maria Theresa, the baby, and Dedé, the one who survived. Each sister tells part of the story of their introduction into the ways of revolutionaries and their life in prison and under home arrest.

As a postscript to the book the author, Julia Alvarez, tells of her own family’s flight from the Dominican Republic and her fascination with the Mirabal sisters. She explains her reasons for writing the book and emphasizes it is a fictionalized account of the lives of these sisters. I wish this had been a forward instead of a postscript. As I read the book I thought it was, more or less, a biography, and discovering that it was a work of fiction made it fall a little flat for me. However, the list of people to whom Ms Alvarez spoke is impressive, and lends more credibility to the story than she gives herself credit for.

I ended up liking the book more than I’d expected I would. I learned a number of things about the time and place in history. For example, it was interesting to note that the revolutionaries in the book were jubilant when Fidel Castro overthrew Cuba. It didn’t surprise me, once I thought about it, but it was interesting nonetheless.

Despite Ms Alvarez’s wish that this book “…will bring acquaintance of [the Mirabal] sisters to English-speaking readers…” I think that some pre-knowledge of the time in history would have been beneficial to me. I might have been more willing to spend more time getting to know the protagonists and less time stalling. But then, works of fiction don’t come with prerequisites, do they?

Notes kept during reading:

[January 28, 2007] I didn’t choose to read this book, it was chosen for me by the members of my book group. I probably would not have read it, left to my own volition. I’m not sorry I’m reading it however, it is well written and I’m learning about a piece of world history about which I knew nothing.

Because I decided, late in the game, to read this book, I picked it up along with the taped version. I’m enjoying listening to it more than I’m enjoying reading it because the women who read the book on tape have such delightful voices.

Although our book group discussion has already taken place, I’m planning on finishing this book while awaiting delivery of the next book group book.

[January 28, 2007]
I discovered something interesting last night when I was reading this book. I’d been listening to it on tape and not actually reading it, but last night chose to read in bed (one of my favorite things to do). I couldn’t remember where I’d stopped listening so re-read a number of pages. I enjoyed the story until I got to the part I had not heard on tape – then I grew weary of it. It could have been because I was tired. I hope so. It would suck if I suddenly didn’t like to read anymore!

28. Voices of new generations

Music, Song Blog, , , ,

I have a confession to make. Until I became interested in Dan Bern, I’d never actively listened to a song by Bob Dylan. Oh, I knew his name and might even have been able to name a song he wrote, but if I had an opinion of him it would have been – famous singer with the bad voice.

As for Bruce Springsteen – I knew who he was and knew a couple of songs he wrote and sang, however I had a grudge against him. It was a completely unfair grudge, but a grudge nonetheless. See, when my husband and I first began dating he led me to believe I’d be going to a Bruce Springsteen concert with him and some of his friends. Then he told me that I wasn’t invited. That there were not enough tickets to go around. I was taken aback that he’d go without me, but he did and had a wonderful time. Not only that, the person who’d either gotten the tickets or promised him the tickets was a girl I was already jealous of. So Bruce was not spoken of around me. Ever.

I did know who Woody Guthrie was though – and liked his music.

Since discovering Bern, I’ve I’ve listened to music from all of the above, and have done a little reading about them. However, I’ve never found out if the story about Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan is true. Did Woody, on his deathbed, really tell Bob to go out and be the voice of the new generation? Anyone know? Del?

Here’s Dan Bern’s sequel to that tale.

Talking Woody, Bob, Bruce & Dan Blues

Well, when Woody Guthrie was sick and dying
Bob Dylan visited him as he was lying
In a hospital bed Bob sang him songs
Woody smiled and said I’m glad you come
You belong here
Go forth and be the voice of your generation

Well, above Beverly Hills one night real late
I snuck past a security gate
Parked by a Mercedes Benz
Climbed up a barbed wire fence and over
Couple of scratches, but I’d made it
To the home of Bruce Springsteen

Well, I found the boss asleep in bed
Pillows piled up round his head
I turned on the light took off my coat
Stuck a thermometer down his throat
Said don’t talk
You look pale , Boss
Not at all well

I said you look bad and I asked him could he
Think of us as Bob and Woody
I said you just rest your pretty head
As I sing to you in your hospital bed
He said what the hell you talking about
I ain’t sick
This ain’t a hospital
And how’d you get past the security gate

I said I wrote you a song called Song To Bruce
With a tune I stole from one of yours
To his platinum records next I pointed
Said I just want to be anointed
Springsteen, I wrote you a song
‘Bout a funny ol’ world that’s a coming along
Seems sick and it’s tired it’s hard and it’s torn
It looks like it’s dying and it’s hardly been born
He started really looking sick
And I stopped singing

Then Patty his wife came in I said jeez
I’m sorry about your husband’s incurable disease
I’m here to help any way I can
You know, Woody and Bob, Bruce and Dan
She said honey, what am I hearing?
He said baby, you know I’m in the prime of life
I said down to two million in sales last time out
Read the signs, Patty

He said some people think this record’s my best
I said shhhhh, you need your rest
He said there’s a madman on the loose
I said Woody and Bob, Dan and Bruce

He sprang out of his bed and said
All right, I’ve heard enough of this stuff
He grabbed my throat and dragged me hard
Down the hall and through the yard
Suprising strength for a dying man

Well, he threw me out the way I come
Barbed wire scraped my face and thumbs
I’ve been thinking ever since
Bob and Woody
Dan and the artist formerly known as Prince
Dan and Madonna
Bob and Woody-
Dan and Bob
So long, Bel Air
Howdy, Malibu

27. Tap, step one-two-three

Music, Song Blog, ,

While we’re in London in 1979, here’s another one.

I cannot sing and I cannot dance. It is a fact, confirmed by both my college “kiddie music” professor and my former aerobics instructors. Oh, and the general public.

That doesn’t necessarily stop me from doing either, or both, but the results are rather disastrous.

Tim didn’t believe I couldn’t dance, and since it was still the the days of disco he decided to teach me the Latin Hustle. It was at a Bring Your Own Baby party at Southlands College in London. (The college was Methodist and didn’t allow alcohol – so we brought our own, but could not advertise it as such. So the posters said Baby instead of Booze. I sure bet we fooled the authorities!)

I only have vague visions of that night – maybe I had too much baby or maybe it was just too long ago. I do remember Tim showing me the steps – and saying Tap Step one-two-three a lot. I tap stepped one-two-threed a lot and he claimed I did well. I also remember being exhausted.

In later years, with different dance partners I tried to tap step one-two-three, but the results were much different – usually involving laughing and hurt feelings.

Never mind – I didn’t much like disco anyway.

This video isn’t Tim, (I don’t’ think it is Tim, cannot see his face) but it’s someone Doing the Hustle. And there seems a lot more numbers (and fruit, imitation dairy products and animals) involved than I remember.