Word: cuban
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DISINTERRED. CHE GUEVERA, legendary Argentine-born revolutionary; according to the Bolivian government and a Cuban forensics team, which announced that his remains may have been unearthed near Vallegrande, Bolivia. If confirmed, this discovery ends a 30-year hunt for the leftist guerrilla's body...
...that I almost expect to see the headline GOOD PEOPLE REWARDED; EVIL ONES TO SUFFER. The worry monger in me finds no satisfaction in the international pages either. The democracy kudzu spreads relentlessly, and while there are troubles, none compares with the risk of imminent global incineration. Then: the Cuban missile crisis. Now: the Caribbean summit. After so carefully developing the habit of pessimism, is it any wonder I feel bereft...
Reina Aguero fixes electrical wires in Fidel Castro's Cuba, while living with the "remnants of a bird's nest" in the chandelier of her decaying house; Constancia Aguero Cruz basks in affluent loneliness in Key Biscayne, Fla., where Cuban songs play "slow as regret, on the afternoon radio." Constancia wears Adolfo suits as she drives her pink Cadillac to the factory she owns; Reina sashays braless among the mahogany trees. Yet though they live on opposite sides of the revolution, both Aguero sisters share something deep as blood: a matter-of-fact commitment to the magic of their island...
...first novel, Dreaming in Cuban, five years ago, Cristina Garcia laid authoritative claim to the hearts and elemental souls of Cuban women, their dreams, their zany ways, the "anxious moonlight" inside them; in the process, she won a National Book Award nomination and a devoted following. Now, in her second novel, The Aguero Sisters, (Knopf; 300 pages; $24), she extends her domain to the whole history of the island across this century, and the "aura vultures" and "Batista hawks" and "siguapa stygian owls" that flit through its heavens, above all the political upheavals and reversals. Indeed, not the least...
...world where men, hit by lightning, start to read everything backward and women swallow silver dust to cure themselves of hallucinations (it doesn't work). The everyday magic of this invisible realm is given fiber by the hard facts of natural history she incorporates, and the sheer extravagance of Cuban thinking ("Dreams about carne asada can mean only one thing," a radio hostess opines: "that the caller should devote her life to God"). Writing in a voice not quite like any other, Garcia takes exuberant flight without ever taking leave of the true...