A Cuban-American classic about the power of survival
Of all the ARCs I was never granted, I’m thrilled Of Women and Salt was not one of them. When I read the synopses about a multi-generational tale of Cuban and Cuban-American women, it struck me that I am completely ignorant to the culture or history of Cuba. I needed to read this. And I could not stop admiring the cover. I mean. Look at it.
I loved that women were the driving force and sole voices of the story. Women are the backbone of generations of suffering and hardship, though they are rarely given their due in the chapters of history. These women are not simply mothers or wives, but people with dreams, love, and grit. This novel packs their searing love and tales of survival with empathy and nuance.
From the first page, this story is undeniably moving. Of Women and Salt is packed with natural imagery of its origin. A big theme that spoke to me was the synchronicity of women’s resilience and the forces of nature from which it comes. From one character’s fascination with birds to another’s meditation on the hot, dusty roads of Cuba, this story points to women as an extension of nature, a force that grows its limbs and roots in equal measure. Despite varied consequences and hardship, that force persists through this maternal line of characters.
The youngest character imagines dunes of sand in her lungs while she waits to cross the Rio Grande at night. Another follows a trail of blood leading ominously to her neighbor’s porch and the roar of a wild animal inside: A scene evocative of the jungle within the suburbs. In one of the many heartbreaking lines, a mother writes to her drug-riddled daughter, “you were always crumbling, always eroding.”
Even in the sterilized interior of an institution, one mother imagines her daughter a unique species of bird, one that will fight and fly away. Nature is omnipresent in each of these women’s survival.
The book jumps its timeline back and forth without order. This can be disorienting (I spent quite a bit of time looking at the family tree at the front of the book), but it felt appropriate for the Cuban-Americans, whose stories may have felt lost to the waves of space and time.
I think the point is that it didn’t matter what happened first or last. Each experience is a story, and that brought the themes into sharper focus, the narrative flowing as one strong river, not unlike the one a protagonist crosses toward the end of the novel, the force of women in their own existence, pushing, pulling, changing, but ultimately each a piece of a bigger phenomenon.
There were so many important topics this story touches: Colonization, rebellion, immigration, deportation, drug abuse, and domestic abuse large among them. But the breadth of the topics didn’t feel wide at all in this short and concise novel. The takeaways were complete, simple, yet profound.
Many big historical events happen adjacently to these women — they don’t see the fighting or actively organize but are simply survivors in a situation where they have little power. Women like them are overlooked next to the sacrifices of soldiers and the philosophies of men. This book validates these Latina women’s lives, not only as mothers, but as individuals whose stories deserve to be heard.
Of Women and Salt releases on March 30.
Thank you for the review, – sounds very interesting. It’s on my list!