The Cubans: Ordinary Lives in Extraordinary Times

Takie reportaże uwielbiam, gdzie ludzie i ich codzienność wiodą prym! <br /><br />Lata 1940-2018, na Kubie, przedstawione z perspektywy kilku bohaterów. Bohaterów, których życie toczyło się jednym torem, a jednak niektórym udało się obrać inny kierunek... <br /><br />Z całego serca polecam Wam tę podróż do ludzi, którzy pokazują to, czego nie zobaczycie w mediach.

Using the Havana suburb of Guanabacoa as the central glue of the narrative, journalist Anthony DePalma takes the reader behind the scenes into a cross-section of lives: a famed artist, a Communist party stalwart and vice minister, young people desperate to make something of their lives, a man who loses 14 relatives in a tragic attempt to escape the island, and many others. The disillusionment, bitterness and weariness of the Cuban people, cowed by decades of fear and poverty imposed on them by stubborn, near-sighted leaders intent on maintaining power at all costs, surge through the pages. These "ordinary" stories expose the revolution's vaunted "successes" in health, education, and equality as little more than shams. The book sadly leaves scant hope that anything will change in Cuba in the foreseeable future, but is testament to the resilience and ingenuity of the Cuban people. Readers will be left feeling that Cubans deserve so much more. A must-read for anyone interested in Latin America.

A remarkable account of just what it says: ordinary Cubans living in a gritty suburb of Havana, trying to get by in one of the last Communist countries in the world. Which isn't working any better there than anywhere else it's been tried. <br /><br />Enough politics. Author DePalma, who's traveled extensively in Cuba and married a Cuban immigrant, has written an almost novelistic account of five families, growing old in a Cuba where just to get by takes extraordinary effort. The WSJ's review (paywalled; the one that led me to read the book) said:<br />"The daily quest for food and basic supplies—from eggs to bedsheets—seems to demand every ounce of the families’ energy and creativity. Mr. DePalma believes that Cubans are “cursed by their own greatest strength—their indomitable adaptability.” Their inventive resilience has a downside. And it may be why Cuba is embargo-proof: “People who can turn a plastic soda bottle into a gas tank for a motorcycle . . . see the world differently from other more conventional societies.”<br /><br />But people get tired of the daily battle. 1.5 million Cubans have emigrated since the Castro regime came to power. Many have family in South Florida, just 90 miles away.<br /><br />I recommend the book, if you have any interest in Cuba. Strong 4 stars. Rather than write a full review (I didn't keep notes), the short review at Kirkus is good: <a target="_blank" rel="noopener nofollow" href="https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/anthony-depalma/the-cubans/">https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-re...</a> I'd be happy to email you a copy of the fine WSJ review, on request.

I've never been to Cuba although my daughters, who are half-Cuban I guess, have been a couple of times with their mom, so I definitely feel an emotional pull to the island nation. Plus hell yeah Che and Fidel and the revolution! It's too bad that, like all systems, whether "democratic", capitalistic, autocratic, communistic, tribal, etc., it collapsed into corruption and greed (for money and things and power), greatly amplified by a cruel US trade embargo that hurt the "ordinary people" that Anthony DePalma portrays in his well-reported book, The Cubans. DePalma focuses on a historic neighborhood called Guanabacoa, which sits across the harbor from Old Havana and is something of a disaster, infrastructure-wise. We closely follow the lives of three or four families over the course of 20 years or so, with backstories taking us to 1959 but mostly kicking in with the collapse of the Soviet Union, the concurrent loss of USSR aid, and the subsequent "Special Period" of extreme poverty, hunger, and shortages, which was further exacerbated by the US embargo. The people we meet range from true Communist/Fidel believers like Cary, a black woman who rose through the party ranks and became disillusioned by the privileges it granted her, to skeptics like Arturo, an artist who spent much of his career in Mexico. There's also a terrible story about a tugboat filled with families escaping to Miami which was rammed and sunk by authorities, killing like 25 people including children. DePalma tries hard to seem objective, and just report on these people lives as they happened, but righteous anti-Castro, anti-Communist sentiments do seep in. Which, considering what a disaster America is, and how corrupt our own political processes, garners zero sympathy from me. I did like reading about these people, and these places, though.  

This non fiction account of various families living in a Havana neighborhood from the years of the revolution to present time reads like a good novel. It is a fascinating, engrossing, in depth narrative. Having spent some time in Cuba, I felt that DePalma <br />captured the vibrancy, frustration, dashed feeling of possibilities, and character of some of the people I met there. My hope for this book is that it may help some people realize that our most recent treatment of Cuba has not affected the government there, but has had a significant impact on the lives of everyday people. I understand the hatred of Castro and the revolution among those who live here, but cannot understand how they can put embargos in place that hurt people…many of whom have no first hand memory of the revolution. The cruelty is unimaginable. <br />

A fascinating exploration of the history of Cuba in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, as seen through the eyes of five families living in the rough-and-tumble Havana suburb of Guanabacoa. Anthony DePalma, a former foreign correspondent in Cuba, draws on his professional and personal connections to produce a piece of reportage that's full of human interest and sharply observed detail. You won't come away from this with a deeper understanding of the intricacies of Cuban internal politics or its place in broader geopolitics—and DePalma's failure to really grapple with the horrors of the Batista regime or the consequences of American imperialism is the biggest flaw with the book—but <i>The Cubans</i> will leave you with a much better sense of <i>cubanidad</i>.

Riding high off of a wave of fantastic fiction, I dove into this book with no forethought from the recommendation of a trusted friend. Being the American born son of Cubans, the general theme of the promise of the revolution and the heartbreaking reality of life in Cuba wasn’t unknown to me but the detail within the book and the arc of the lives of the subjects of the book brought home the painful reality and dogged resourcefulness of my family’s countrymen. I could not help but tear up at the stories within. I listened on audiobook and it was a great listen. I cued up another book of fiction when I realized this was non-fiction but I couldn’t put the book down. Highly recommend.

Having visited Cuba for the first time in spring of 2019, this book resonated deeply with me. We had planned the trip in order to see Cuba before it "opened up" and became more Americanized. Little did we know that not long after we were there, the Trump administration would undo the Obama-era rapprochement that benefited the Cuban people. They labeled Cuba as part of the so-called "troika of tyranny." Among other restrictions, "bans on travel to Cuba, which had been relaxed by Obama in 2017, were reintroduced to restrict movement of US citizens to and from the island...[U.S. National Security Advisor] Bolton said this was necessary because Obama had 'provided the Cuban regime with the necessary political cover to expand its malign influence.'" From my amateur traveler perspective, all that does is eliminate the opportunity for cultural and civic influence which can lead to an evolution toward greater freedom in Cuba. (But as far as I could surmise, the point was, as ever, to satisfy wealthy and bitter Cuban-American Republicans in Florida.)<br /><br />When we were there, we saw clearly how the constraints that the U.S. embargo puts on capitalism (gee, isn't that what America wants for everyone? But hey, if our businesses can't trade with them, guess where they get their buses?: China. ) combine with the constraints of a repressive government to lock Cubans in an eternal struggle to keep afloat. DePalma, true to the title of his book, focuses on that individual struggle. He addresses politics as much as possible from the points of view of his "characters." The most damning incident of the Castro regime presented here is the 13 de Marzo tragedy--which I had never heard about before--in which a commandeered ferry boat is brutally rammed and sunk by government operatives as families try to flee Cuba to make a new life for themselves in Florida. Almost everyone on board was killed, including children. (As I write this, the context of U.S. government operatives assaulting unarmed protestors in Portland, Oregon; challenges to voting access; and a crippled response to a pandemic inclines me to see more parallels of oppression in our own country than perhaps the author of "The Cubans" intended.) <br /><br />It is tragic in any case to see the onset of citizens' disillusionment with the socialist promise of no more "haves and have-nots." Just as it is here, with a similar American promise: work hard and you'll succeed. But, the big dogs continue to get the bones. <br /><br />We learn through these resilient people about education, religion, family, business, art, music, and loyalty. I could so clearly remember my visit to the Muraleando Community Art Project, where locals had created from a garbage dump a wonderful venue and school for the arts. I could picture my friend Phil sharing his pictures of Fenway Park with a waiter who is a die-hard Red Sox fan. I recalled that it was safer to walk about in Havana at night than in most U.S. cities. I remembered the trash in the ocean, and how you can't flush toilet paper because the water system is so antiquated--but without being able to import equipment to collect and process waste, how do you clean it up? I remembered the music. The couple who survived a hurricane that damaged their home in Remedios. Well-educated--both in the health professions--but their plan was for him to serve the burgeoning tourist industry and for her to do salon work--both careers paid more. At least, until the renewed stranglehold on American tourism. <br /><br />In the prologue, dePalma says of the Cubans:<br />"They have long been cursed by their greatest strength--their indomitable adaptability and their bottomless capacity to make do. That's why the U.S. embargo hasn't worked, and never will. The idea of making conditions on the island so intolerable that the people will rise up and crush the Castro regime ignores the Cubans' innate ability to find a way to survive. People who can turn a plastic soda bottle into a gas tank for a motorcycle, or use an old piston heated in a kitchen stove to repair a flat tire, see the world differently from other more conventional societies.....Only the bravest or most desperate risk everything to join the small number of outspoken dissidents that the government stalks, harasses and sometimes imprisons." <br /><br /><br />There is a map in the front of the book, of the town near Havana where most of the episodes in the book take place. What I could have used more--and I wish dePalma would incorporate this into his second printing!--is a sort of "cast of characters," family trees, for cross-reference. There are a lot of extended families and friends here, and their stories are interwoven. Sometimes their histories and relationships were hard to keep straight. Still, the personalities and experiences (of Cary, Lili, Arturo, and Jorge especially) were moving and memorable.

Loved the book. It tells true stories about my country and about real Cubans living life through 60 years of "Revolution". I strongly recommend it.

Author Anthony DePalma tells the story of Cuba through the lives of five ordinary Cubans, all living in Guanabacoa, a city near Havana. What I loved about it: The personal narratives of these individuals who lived through so much political change showed me how politics and policies affect individuals. Also, I loved when DePalma uses their lives to teach the reader about the history and culture of Cuba. <br /><br />The downside of this approach brings me to what I didn't love about the book: If Castro's policies did not affect these five individuals and their families, DePalma does not write about it. Particularly missing from the story, in my mind but I read the book to learn more about Cuba so there might be more, is the Cuban Missile Crisis and how Castro "dealt with" AIDS on the island in the 1980s. <br /><br />Still, I learned a whole, whole lot and ended up caring quite a lot about these individuals whose ordinary lives proved extraordinary because they endured so much.