The Island Beneath the Sea--Another Good Un

                                                                              

I have always spent a lot of time in other times and places--some more real than others. But I've always particularly loved historical fiction for what I can learn from it.

Isabel Allende's Island Beneath the Sea took me to a plantation on Saint Domingue in 1770. (Then a French colony; today, Haiti.) 

The story intertwines the destinies of Toulouse Valmorain, the heir to the sugar cane plantation, and Tete, an enslaved nine-year-old woman whom he purchases as a maid for his new wife.

The economics of a plantation dependent on sugar cane and enslaved labor are just part of the fascinating tale. At this time, it was 'economical' to work the enslaved mercilessly. When they succumbed to the brutal conditions, replacements were available and cheap.

Small wonder that people tried to escae. Small wonder that when they rebelled, under Toussaint L'Ouverture, the white of the island were targets.

When Tete, with the promise of her freedom, helps Valmorain escape, the action moves to New Orleans, Its racially stratified society and oppressive Code Noir are offset by the possibility of bettering one's lot--and Tete is determined to see her beautiful daughter (Valmorain's child) succeed in the milieu of high-class cocottes.

It's a saga, a bit of a soap opera with entwined love stories, a missing child, and surprising consequences. The rich description--whether of voodoo rites in the jungle or a ball in New Orleans--is engrossing, as is the steadfast determination of Tete.

I couldn't help being reminded of Gone with the Wind--another multi-generational sweeping saga built around slavery and a plantation, with a plucky heroine who is a survivor. I adored GWTW when I was a teenager and not 'woke' to its paternalistic white washing of slavery. Island Beneath the Sea is a refreshing antidote--and every bit as compelling a read.

Highly recommended.

                                                   

The House of the Spirits

I'm not sure why it took me so long to get around to reading this remarkable book. It was published in 1985--during which time I was very busy with kids and farm stuff and probably reading only light stuff.

But I bought a copy at a library book sale, maybe ten years ago, and still it sat, unread.

After being gently nudged by Carolyn to read One Hundred Years of Solitude, I ordered a copy. And then, to prepare for a plunge into Latin American literature, I dusted off House and made it my breakfast time reading. 

It worked! A few pages a day gave me so much to appreciate, to digest, and to ruminate on (ruminate--like a cow chewing its cud--is particularly appropriate here.) The prose is rich and satisfying and the characters are fascinating.

Three generations of very peculiar (clairvoyant, levitating, etc.) women in an unnamed South American country grow up as members of an eccentric (to put it mildly--I mean, who keeps their mother's head in a hatbox for years) family and part of the privileged class that shamelessly exploits the peons on their land

When eventually a Socialist/leftwing coalition is elected,  a right-wing junta overthrows the government and people begin to disappear.  While the patriarch of the family is a member of the right wing, his daughter and much beloved granddaughter have allied themselves with lovers on the left--a recipe for family chaos.

These are strong echoes here of Chile and and Salvador Allende, (a cousin of the author) whose Socialist government was overthrown (with help from the CIA.) 

Read this for the gorgeous writing--as well as a history lesson told slant.

Now, on to A Hundred Years of Solitude.