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Broken Paradise
by Cecilia Samartin
ISBN-10: 0743287797
ISBN-13: 9780743287791
Atria Books
$23.95 Hardcover
February 2007
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What's It About? |
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Cousins Nora and Alicia are accustomed to living in a Cuban paradise until Castro's rise to power forces Nora's family to flee the country, leaving Alicia behind. The cousins' letters depict the contrasts between their everyday lives and the constant clash between identity and loyalty.
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Who's Talking About It? |
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"Cecilia Samartin writes with shimmering grace about homeland and exile, passion and loyalty.... A richly textured story, sensuous and haunting."--Janet Fitch, author of White Oleander
"Gripping, poignant, and enlightening... a profound meditation on the complexities of the human heart and the redeeming power of love."--Carlos Eire, National Book Award-winning author of Waiting for Snow in Havana
"It's like drinking a full bottle of Cabernet by yourself."--New Zealand Public Radio
"I dare anyone not to be moved.... the book is ultimately uplifting--a testimony to the strength of love and the human spirit."--Traveller Magazine
"Cecilia Samartin delivers a novel rich in passion, heartbreak and love. Broken Paradise captures the textures and rhythms of my homeland of Cuba with its musical, agile prose and kept me engrossed to the last page. An important, timely work of fiction, it goes to the heart of what it means to be an exile. A truly American story."--Victor Rivas Rivers, actor and author of A Private Family Matter
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From Broken Paradise: |
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All of the rooms in my grandparents' large house at Varadero overlooked the sea, and the dinning room was no exception. Abuela kept the windows open most of the time as she believed fresh air to be the best defense against the many diseases she worried about. Lace curtains fluttered on the incoming ocean breeze as Abuelo said the blessing over our meal. It wasn't until he lifted his head and took up his fork that we were allowed to do the same.
I was lucky to be sitting closest to the fried bananas, my favorite, and to have Alicia right next to me. At home, our parents knew better and always separated us so we wouldn't talk and giggle when we should be learning proper table manners. It seemed that Mami was more concerned with what fork I used for the salad than with my school work.
Most of the time, Abuelo and Abuela were amused by our antics and laughed at what our parents called foolishness.
"Look at how dark you're getting," Abuela said as she handed me a large bowl of fluffy yellow rice. "People will think you're a mulatica and not the white, full-blooded Spaniard that you are." Being a full-blooded Spaniard was also a very important thing, even more important than proper manners.
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