Dominicana Fiction Book Review

Fiction Book Review: Dominicana

I want to seek out, and read, books by Dominican authors with the hopes of connecting with my culture that I know little of. I was born and raised in the United States to Dominican immigrants. This, however, meant nothing to me. I have vague memories of visiting the Dominican Republic with my parents when I was a kid. Vague, yet somehow memorable and nostalgic; the rundown and historic way the streets looked, the smell of the nearby Atlantic Ocean, the plethora of people in the streets no matter the time of day, the blackouts – memories, and lingering feelings that encapsulate inexplicable emotions. The last time I was in the Dominican Republic was in 1986 when I was five or six years old. I could not say for sure.

One memory, however, is as clear as day. I remember being in my paternal grandparents’ newly built house whose foundation was made out of cinderblocks. Walking through the kitchen on the ceramic (I think) floors, I approached the sliding glass doors to the patio and pulled them open. As soon as I stepped outside, and before my barefoot could touch the hot concrete beneath, a mouse sprinted out of nowhere and occupied the space between the ground and my foot. Sadly, for the mouse, it was no match for the weight of my heavy foot as I stepped on it.

SPLAT!

When I lifted my foot, the mouse lay still and small rivets of blood made its way out of its mouth. This, I remember clearly as I, inadvertently, killed a mouse. I don’t recall being grossed out, nor showing pity or remorse, but it is a story that comes up from time to time about the last time I was in the Dominican Republic. My family and I have a good laugh recounting that story.

It wasn’t until I was about thirty-seven years old that I went back to the Dominican Republic, the “motherland”, the place of my ancestry. It had been thirty years since I was last there and I wanted my four-year-old daughter to meet her great paternal grandmother while she was still alive and coherent. While there, memories and emotions came flooding back as I visited family members whom I’ve only met a handful of times, unbeknownst to me, when I was too little to take notice or give a damn. Upon rekindling with me, they too were very excited to meet me or see me again, as it was so long ago since they had last seen me. The last time they saw me I was “yay” big, they would say as they lay out a hand, knee-high, palm facing the ground, demonstrating how small I was. Then, like a slap in the face, they realized they were talking to the middle child and not the eldest. Their faces sunk. I jokingly referred to my brother, with my wife, as the prodigal son. I will admit that, for a moment, I felt deflated. But, I couldn’t care less because I was not there for praise or glory. I was there for my daughter and wife to experience the culture and meet my side of the family even if they could care less of who I was.

Again, I was looking for books, either fact or fiction. I wanted to read stories that revolved around experiences that take place in Washington Heights in Manhattan, NY, where I was born and raised, much like in the vein of the 2002 indie film Raising Victor Vargas. While the film takes place in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, on the opposite end of Manhattan and far from Washington Heights, we follow Victor as he weaves through everyday mundane obstacles that are a new girlfriend and family, to name a few. It is a coming of age story that shows the simplicities and difficulties of growing up, unbeknownst to what lies ahead in the future where only what mattered was the now.

To date, I’ve had no luck finding a book that portrayed something similar. I did, however, stumble upon Dominican author Elizabeth Acevedo and her book, Clap When You Land. The book’s title resonated with me because clapping and cheering was something done whenever a plane landed safely at its destination – another thing I remembered as a kid. While I found Clap When You Land thoroughly enjoyable, it is not exactly the book I was searching for, as it’s written in verse, resembling a poem. It also featured a female protagonist which I could not fully relate to being that I am a male. Still, I wanted to read more from Dominican authors. I read Drown by Dominican author Junot Diaz years ago when I was in high school but have absolutely no memory of it. I will revisit this one and his other works in due time.

Dominicana, a novel by Angie Cruz, tells the story of Ana Cancion, a 15-year-old who emigrates to New York City from the Dominican Republic to marry Juan, a man twice her age at the behest of her parents. It was not for love but a union that would wield monetary gain and prosperity for the survival of her family. While the book is fiction, Cruz incorporated real-life events into the book, namely a portion of the reign of dictator, Rafael Trujillo. For the most part, the story takes place in 1965 after Trujillo’s assassination, and the Dominican people were still picking up the pieces left behind by the dictator’s thirty-year. It is the same year that my parents, both 12 years old, immigrated to the United States. The dictator is only included in the story because he played a significant role in Dominican history. The aftermath of his wraith also serves as a plot point that sets the actions of the story into motion.

This story, however, is Ana’s story of growth, immigration, perseverance and of being “othered” in a foreign land. It is a coming of age story of a young woman who, despite the odds, does not succumb to the powers that be. Dominicana is a story of love and betrayal, a story of isolation and longing. It is a book of acceptance and wanting to belong. Again, the year is 1965, race tensions are at an all-time high; Malcolm X was just assassinated and the Dominican people are the new kids on the block trying to find their place in this new world. It is the story of the immigrant; the English, the Irish, the German Catholics, other Europeans, the Puerto Ricans, and the Dominicans. Each new wave of immigrants, struggling to find work and their place in this new land. Dominicana highlights these endeavors and clashes through the eyes of Ana. Cruz puts us in the shoes of these Dominicans as they fight to make ends meet, tip-toeing around “the man” not wanting to be noticed for fear of deportation and relied on one on another to get by.

The era in which this takes place is foreign to me as I was not yet born into this world, so many of the things included were new to me. It was both wonderful, and scary, reading about how Washington Heights was during that time where people of our skin color were a rarity in the neighborhood. Today, Washington Heights is known for the large population of Dominican people who live in the uppermost region of Manhattan. Heck, there is a popular play, now movie, In the Heights, penned by Hamilton creator, Lin Manuel-Miranda.

There is an arc in Ana’s story in Dominicana as her journey into womanhood is met with obstacle after obstacle. In this journey, we witness Ana blossom from being a submissive, putting her head down and being at the mercy of others, mostly men, including her husband Juan, through her resilience. Dominicana is about finding your voice and knowing what to do with it once found. Cruz exemplifies a wonderful exercise in learning, growing and overcoming. Reading Dominicana was a delight for me and, although I could not fully relate, it gave me a glimpse of what it may have been like for my parents when they emigrated to the United States in the 60s. It made me appreciate the plight of my parents all the more.