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Supernatural Figures and Haunting as a Form of Healing in Cristina García’s “Dreaming in Cuban”

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The occult is a central theme in Cristina García’s novel, “Dreaming in Cuban”. For instance, at the very beginning of the story, Jorge del Pino’s ghost appears to say goodbye to his wife, Celia, then frequently visits his daughter Lourdes. In addition, Felicia’s passion for the occult is clear as she devotes herself entirely to Santería, and even Pilar turns to the mystical cult when in doubt. As Justin Edwards points out, haunting is a recurrent trope in postcolonial literature, where “narratives deal with history in the forms of phantoms, revenants and ghosts that return from the past to haunt the present” (Edwards, 124). However, in “Dreaming in Cuban”, by using Jorge’s ghost and numerous references to the Santería cult, García gives her characters a means of dealing with and recovering from a painful past.

Felicia’s character is the most strikingly linked to the occult. Amanda Easton argues that “emotional and physical traumas […] compel Felicia to seek out a curative relief, a means of release” and that “Santeria proves to be that source of holistic healing” (Easton, 8). Truly, we can agree that Felicia appears as a mentally troubled character, but seems completely at peace with herself, or “holistically healed” shortly before her death. Although her fascination for this religion is present throughout the novel, Felicia’s troubled mind finally finds solace when she bestows herself fully to Santeria, as Herminia explains on page 186:

At night, Felicia attended our ceremonies. She didn’t miss a single one. For her, they were a kind of poetry that connected her to larger worlds, worlds alive and infinite. Our rituals healed her, made her believe again. My father used to say that there are forces in the universe that can transform our lives if only we’d surrender ourselves. Felicia surrendered, and found her fulfilment (García, 186).

In this extract, the form of the text conveys the idea of yielding to supernatural entities, and the resulting plenitude. Indeed, we may notice that Felicia is mostly in a passive mode, as she allows the paranormal to “connect her to larger worlds” (186), “heal her” (186) and “make her believe again” (186), thereby perfectly illustrating the idea of surrendering. Additionally, the fact that the “worlds” (186) are described with lively and hyperbolic “infinite” (186) attributes supposes a superior force, thus giving the superhuman dimension to the text. As a result, Felicia’s experienced fulfilment can be literally translated into a plenitude induced by letting herself become “filled” with these spirits’ energies. We can therefore agree with Easton’s claim, and affirm that Felicia finds her inner peace and healing from her physical and mental sufferings by surrendering to the mysteries of Santería.

Although she does not share Felicia’s fervent beliefs, the hybrid character of Pilar also happens to turn to Santería, in search for answers she is unable to find anywhere else. Easton once again asserts that “Pilar, like Felicia, seeks out Santeria as a means of healing and an alternative system of negotiating the world around her” (Easton, 5). This statement can be illustrated as Pilar returns from the botánica shop, and heads the old man’s counsel, by bathing in an herbal mix for nine nights. As she prepares herself to bathe in the last paragraph of page 202, Pilar perceives the world in a very confusing way: “In the library, nothing makes sense. The fluorescent lights transmit conversations from passing cars on Broadway” (García, 202). In this last sentence, there is an impossible connection between light and sound, as conversations seem conveyed by light. This paradox only reflects the state of confusion in which Pilar finds herself, as it is followed by several short phrases: “Someone’s ordering a bucket of chicken wings on 103rd Street. The chairman of the linguistics department is fucking a graduate student named Betsy. Gandhi was a carnivore […] Maybe this is the truth” (García, 202). These sentences hardly have any link with one another, and reflect the noises and conversations Pilar hears in the library around her. By compressing so much arbitrary information in several short sentences, with very little to no transition between the different elements, García gives the text an overloaded feeling, thus translating Pilar’s own uncertainty and confusion. Further, as Pilar enters her bath, her senses are again stimulated, however contrasting with the sensual overload of the first paragraph, in a more orderly fashion, as each perception comes one at a time, in a continuity: she sees the “clear green” (203) of the bath, smells its “sharp scent” (203), and feels “cold dry ice, then a soporific heat” (203). Finally, the solution is presented with an unshakable clarity: “On the ninth day of my baths, I call my mother and tell her we’re going to Cuba” (203). Hence, we can conclude from this passage that Santería appeals to Pilar as a solution resonant of clarity, or what Easton calls “an alternative system of negotiating the world” (Easton, 5), in response to uncertainties of her surroundings she is otherwise unable to unveil.

Finally, the most present haunting figure of the novel is Jorge’s ghost. Edwards shows different uses of haunting in postcolonial literature, among which he suggests its representing of “the wounds of the past and the healing of the future” (Edwards, 120). Indeed, through his apparitions to Lourdes, Jorge seems to want to repair the wounds he has left his family. This is made clear in Lourdes’ last encounter with her father’s phantom. Before leaving for good, he tells his daughter secrets about his early life with Celia, before admonishing Lourdes to return to Cuba. Jorge for instance mentions how he tried to control his wife, then his daughter: “I tried to kill her, Lourdes. I wanted to kill her […] I wanted to break her, may God forgive me.[…] I told the doctors to make her forget […] I took you from her while you were still a part of her. I wanted to own you for myself” (García, 196). In his speech, Jorge seldom mentions Celia’s actions, he rather speaks in the first person, giving his monologue a tone of confession. However, this speach is not only meant for Jorge to leave with a clean conscience, his purpose in telling his daughter about the past is rather to heal her and his family of the pain he has caused them. We feel the soothing intention in his words as he tells Lourdes: “Your mother loved you” (196), as Lourdes has never felt motherly love from Celia. Finally, in a similar way to Pilar’s bath ritual, Jorge provides the clear instruction: “Please return and tell your mother everything, tell her I’m sorry” (197). Consequently, we can conclude from this passage that Jorge returns to his daughter in an attempt to make amends for the past, and is yet another supernatural figure García uses to guide her characters.

As a conclusion, we can therefore assert that in “Dreaming in Cuban”, García displays supernatural and haunting figures as a means of healing for her characters’ different forms of suffering. Felicia turns to Santería to find inner peace, as for Pilar, the mystic practice helps her make sense of a world she is at times unable to read and find her hybrid identity. Finally, Jorge’s ghost transmits a desire of exposing the past in hopes of helping his beloved daughter and family to recover from it.

 

Works cited:

Easton, Amanda. “A Space for Resistance and Possibility: Confronting Borders through

Narrative and Santería in Cristina García’s Dreaming in Cuban”. Label me Latina/o, Fall 2013 Volume 3.

Edwards, Justin. “Haunting”. Postcolonial Literature. Tredell Nicolas.  London: Macmillan, 2008. 117-128.

García, Cristina. Dreaming in Cuban : a novel. New York: Ballantine Books, 1993.

 

The Reunion of Felicia and Hugo or the Birth of a Deadly Union in Cristina García’s Dreaming in Cuban

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In García’s “Dreaming in Cuban”, we learn about the destructive union between Felicia, one of the main female protagonists, and Hugo Villaverde. The reader knows that the relationship is going to turn out badly, since the history of the couple is told as a flashback of Felicia, recalling her earlier life. However, in the extract recounting the lovers’ reunion after Hugo’s absence and their marriage shortly after, the text and stylistic devices give sufficient indication that this union is doomed to ruin.  Indeed, in the passage going from “When they met again late in hurricane season […]” (p. 80) to “His twin daughters were born without him on Christmas Eve” (p. 81), García’s use of tropes, figures of sound and a lexical field closely related to death creates a lugubrious atmosphere, which foreshadows the tragic outcome of both characters’ future.

Primarily, by examining the global structure of the extract beginning with the reunion of Hugo and Felicia “late in hurricane season” (p.80), and ending with the birth of Luz and Milagro “on Christmas Eve” (p.81), we notice that the text is made up essentially of brief sentences. The most striking example of this minimalist style is the description of the marriage ceremony, which is recapitulated in 3 short sentences: “Hugo married Felicia at city hall the week of the Cuban missile crisis. Herminia brought a bottle of champagne from Spain but no one remembered to open it. Jorge del Pino refused to attend” (p.81). These phrases share the most basic grammatical structure: the subject comes first (Hugo / Herminia / Jorge del Pino / no one), which is directly connected to an active verb (married / brought / remembered / refused) followed by a direct object (Felicia / a bottle of champagne from Spain / to open it / to attend [the ceremony]), with additional time and space indications in the first sentence exclusively (at city hall the week of the Cuban missile crisis). The use of short and nearly identically structured clauses creates a form of repetition and gives the passage a jolting rhythm. Additionally, by conveying no emotion and rendering only hard facts, the text creates a cold, somewhat austere atmosphere, which might be more fitting for a funeral description. We can thus affirm that the minimalist form of the extract and more specifically the very formal description of the wedding ceremony create a cold and negative atmosphere, which makes the reader anticipate the gloomy series of events.

Although the passage mostly contains brief sentences, García still provides a few descriptions. For instance, in the last paragraph of page 80, the butcher shop where Felicia works as a cashier is thoroughly described with the help of several metaphors and similes linked to the lexical field of butchery. First of all, the setting is full of animal flesh; there are “bleeding carcasses” (p. 80) hanging all over the butcher shop, and even a dead “hog’s head” (p. 80) sitting “like a trophy” (p. 80). The use of vocabulary related to butchery undoubtedly contributes to the glacial ambiance of the passage, as the presence of flesh and blood echoes death. Even humans are given features of animal meat: Felicia has difficulties distinguishing the butchers from the “marbled slabs of beef at their elbows” (p. 80), and also sees porcine traits in her customers, as Compañera Sordo’s “bristly jowls and upturned nose” (p. 80) and Compañero Llorente’s “pink eyes and jerking chin” (p. 80). Interestingly, Felicia herself is metaphorically depicted with those animal-like features, as “her cheeks are threaded with a web of fine veins” (p. 80), and she even ends up calling herself “red meat” (p.81). The fact that individuals are described with words normally associated to animals and meat dehumanizes them, thereby accentuating the cold, emotionless feel of the text. Therefore, we can argue that by using a butcherly lexical field to depict the shop, and metaphorically describing human characters with this same vocabulary, the author produces a dark ambiance, to some extent deprived of human warmth, auguring Felicia and Hugo’s future.

As we have observed the effects of structure and vocabulary on the atmosphere of the text, we may now focus on the characters’ speech. The only dialogue found in this passage is the very short exchange of Felicia and Hugo, immediately after their marriage on page 81. Felicia breaks the silence by telling her husband: “If you want, I can tie you up the way you like” (p. 81). In response, he answers: “If you come near me, I’ll kill you […]” (p. 81). In this brief conversation, we can highlight the parallelism in the grammatical structure of both sentences. This figure of style emphasizes the contrast between each character’s saying, since the only thing both sentences have in common is structure. Effectively, Felicia offers to do what she knows will please her husband, whereas he responds in the complete opposite manner, threatening to kill her. This exchange illustrates the dysfunctionality in the couple’s relationship, and predicts the union’s tragic fate. Hence, the use of parallelism in the only dialogue of the text contrasts Felicia’s intentions with Hugo’s, making us understand that the marriage is destined to destruction.

Although figures of speech are of crucial importance to grasp the meaning of the passage, figures of sound are not to be neglected. The poetic dimension of “Dreaming in Cuban” relies partly on the sounds chosen by García to express emotions. Notably, there is an explicit use of alliteration when the text speaks about Hugo’s actions. For example, we read in the following sentences: “Hugo settled into the sofa and stared straight ahead, saying nothing […] Hugo slept on the sofa and left for sea the next day” (p.81). The sibilant alliteration in these two sentences is striking, and seems to be attached to Hugo’s character, as if it were an attribute. The effect of these /s/ sounds is, in this case, to create an atmosphere of sinister. Effectively, as we picture Hugo on the sofa, either staring into space and remaining silent, either sleeping on it alone, we definitely do not imagine a joyful scene, but a rather gloomy image. Consequently, we may affirm that the systematic use of sibilant alliteration when referring to Hugo’s actions has a sinister effect on the text’s mood, and prefigures the couple’s equally menacing future.

As a conclusion, we can therefore assert, based on textual evidence, that the reunion of Felicia and Hugo and their following marriage is only the beginning of their own destruction. As a matter of fact, Garcia skillfully uses repetition in grammatical structure, metaphorical language, selected vocabulary and alliteration to create a glacial, lugubrious atmosphere, thereby foretelling her characters’ dark prospect. Hence, these stylistic elements give us a basis to affirm that the couple is inevitably bound to a tragic ending.