Customer Reviews

Cuba Diaries: An American Housewife in Havana

5 star:		(12)
4 star:		(5)
3 star:		(10)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(4)

 

 

I believe this may be the second best book I have ever read and possibly one of the most insightful travel logs ever written.

Composed of almost-daily entries and organized by school year, Cuba Diaries is the journal of an American housewife living in Havana during the mid-90s. Solely concerned with feeding, entertaining and educating her children while sustaining her marriage, Isadora Tattlin details what sounds like a mundane life. Yet, because it is all happening in beautiful, wacky Cuba, the author's every day chores take on a rip-rollicking feel that will easily have you laughing out-loud.

Because Cuba is the "forbidden island" just 90 miles south of Florida, there is a natural curiosity about it for any American who has ever thought about Fidel Castro and the country he has ruled since 1959.

While Cuba Diaries feeds that curiosity, the author does something smart with it, too. Rather than editorialize her position on Castro or Cuba, Tattlin avoids politics altogether and instead recites bizarre facts, one right after another:

"In the Diplo a seventeen-dollar cabbage" was all she wrote on entry 68 of the second school year.

While other reviewers may detect a snooty, privileged attitude on the author's part or a disrespect for Cuban people in general, I never found any of Tattlin's witty observations to be remotely critical of the resourceful people who have learned to live on this island with so little for so long.

On the contrary, the reader is lead to feel enormous empathy, undying respect and sheer admiration for Cubans. And though the author never pushes the reader toward any conclusions about Castro, by simply typing up the events of her four years in Cuba, Tattlin leaves you with two burning wishes: 1. that somehow Castro will somehow disappear and; 2. that you can hop on the next plane to Havana and join the fun.

I know that "Tattlin" felt descriptions of her life and friends in Cuba had to be obscured in Cuba Diaries so as not to rile the government or jeopardize anyone's position. But that doesn't explain why she fails to describe the beautiful countryside, why she and her children "will never forget the Cuban nights," the enchanting music on every corner, the crumbling but unique and exceptional Havana architecture, or the stunningly gorgeous citizens. More than just a combination of "cafe con una gota de leche" or various other permutations of their African/European roots, they are unlike people anywhere else.

"Isadora" is so over-protective of herself, her marriage, her position, and her feelings that what we are left with is little more than datebook entries. I read the book because I'm in love with Cuba, but I didn't recognize its spirit in this smug musing on a privileged life in what could be any third world country.

I've been to Cuba, and spent most of my time in Havana. Every morning while walking even to get a cup of coffee (which Tattlin describes as nearly impossible -- if you believe her version the only place to get food is at her house or in a paladar), I met with beautiful music, beautiful voices, and cheerful conversations among Cubans on the sidewalks and streetcorners.

Not that Habaneros are elated 24/7, but there is a wonderful outlook and wonderful talent among the people that I feel is completely overlooked by those who only go to the society-filled cultural events. Isadora should have skipped some of the Castro affairs and tried walking down the street and listening to the various impromptu performances going on.

Yes, some of Cuba is depressing. Doctors, engineers, scientists are impoverished and many drive taxicabs or cater to tourists to make ends meet. There are too many government restrictions. The paladares Tattlin frequents were prohibitively expensive when I was there (early 2001) due to a crackdown and exorbitant taxation by the government.

Tattlin's descriptions of the government, the difficulties Cubans face in getting provisions, and the vast disparity between the haves and have-nots were very good. I just expected, because this was supposedly a diary, a little more depth, feeling, and gut reaction.

To see a city free of Starbucks, Orange Crush, Burger King, and new model Fords is a travel experience nearly impossible for any American, and well-worth the trip. Please don't believe Tattlin's description that it is squalor.

Tattlin does border on more meaningful sentiments, as when she says she will remember her staff always as she's driving away for the last time. But it's too little too late. I wanted to know her personal reactions to her staff. Why she did forgive the few thefts that happened in her home on her watch? Why did she feel conflicted (and I think she was) by the way she lived there?

You can be privileged, you can call your faithful staff "the help," you can travel back and forth to the U.S. and bring 400 lbs of provisions back to the food- and essentials-starved Cuba, but you cannot ignore the emotions, talent, beauty, and gifts this country has to offer.

I read 'Cuba Diaries' by "Isadora Tattlin" (pen name) a month ago and was compelled to write about it today as I look at various stories circulating on the Web about Fidel's broken kneecap (filed under the humorous title 'The Fall of Castro'). I loved Tattlin's book and so has everyone else who I've recommended it to. Others may criticize it as being the boring diary of a housewife with not much to say, but I think that misses the point. More than any other book I've read about Cuba, 'Diaries' seems to put you squarely in Havana by showing you the challenges of every day life. Granted, Tattlin and family are not every day Cubans - she's quite frank about her life of (comparative) privilege...but she does give you a true sense of how all Cubans must survive on guile and wit.

Additionally, I was fascinated by the way Tattlin chose to mask the identity of herself and husband 'Nick' described as being born in 'X' and then constantly referring to Nick's X-ian background, his X-ian associates, speaking X-ian to their children. I know you're thinking - boy, that must be annoying. It's not - I found myself intrigued and beguiled by the whole thing - trying to piece together what country it could possibly be (Eastern European is as close as I could come - and I'm not guaranteeing that's right).

Plus, as an added bonus there's a dinner at the Tattlin's house with Fidel as a guest. That chapter alone ought to make you buy the book - simply fascinating the details she imparts there...like Fidel arriving (in a phalanx of limos mind you) and immediately insisting on using the mirror as he enters the house. He stands there combing his hair (for over a minute!) while the hired help looks on raptorously (and the Tattlins think "what the...."?). There are tons of small observations like that one that make 'Diaries' a truly great read.

Tattlin's "Cuba Diaries" are a distinctive insight into the effects of the Cuban revolution that pervade Cuban society from the top down. Despite the unfortunate choice in title, I found this memoir of Tattlin and her family's Cuban sojourn fascinating.

The fact that Tattlin was allowed the opportunity to enjoy a distinctly privileged existence mingling at the highest levels of Cuban government and society is what is so illustrative about her recollections. While her struggles and frustrations are insignificant in light of the plight of the average Cuban, they illustrate (as the author recognizes) how pervasive and severe the deterioration of the Cuban infrastructure has been to the point where no one, at any level, is insulated from it.

"Cuba Diaries" is also noteworthy for the hypocrisy that it documents of the Socialist Revolutionary veterans who run the nation -- such as Castro's request for (and significant disappointment over the lack of) French wine at a dinner party, as well as the other specific, top shelf requirements his functionaries outline before he can be invited to dinner. Such expectations in the midst of the deprivations of the society as a whole are echoed in the author's experience with other government officials and reminiscent of Orwell's "Animal Farm".

Tattlin clearly develops a respect and appreciation for the Cuban people and their culture, and the beauty of the island. She recognizes the nation's decades long shortages have resulted in a parallel economy to circumvent a system that doesn't work,and has reduced many Cubans to seize occasional dishonest opportunities. This is illustrated when she becomes angry with Americans exploited by Cubans who she feels are not in a position to pass judgement lacking the experience of the daily frustrations and struggles of Cuban society.

An engrossing, and informative book. While it has an important message, it makes it with humor, understatement and irony -- it is not preachy or pedantic.

The American wife of a European energy consultant, Tattlin (a pseudonym) has lived all over the world, and her four-year sojourn in Cuba is an eye opener. There's the poverty, of course, but she knew about that. The average salary is $10 a month and Tattlin's packing list covers two pages and includes such things as 216 bars of soap and 48 liters of olive oil.

Partly Tattlin's fascination with Cuba is the feeling of being frozen in time; an industrial society stuck in the 1950s where cars and appliances slowly grind to a halt through rust and lack of parts and buildings crumble for want of maintenance. Partly it's the ingenuity of the Cuban people, bartering, scrounging, repairing and, of course, making the most of foreign tourists and residents. Workers in the tourist industry can earn two to three times the fixed government salaries of doctors, lawyers and professors. Partly it's the surreal feel of Castro's regime, liberalized during the mid-to-late '90s, but rife with uncertainty. A private, home-based restaurant, legal today, might be closed up tomorrow.

Tattlin lives in relative splendor, in a big house with plenty of servants. Her book takes its shape from the notes she took - short, often funny, often poignant, vignettes of daily living, from obtaining decent food (not at the state-run market), to Spanish lessons for the family and dancing lessons for her daughter and the servants' unwillingness to discipline her son or even tell her of infractions, like urinating in the library wastebasket. She describes the pleasures and hazards of travel in Cuba, hosting dinner parties for generals who know where the bodies are buried and, once, for Fidel - a frenzy of paranoid government prep with a curiously flat finale.

Most absorbing are Tattlin's connections with local people. She becomes involved in the lives of her servants, though she's near the end of her stay before she sees where several of them live. Slowly bits of their lives emerge - a stint as political prisoner or government spy, a sick wife, a knack for practical solutions. Tattlin befriends her children's teachers, area artists and intellectuals; ex-revolutionaries. She describes film festivals, spontaneous generation of long lines for rare items, back alley purchases, Santeria rites Over the years, some of the people she befriends disappear to America.

Her family appears only in glimpses, though Tattlin is free with her own feelings about things, from the complex categorization of skin color to a request for visa sponsorship to the discovery of a minor theft. Tattlin is funny, frank and warm. She doesn't want to be taken advantage of, though she quite understands why it's inevitable. Her anecdotal view of Cuba shows a witty and canny observer and her book should interest anyone curious about that shuttered island.

This is one of the worst books I've ever read. Rather than "an American housewife" in Havana, it should be touted as "a capitalist consumer" in Havana. Tattlin's view is one of privilege and naïveté, which would have been okay had the book been creative, informative or engaging. Sadly, it was full of complaints, misunderstandings and an unnecessary over-protectiveness. As an American who also lived in Cuba, Tattlin is the type of person I dreaded there the most, the modern day colonialist.

It makes me wonders who "Tattlin" knew in the publishing world to get a book deal.

About once a year I find a book good enough to read at one sitting. This is my book for the year. As the author of four books on Cuba, I'm intimately familiar with the island and perhaps for this reason found Tattlin's often humorous and always insightful masterpiece not only deliciously engaging, but also accurately reflective of the sultry sadness and spirited sensuality of a nation that after five decades of social experiment exists in its own irresistibly surreal twilight zone. She pulls no punches in laying the blame for Cuba's problems on the desk of the CEO. Tattlin shows us some eyebrow-raising insights into Fidel's personality and the sycophantic relationship with his inner entourage that she gleaned through several personal meetings she and her husband had with him. Despite her privileged lifestyle in Havana, she shows herself immensely versed in local realities and equally empaphetic to the plight of Cubans faced with their daily lucha (fight). My favorite anecdote, so succingly meaningful, regards the dead tarantula that Tattlin's two children had preserved in a jar for two weeks. When the spider suddenly comes to life, "It's a miracle!" Tattlin says to Miguel and Lorena, who were watching bemused. "Two weeks without air, food, or water." Miguel and Lorena shrug: "Es una tarantula cubana." Alas, her attempts to hide her identity (Isadora Tattlin is a pseudonym) and that of her husband (referred to irritatingly as an "X....ian") won't have fooled Cuban state security. A splendid edition to anyone's Cuba collection.

Something about the title made me expect to get a special insight into a temporary life as an American in Cuba. But the title is misleading. "Diary" implies personal insights, disclosure, a sharing of intimate reflections. Tattlin gives us vignettes, snapshots entertainingly presented- but no depth of insight into what affected her and how. She is also not a "housewife" in the usual sense, but more a "mistress of the household" as she oversees a staff of nine. Her husband, an "energy consultant," has been assigned to Cuba for four years in the early nineties, and Tattlin and two young children move in as well. The book details the adventures of a privileged woman exploring Cuba with her family while trying to ignore or negate the reality of Cuban deprivation. While some colorful scenes, humorous and ironic moments, and veiled political commentary are instructive about life in Cuba, the book doesn't present what it seems to promise. This is really a guide for wealthy Americans stuck on this Communist island trying to make the best of it. The most emotion we witness from Tattlin is when visitors from the U.S fail to bring Ziploc bags of the exact size Tattlin requested. She retreats, angrily, to her bathroom and soothes herself by repeating, "I am a privileged foreigner and I will be out of here someday." And indeed, it is that reality which guides her. She is generous to her help, and compassionate, but she sees Cuba as a hardship assignment to survive. The book has its entertaining anecdotes and is sympathetic to the locals doing what they need to to get by, but Tattlin's story is ultimately superficial, unemotional, and a rarefied way of experiencing an island in severe poverty, political turmoil, and despair. A more representative title would have been "I.B. Tattlin: Adventures of a Wealthy American Woman in Cuba and How I Survived Four Years There." That is the story she shares.

I have been to Cuba many, many times and Tattlin's book caught me rolling my eyes a bit. She tends to stretch the truth to make the book more interesting, or rather, she gives an unrepresentative portrayal of Havana. Life in Cuba may not be mansions and BMW's, but if you want to see real poverty take a trip over to Haiti, the DR, etc. etc......the difference between Cuba and the rest of Latin America is that in Cuba even the rich white foreign people have to struggle. The books shows a lack of perspective and frequently is pompous.

What is it about this magical island and its magical people that continues to enchant the world. This most European of all Latin nations, paradoxically also its most American-like and its most African - a grim Communist jail with eloquent flashes of joy and laughter amidst the misery of a repressed society. The author allows us to see Cuba through a foreigner's eyes, and while her lack of "Cubanosity" creates some odd reading at times, her Puritan observations do deliver some insight into this poor island with its long history of repression, bloody dictatorships and a wonderful people with worldly charms and vices. We discover Cuban pride, elegance, racism, poverty and even a bit about Fidel Castro. We read about what unites some Cubans and about the subtle racism of Cuban society, still run mostly by white Cubans in theoretically an equal society of this Communist dinosaur. The book succeeds in letting us observe Cuba through the eyes of a non-Cuban, and even in its failures, allows us to recognize what are hopefully the last gasps of a repressive society hopefully in its death gasps.