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Published 11 May 2022
French paperback with flaps, 336 pages
POST-CASTRO CUBA, AN APPROXIMATION
It is 17 December 2014. Barack Obama and Raúl Castro are announcing to the world that, after fifty-three years of hostile rift, the United States and Cuba are restoring diplomatic relations. Needless to say, this news is not as momentous to Americans as it is to Cubans. Hence the fact that the announcement leaves no gringos bewildered, wondering what is happening and what will happen next.
Cubans, on the other hand – we who effortlessly make an epic of the everyday, who don’t hesitate to declare the slightest skirmish or governmental whim a historic event – are instantly eaten up by questions, and frantically searching for some kind of clarity in our neighbours’ opinions in a way we never have before.
In the meantime, something exists that should not. Something that, in its present form, is unsustainable. A state of mind, perhaps: indecision, inertia, amnesia. Or the run-of-the-mill commonplace: our Cold War mindset, our deeply ideological sentimental education, a boundless bureaucracy, a ravaged social infrastructure. Beautiful, punch-drunk people that we are. In an attempt to take no risks, Cuba took the greatest risk of all: it took none. As though the government has spent decades instilling in us the belief that the historical race we were running was a marathon, only to suddenly decide, with the beginnings of the thaw, that actually it wasn’t. The distance was – and is – a hundred-metre sprint, and we were competing against a country guilty of doping.
The first great test of the schism that has just riven the Cuban people can be found in our psyche. Here was something that would not only change the course of our economic, cultural and social realities, which in itself was more than enough, but that forced us to reinvent our language, the words we commonly used, the concepts to which we had adapted ourselves as a nation. Official policy abruptly changed, and with it the relationship and the discourse each of us had with that power, whatever the feelings it inspired in us: trust, love, hatred, disappointment, enthusiasm, revulsion. On Mesa Redonda (the televisual incarnation of official Cuban policy), the talking heads who, only a week earlier, were still referring to the United States as an ‘imperial force’, now, with an equanimity verging on effrontery, used the word ‘neighbour’.
And they were right after all. From then on, the United States was to be our neighbour. A notion that, if voiced by some reckless soul as recently as last night, would have earned them the shameful label antipatriotic. The lines so routinely trotted out in history books: ‘Such-and-such a country went to bed Capitalist and woke up Communist,’ or ‘such-and-such a region went to bed feudal and woke up bourgeois,’ was literally true in this case. Once upon a time, Cuba had cherished the magnificent dream of the Revolution, and our tragedy stemmed from the attempt to prolong that dream. After a long, protracted suspension spanning five decades, we woke to find the great ontological questions once again rattling around our brain: how are we going to contend with the United States? What will come of this struggle? Will our country be better or worse?
Teeming with life and compulsively readable, the pieces gathered together in The Tribe aggregate into an extraordinary mosaic of Cuba today. Carlos Manuel Álvarez, one of the most exciting young writers in Latin America, employs the crónica form – a genre unique to Latin American writing that blends reportage, narrative non-fiction, and novelistic forms – to illuminate a particularly turbulent period in Cuban history, from the re-establishment of diplomatic relations with the US, to the death of Fidel Castro, to the convulsions of the San Isidro Movement.
Unique, edgy and stylishly written, The Tribe shows a society in flux, featuring sportsmen in exile, artists, nurses, underground musicians and household names, dissident poets, the hidden underclass at a landfill, migrants attempting to make their way across Central America, fugitives escaping the FBI, dealers from the black market, as well as revelers and policemen in the noisy Havana night. It is a major work of reportage by one of Granta’s Best of Young Spanish-Language novelists.
‘There is magic in these pages…[T]his book tells the actual story of Cuba as it exists today.’
— Jon Lee Anderson
‘Álvarez does not try to instruct or speculate. He does not write on whether the Revolution succeeded or failed. He does not determine whether the leader was a hero or a tyrant. His book is not an explanation: it is …. the history of a country told through its people.’
— María Teresa Hernández, AP News
Born in 1989, Carlos Manuel Álvarez is a journalist and author. In 2013 he was awarded the Calendario Prize for his collection of short stories La tarde de los sucesos definitivos and in 2015 he received the Ibero-American Journalism Prize, Nuevas Plumas, from the University of Guadalajara. In 2016 he co-founded the Cuban online magazine El Estornudo. He regularly contributes to the New York Times, Al Jazeera, Internationale, BBC World, El Malpensante and Gatopardo. In December 2016 he was selected among the best twenty Latin American writers born in the 1980s at the Guadalajara Book Fair in Mexico and in May 2017 he was included in the Bogota39 list of the best Latin American writers under 40. In 2021 he was named in Granta's Best of Young Spanish-Language Novelists list. The Tribe, his first book, appeared in 2017 with Sexto Piso. He is also the author of two novels, The Fallen (Fitzcarraldo Editions, 2019), and Falsa Guerra (forthcoming with Fitzcarraldo Editions.)
Frank Wynne has translated works by authors including Michel Houellebecq, Patrick Modiano, Virginie Despentes, and Jean-Baptiste Del Amo. His work has earned many awards, including the IMPAC Prize, the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, and the Premio Valle Inclán.
Rahul Bery is based in Cardiff and translates from Spanish and Portuguese into English. He has translated novels by Afonso Cruz, David Trueba and Simone Campos and his shorter translations have been published in the TLS, The White Review, Words Without Borders, Granta and elsewhere. He was the British Library's translator in residence from 2018-2019 and his translation of David Trueba's Rolling Fields was shortlisted for the 2021 Translator's Association First Translation Prize.
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