The NPR reporter offers an "engaging and enlightening" window into late-90s Cuba, "from the cafes in Havana to the mysterious lairs of Santiago de Cuba" (Kirkus Reviews).
For NPR commentator Andrei Codrescu, reporting from Cuba on the eve of Pope John Paul II's 1998 visit was an opportunity to understand the realities of life in a country that has long been the subject of stereotypes and misconceptions. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, Cuba was the last place to witness a "laboratory of pre-post-communism," as it toed the line between its socialist past and its uncertain future.
On the streets of Havana and the beaches of Santiago de Cuba, Codrescu met people from all walks of life--from prostitutes and fortunetellers to bureaucrats and writers--eager to share their stories. Uncensored and compassionate, his interviews reveal a world where destruction and beauty, poverty and pride exist side by side. Traveling with photographer David Graham, whose powerful images illustrate the energy pulsing through everyday life in Cuba, Codrescu captures the humanity of a nation that is lost when it's reduced to a political symbol. With the United States resuming relations with Cuba for the first time in decades, Ay, Cuba! is more relevant now than ever before.
Andrei Codrescu is a poet, novelist, essayist, and NPR commentator. His many books include Whatever Gets You through the Night, The Postmodern Dada Guide, and The Poetry Lesson. He was Mac Curdy Distinguished Professor of English at Louisiana State University from 1984 until his retirement in 2009.
Say you're going to write a book about music. Or, better yet, not even a book, but a review. You see a concert, you go to a show, you hear a song on the radio, and all of a sudden you are summoned to rehash your experience. Let's make it a song, just to keep it simple.
Sounds easy enough, until you realize that there are an infinite amount of things you could write about. You could reduce the song to its genre characteristics, discussing how the song either contributes to, advances, or woefully imitates conventional schadenfreude. You could discuss your personal reaction to the song, providing anecdotal references to support your case. You could approach the song from the perspective of an experienced musician, discussing the musicianship and technical prowess of the song's author or authors while relaying to the layman the difficulty of executing such a track. These are only but a few angles you could take.
But then you realize that not only are you attempting to objectively review, judge and critique someone else's work, but that by contributing to this dialogue, you yourself are opening yourself up to others only to be reviewed, judged and critiqued yourself. You want to write as objectively as possible, but the very judgement you render on a song or artist may bely your own limitations. Ideally, you approach the truth as closely as you possibly can, but then you remember that famous quote, "writing about music is like dancing about architecture."
Now try extrapolating this to your experience in a country. Not just any country, but a country that probably has more misunderstandings and enigmatic qualities per square inch than any other on earth. As such, Cuba is more like a post-modern version of an enigma: an image maintained out-of-focus by a photographer with a cautious eye. You may be able to focus the lens once in a while, but chances are you will end up missing almost everything in your pursuit for momentary clarity. Thus, the challenge is enormous.
A former professor once stated, "The longer you stay in Cuba, the less you really understand it." Andrei Codrescu's short stay in Havana was such a frighteningly articulate flash in the pan of clarity that I was able to overlook many of the things that he might have missed. He asked the right questions, talked to the right people, and generated such a deceptively clear picture of Cuba that I'm not even sure he really missed anything. His book is not so much about Cuba as it is about the confusion, bewilderment and enchantment that comes over most visitors as they wash up on her shores. It's not a review of a song, it's a meditation on the process of reviewing a song.
I hate to say it, but it is entirely possible that Ay, Cuba is a wholly terrible introduction to Cuba. Fortunately, it is a fascinating and charismatic elixir for the Cuban visitor's detox process. I recalled more moments, feelings and observations after reading his book than I ever had before over the last four years.
When the book is finally written on Cuban history in the latter half of the 20th century and into the 21st, it may shed light on our (the visitor's) utmost puzzlement. In the meantime, Ay, Cuba is about as good of a placeholder as you can hope for.
E minunat să afli ce-a făcut Andrei Codrescu în Cuba cu douăzeci și ceva de ani în urmă și cum era Cuba pe vremea când Andrei o vizitase. Asta-i chestia cu travel writing: oprește timpul pe loc, face ca spațiul să se lărgească. Mai ales când observatorul se dedică scrisului cu empatie. Cu haz dar fără a lua lucrurile în bășcălie. Și ce-i mai important - fără a ține predici!
Faptul e că mi-a plăcut cartea, deși mi-a tăiat din cheful de a merge în Cuba. Ghetoul turistic mi se pare o aiureală, iar viața reală - plină de pericole. Nici nu știi de ce să te ferești mai mult: de poliție sau de jineteros. Sigur, un time travel în lumea socialistă e o aventură pe cinste, dar Cuba lui Codrescu seamănă mai mult cu anii '90 din ex-URSS, o lume de care te bucuri că ai scăpat.
Desigur, sunt șanse ca în douăzeci de ani Cuba să fie altă mâncare de pește. Nu mai e condusă de Fidel. Și nici măcar de un Castro. Oare cum o fi?
"Cest pais est trop surrealiste pour y habiter". (This country is too surrealist to live in.) Andren Breton on a visit to Cuba. When Stalinist regimes began to fall in Eastern Europe in 1989, including in ex-pat Andrei Codrescu's Romania, one wag suggested Cuba be maintained as a Communist zoo. Visitors could gawk at poll booths where the Communist Party candidates won with 100% of the votes cast and marble at millions of people herded into the public plaza to shout pro-government slogans. That is the serio-comic view that Codrescu develops in these pages of a diary written in Cuba after just one visit. In fact, Andre finds that Communist zoo right wherever he goes. His bold thesis? "I have a theory that Communist countries resemble each other more than they do their capitalist neighbors, even if they speak the same language". Perfectly true. Cuba has more in common with North Korea than with Puerto Rico or the Dominican Republic, to say nothing of Florida. Codrescu begins his journey by pondering on the cult of personality surrounding Fidel Castro, "Just as Stalin is supposed to have written every book, Castro is credited with being an instant expert on everything, health care to women's rights". And, how about GRANMA, Cuba's national non-newspaper that only prints happy news of life under socialism "in a writing style that resembles valium". Andre is taken back by the Communists-in-training of Cuba's Young Pioneers, "with their red scarves around their necks, just like youth for Ceausescu in Romania". Nothing to see here. What does Andre find pleasing about the Cuban people? Their pluckiness in the face of officially sanctioned adversity and mediocrity. Young men cannibalize old American cars for spare parts, and then more parts out of the spares. Many women in Cuba have returned to the status they held before Castro's Revolution, cooks, barmaids and sadly, prostitutes. Cuba is once again an isle of sex tourism. Still, this allows them to flaunt their wealth in dollars and mock policemen behind their backs. Cuba is a country where everything is improvised and temporary; houses are in a state of collapse, so are marriages, buses never come for passengers,and tonight's dinner depends on scrounging for vegetables and little pieces of meat. Out of this make-shift society, self-reliant and proto-capitalist, Codrescu suggests, may come a future, better Cuba.
Having lived in central Florida during the Cuban Missile Crisis and watched as waves of refugees arrived in the US, Cuba is a country I’ve always been very curious about. Seeing it for the first time this spring left me feeling ambivalent and unable to sort out my impressions. In Ay Cuba, Andrei Codrescu, an NPR reporter who grew up in Communist Romania, gets it just right - the lovely people, the beautiful scenery, the embargo, the desperate poverty, the bankrupt political regime (abandoned by its former Russian benefactors), all the parts. Codrescu went to Cuba with two other NPR reporters in 1997 just ahead of the Pope’s visit. His book is a series of stories, interviews and political commentary that capture daily life and leave you hoping that relief is on the horizon - but change is slow despite the demise of ‘the bearded one’ last year. It's twenty years later and Cuba is still the same.
I will be visiting Cuba next January so am reading everything to prepare; however this was written before Fidel's death so I will try to find a more recent book to prepare for my visit.
I spent the first third of the book wondering why the writing style is so familiar-- turns out that I read his book about living in New Orleans (Mon Amour) almost ten years ago when I visited the city for the first time. Like that book, this one paints an immersive look into life in Cuba, with language that invokes a nostalgia in me for a place I otherwise have no connection to (remarkable!). Also, Codrescu's insights into socio-political perspectives in Cuba is very interesting, since he grew up in Soviet Romania. If you want to travel to a nearby island, experience the sounds, tastes, smells, and people, without leaving home, this is a fantastic book.
Andrei Codrescu is one-of-a-kind writer: compassionate yet untamed and at times hilarious. He sees Cuba through the lens of his own years growing up under Communism in Rumania and provides the reader with a richly provocative experience. You'll meet every-day Cuban people who are as unromantisized as they are unfogettable. Whether you're a liberal who is "soft" on Cuba or a conservative in favor of the embargo, you'll find this book--which teems with humanity--a fascinating read.
adult nonfiction. I was hoping that this would be more like a cuban version of behind the beautiful forevers, but in the end was not interested enough to get through it. Perhaps an audio version would be better, more like the engaging stories that NPR is known for, but alas such a thing does not appear to exist.
Codrescu is a global treasure. His trademark blend of inquisitive zest, candid rumination, and world-weary wit puts much other 'personal reportage' to shame. Here he's compiled a glossy, scattershot scrapbook of his experiences in Cuba -- not a linear read, and the photography is second-rate, but it's full of choose-your-own-adventure possibility.
Now that U.S. travel restrictions to Cuba have eased, it’s a hot destination - even more so this time of year! Condrescu provides an off -beat and amusing portrait of Cuba, sure to whet prospective travelers appetite for Cuban adventure.
Thank you to Open Road Integrated Media and NetGalley for an advance copy of this book.
This book presented a very interesting and realistic picture of Cuba and her people. I found this story fascinating, and very picturesque. The people are so hopeful, amid hunger and lack of necessities. I would like to visit Cuba, but I am not sure that I could handle the heat and rough hotel conditions.
interesting book to know people and life in Cuba through the eyes of special foreigners, who once lived in similar country...like the descriptions of jeniteros and jinetera... and cuba cigars and girls...