Sweet Diamond Dust and Other Stories

Out of a desire to read more of Rosario Ferré's fiction, I decided to tackle her novella and related short stories contained in Sweet Diamond Dust and Other Stories. They are fascinating tales in that they clearly established the template for The House on the Lagoon and Eccentric Neighborhoods. Like those future novels, Sweet Diamond Dust is a multigenerational family drama in which a wealthy, landowning Puerto Rican family becomes a metaphor for the nation. Like the Vernets or the Mendizabals, the De La Valle family is riddled with all of the usual problems of gender, race, and class in a shifting Puerto Rican society (from the decline of the local sugar barons to industrialization and post-WWII migrations and political transformations). Unfortunately, some of her short stories are less compelling than the extended prose works, but, when combined, tell the story of a fictionalized Ponce (Santa Cruz) quite satisfactorily. 

Her satirical approach to Puerto Rican social relations in the "American Century" is rather priceless as it directly addresses the question of the rise and fall of the Puerto Rican gentry and bourgeoisie, and to what extent an independent Puerto Rico is viable. Despite our possible objections to the author's views on independence, which are perhaps best seen in the final short story, which imagines a Puerto Rico on the cusp of independence after the mainland government wishes to cease economic support, Ferré focuses on the interstitial spaces and shadows that connect across social classes. Like hidden black ancestors in the wealthy white family or the mixed-race nouveau riche, Ferré invariably focuses on these types of connections and their ways of uniting and dividing the "Puerto Rican family." 

While I did not enjoy the other stories as much as the novella within this collection, they are also quite experimental and polyphonic, taking the reader on a journey into the psyche of various characters from all social classes. There is a certain delight in reading of the rather extreme courses of action taken by some of these characters, particularly in their destructive actions which threaten the foundations of Puerto Rican society. Indeed, what more could accomplish this when Gloria and Titina burn the De La Valle home in the novella or the disastrous conclusion to the marriage of Don Augusto Arzuaga and Adriana? Or the solidarity of wealthy Mercedita with her friend, Carlotta? The instability and uncertainty of the narratives mirrors the ambiguous status of Puerto Rico.

Eccentric Neighborhoods

Eccentric Neighborhoods is quite similar to The House on the Lagoon,, but even more autobiographical. Elvira, the central character, is like the author in that both are from Ponce and have fathers who became governor of Puerto Rico. Of course, for this novel, Ferre changes the name of Ponce to La Concordia and surely fictionalizes several aspects of her own family's origins for a series of stories within a story about the Vernets and Riva de Santillana families. Since it lacks the narrative conceit of the more illustrious Lagoon, and Elvira is a less compelling character than Isabel, Eccentric Neighborhoods was less magical and a more arduous read. One finds the plethora of characters to be less engaging in Eccentric Neighborhoods, although both novels retain a strong focus on women, inter-generational gender dynamics, and the search for independence and autonomy. Needless to say, these concerns for the strong women in Ferre's novels mirror the condition of Puerto Rico in the 20th century. But perhaps due to the novel's greater autobiographical influences and its greater focus on Ponce and Puerto Rico's transformation from sugar to industrialization and the commonwealth (under a ficitonalized Marín), the novel provides a fascinating literary reconstruction of the lives of the criollo hacendado class and the rise of families like the Vernets, who wisely catch on to the New Deal and the future of industrialization. There is neither praise nor blame attached to the process, although the slums and destruction of the environment continue as Puerto Rico is thrust along into the 20th century (and Americanization). Eccentric Neighborhoods is truly a fascinating novel from a historical perspective,  immersing the reader in the various neighborhoods, architectural delights, and transformations of Ponce and the rest of the island. 

Reading Janvier Today

In light of recent political and social unrest in Haiti, it never hurts to pay attention to past analysts of Haitian woes. One such intellectual, Louis-Joseph Janvier, left behind a vast legacy in writings encompassing history, constitutional law, diplomatic relations, novels, journalism, and political commentary. His works provide an excellent opportunity to explore some of the persistent thorns in the history of the Black Republic: the peasant question, the color question, development, and forging a strong nation-state. Although Janvier's views of development and his vision for Haiti are more applicable to the time of bayonets rather than today, one cannot help but sense a parallel between the Haiti of today and the Haiti in the turbulent years leading to the first US Occupation. While the UN's MINUSTAH occupation has ended in name, it seems that the nation will continue in his phase of recurring instability for the foreseeable future. Perhaps it may take the form of another MINUSTAH, but these uncertain times call for those interested in Haiti's future to contemplate its past. Thus, Janvier remains relevant in the 21st century. And far more than a noirist, as he is often depicted, Janvier’s nuanced approach to race, class, and development deserve our scrutiny.

Janvier's Views on the Fundamental Question of Land

First, Janvier is important among 19th century Haitian writers for his explanation of Haiti's problems through class lens. Identified by Jean-Jacques Cadet as a Haitian intellectual influenced by socialism and Marxism, Janvier attributes the problems of Haiti to class war, a rural proletariat versus the owners of large estates, grand proprietors (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 483). According to Janvier's view of Haitian history, the assassination of Dessalines in 1806 prevented a veritable land distribution, leading to Goman's revolt for land reform in the Sud (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 488). Furthermore, Boyer's Code Rural was a later attempt to prevent the formation of a class of peasant proprietors, causing a class war (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 493). Indeed, Janvier compared Boyer's Code Rural to slavery because of its restrictions on the movements of paysans (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 149). This unpardonable error of Boyer ensured peasant uprisings of rural proletariats against the bourgeoisie (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 152). 

However, Armand Thoby argued against Janvier's presentation of the history of land reform in Haiti. For Thoby, a member of the Liberal party, it was under Pétion that smallholder agriculture was constituted (La Question agraire en Haiti, 18). Subsequent scholarship on land reform in Haiti tends to support Thoby's assertion, although Janvier did recognize Petion's land distribution policies as limited to a few carreaux for veterans (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 145). Nevertheless, Janvier's identification of class and access to land as key to Haitian peasant unrest, and recognition of the class character, was still accurate. As Alex Dupuy explains, rural Haiti in the 19th century was divided into sharecroppers who did not own land, peasants with land titles, 'middle-class peasants" with titles, and a "landed oligarchy" that rented out land or hired those less fortunate as sharecroppers and day laborers (Dupuy, "Class Formation and Underdevelopment in Nineteenth-Century Haiti," 22). 

For Dupuy, Haitian peasants had mostly controlled the means of production by the second-half of the 19th century, even though perhaps only 1/3 had legal titles. This gave peasants some degree of autonomy, and in areas where the landed oligarchy had more control over sharecroppers or workers, the profits accorded to the landed elites were still meager (Dupuy, 22). In this regard, Dupuy's observation on the limited surplus raised by bourgeois landholders in their exploitation of the peasant echoes Janvier's comment on the limited accumulation of capital in this dynamic of class relations (Janvier, La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 106). Nonetheless, an unequal relationship persisted and the question of access to land, as well as access to education and other economic reforms, ensured struggle over these questions in the future. The specter of Acaau and peasant uprisings haunted Haiti throughout the period of 1843-1915 and the caco uprisings during the US Occupation. 

The Haitian Peasant and the Haitian Worker

Janvier's views of the laboring classes were a combination of paternalism, nationalist pride, and positivist notions of progress. For Janvier, as for many other Haitian writers of his time, such as Beauvais Lespinasse, Firmin, Price, and Delorme, Haiti represented both Africa and la race noir as a civilized polity. Haiti represented black self-capacity to govern. Haiti was, for these writers, a 'Black France' in which Africa and her children were to be regenerated, rehabilitated, and prove to Europe racial equality. Indeed, Janvier identified Haiti as an argument, and Haiti's success was linked to this larger consistent theme of Haitian nationalism's unversalist implications for people of African origins (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 123). Thus, the Haitian worker and peasant, as the majority of the population, became a necessary focus to defend Haitian autonomy, vindicate the black race, and overcome Haiti's political and economic discord. 

Furthermore, without the Haitian working classes, there would be no Haiti. The peasantry made Haiti possible in the first place: "En Haiti c'est le paysan qui fait vivre tout le monde. Quand il ne travaille pas, quand il ne vend pas, quand il n'a pas d'argent, personne ne travaille, ne vend, n'achète, ne consomme, n'a d'argent" (Janvier, Les Affaires d'Haiti, 257). Everything in Haiti depended on the masses, making Janvier's populist vision's favorable views of the Haitian peasant and worker a rational focus. The Haitian peasant, in his response to Cochinant's bad press of Haiti, possessed admirable qualities: disciplined, obedient, fraternal, and gay (Les Affaires d'Haiti, 263). In addition, Janvier predicts the future superiority of the Haitian worker to that of Anglo-Americans because of the former's Latin blood, which imbues artistic, original, and charming features (La Republique d'Haiti et ses Visiteurs, 93). The Haitian worker was also generous, proud, sweet, likable, and patriotic (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 96). He even claimed the Haitian worker and peasant mostly abstain from alcohol (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 138). Drawing from Montesquieu, Janvier also argued that peasants work harder on their own land, pointing to successful examples in France and Romania (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 587). All these aforementioned traits, albeit exaggerated in some cases, suggest the degree to which Janvier identified peasants, workers, and artisans as key to refutation of racist discourses of the Black Republic. 

As a disciple of Pierre Lafitte immersed in Parisian intellectual circles, Janvier's Francophile orientation and positivist influences nonetheless shaped his views of the Haitian peasant. For instance, in Le vieux Piquet, a short novel of the lodyans genre, Janvier defended piquet uprisings as just, legitimate and sane struggles (Janvier, Le vieux piquet, 4). Piquet uprisings, beginning with Goman, were a response to the defeat of Dessalines's promise of land for the majority (Le vieux piquet 9). In this sense, the piquets were the true heirs of the Haitian Revolution. There is some moralizing of a paternalist nature in the novel, too. The narrator of the tale, the head of a lakou and former piquet, directs a message on morality to his grandchildren, urging them to spend less time dancing or avoid frivolous spending (Le vieux piquet, 32). The Protestant work ethic of Janvier's background was likely influencing this passage of the story, which defends piquets struggles for land but expecting peasant behavior to conform to certain standards that he perceived as necessary for social progress. In this sense, piquets were one of the steps in which the peasant could be freed of superstition and enrich the country (Janvier, Les Antinationaux, 97). They, after obtaining control of their lands, would enrich the state through their labor and dedication to the state.

Religion also played a pivotal role. For Janvier, Roman Catholicism was an obstacle to Haitian autonomy and tied to fetishism and fatalism among peasants. Protestant conversion, on the other hand,  was associated with moral reform of the popular classes (Les Affaires d'Haiti, 297). Protestantism would, he believed, support private initiative (Les Affaires d'Haiti, 307), another step forward in Haitian civilization. As one would suspect of an intellectual calling for Protestantism or free-thinking in Haiti, Vodou is another problem for the Haitian lower classes. As a positivist, he linked Vodou to fetishism and polytheism in the first stage in Comte's idea of 3 stages, comparing Vodou to the ancient beliefs of Greece and Rome (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 282). Using Ancient Egypt as an example, Janvier argued against fetishism as an impediment to advanced civilizations (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 281). Moreover, the Catholic Church was hardly less superstitious than Vodou in Janvier's eyes. Like Comte, Janvier saw in fetishism a possible way in which the fetishist could be more amenable to the positive stage. Firmin was likely thinking on similar lines in his description of African religions as practical rationalism (Firmin, The Equality of the Human Races, 342). Within their own internal logic, African 'fetishism' observes the world and responds to the results, within the dictates of its internal logic and observation of phenomena. For Comte, fetishism gave us the subjective method of thought (Comte, System of Positive Policy, Volume 2, 73). Comte later argued polytheism may be easier to adapt for positivism because of the Unity or synthesis of various deities into the shared Destiny, combining the former deities with natural laws (Comte, 89). Protestantism, perceived as subjective, intuitive, scientific, and full of initiative, would be better fit for Haiti to reach the positive stage (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 372). Even better, the Protestant wouldn't waste time on parties and Carnival (Janvier, Haiti aux haitiens, 36). 

Unsurprisingly, Janvier, as a Positivist worried about perceptions of Haiti fallen prey to African atavism, pushed for Protestantism and general education. Like Firmin, he utilized a quasi-Lamarckian explanation of Haiti's progress on the path of civilization  to prove the physical perfectibility of the noir (Janvier, Les detracteurs de la race noire et de la Republique d'Haiti, 47). The civilizing mission of Haiti thus improved the Haitian noir physically, culturally, and mentally. Haitian 'racial' mixture was also a part of this to Janvier, who claimed the Haitian black is almost always a sacatra (Les detracteurs de la race noire et de la Republique d'Haiti, 34). The Haitian, in Janvier's mind, was thus Afro-Latin, on the march toward progress, and with land for every peasant, assured to aid the nation on the path to political, economic, and social liberty. In the meantime, he denied the ongoing practice of Vodou, going as far as denying the old African dances were still practiced in Haiti (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 94). 

A Vision for Haitian Land Reform

After establishing Janvier's class-conscious explanation of Haiti's woes, the virtues and shortcomings of the Haitian peasantry, Janvier's plan for Haitian development deserves attention. As mentioned previously, Protestantism, education, and land reform were key to his vision. Protestantism as part of the moral reform, education for cultivation of the social body and aiding the progress of the nation, and land reform as the first step to ensuring this future. Land reform for Janvier often fixated on the 1883 law passed under Salomon. The 1883 decree gave state lands to those willing to cultivate crops for export, such as coffee or cacao or cotton. As noted by David Nicholls, this law also contained a clause which potentially opened up Haitian land to foreign ownership (Nicholls, Haiti in a Caribbean Context, 45). Janvier did not address this, possibly because of his political support for Salomon, who he depicted as a populist and friend of the peasant cause. In fact, in Le vieux piquet, a member of the narrator's family is named after Salomon, presumably because he championed the peasant cause (Le vieux piquet, 34). Janvier elsewhere defends Salomon as a true democrat (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 495). 

Contradictions of Salomon's presidency not withstanding, Janvier's economic model argued for local accumulation of capital through small proprietorship or peasant collectives (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 482). Obligatory education would accompany land reform (Janvier, L'Egalite des races, 8). Popular banks and access to credit  would help smallholders develop their farms and improve profits (Haiti aux haitiens, 14). New taxes would make possible mandatory general education and access to banks and credit for Haiti, including taxes on foreigners and land (Les Affaires d'Haiti, 310, 316). The aforementioned agricultural collectives would consist of state concessions to peasant associations where the members could meet their needs and grow crops for export (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 588). This form of collectivism drew on the 1801 Constitution of Toussaint Louverture (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 482). Yet, it also hints at a more sympathetic program for the peasantry's cooperative labor practices, like the coumbite. 

The infamous Article 7 of the constitution, prohibiting foreign ownership of land, was defended by Janvier as necessary to securing Haitian independence. He quoted from Pierre Lafitte as proof of the wisdom of the article for preventing powerful nations from taking over Haiti (La Republique d'Haiti, 364). Janvier even criticized sugar production as "aristocratic" and "esclavagiste" (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 465). His critique of attempts to return to refined sugar as a primary export was based on economic and social grounds, since he questioned how wise it would be to pursue an export already sufficiently produced on the international market which was inapplicable and against the interest of smallholder production. Clearly, Janvier's populist economic vision, prioritizing smallholder production and Haitian capital, represented an alternative path to development rather than subservience to foreign capital or a planter class.

On the Color Question

The identification of Janvier as a noirist by David Nicholls warrants commentary (Nicholls, From Dessalines to Duvalier, 113). Although Janvier’s populist leanings and accusations of color prejudice against Boyer, or Liberals, indicates a clear awareness of color as a factor in Haitian society, he also denied that blacks can be racist, claiming they are the first to suffer from racism (La Republique d’Haiti et ses visiteurs, 284). Moving beyond Janvier’s illogical conclusion on the question of blacks possessing color prejudice, he noted the presence of blacks and "mulattoes" in each of the two political parties (La Republique d’Haiti et ses visiteurs, 156). Like other Haitians writing with an eye to foreign readers, Janvier argued that colonial-era caste divisions had almost completely disappeared (Les detracteurs de la race noire et de la Republique d’Haiti, 49). Nonetheless, in Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 1801-1885, Janvier accuses Boyer of fomenting color prejudice, especially in his infamous Code Rural (Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 151). Furthermore, "mulattoes" who refused to recognize black authority were victims of atavism, a retrograde movement to the beliefs of their white ancestors (Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 292). On the question of the leadership of political leaders, color does not matter as long as the politician is responsible and competent (Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 294). 

In light of Janvier’s class-based understanding of Haitian society, referring to him as a noirist may misdirect one from the question of class. Granted, he did accuse members of the Liberal opposition and past regimes led by mulattoes of racial prejudice, but he also recognized “light-skinned” Salnave as a true democrat (Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 346). The political vision of Janvier, which he identified as a democratic one, consisted of land for peasants, uprooting superstition (of the European and African variety) and color prejudice and promoting progress (Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 295). Any Haitian leader, regardless of color, who pursued these aforementioned goals, was considered a democrat in Janvier’s conception of a democracy. Since he defined the popular classes as the base of the nation, and Haiti was and remains a “black” nation, the government should represent and act in the best interests of this majority. While Janvier’s narrative of Haitian land and class struggle employed terms like “paysan noir” frequently, his work refers to Haiti as an Afro-Latin society in which nearly everyone is racially and/or culturally mixed complicate easy or quick generalizations. “Noir,” in this context, was tied to Haiti’s larger mission or vocation for black civilization. 

In short, the insidious color question, a legacy of colonialism, was, to Janvier, in decline by the late 19th century and the political discord in Haiti was a result of class conflict and divergence on the question of foreign capital. Color may influence how historical actors perceived social, economic, and political conflict, but did not define or drive it. And Janvier, though not immune to attributing color prejudice to Boyer’s Code Rural, identified the struggles in Haiti as rooted in class, in terms of political economy. Part of his writings on the color question were undoubtedly aimed at Gobineau, Bonneau, Saint-Remy and Benjamin Hunt, authors who believed only or mainly mulattoes were fit to rule Haiti. 

A somewhat similarly-minded Haitian intellectual with an opposing view on the question of color, Emmanuel Édouard, who located class and economic causes for piquet uprisings, commented on the color question (Édouard, Essai sur la politique interieure d’Haiti: proposition d’une politique nouvelle, 40). Édouard, who identified the color question, labor and public instruction as the three problems of Haiti, also noted that in so-called color struggles, "mulattoes" always had black allies and vice versa (Édouard, 46, 64). He also claimed the color question was both a cause and effect of Haitian civil wars (Édouard, 103). For him, the future of Haiti lay with a democratic and progressive party that will bring together the best of mulattoes and blacks (Édouard, 113). What explains the diverging views of Janvier and Edouard? Perhaps the different audiences of their writings may play a role, but even Édouard, who names color as one of the pressing dilemmas, approaches it with nuance while calling for a new political party to improve education, agriculture, and end civil wars. One detects the idea, later adopted by Nicholls and Dupuy, for example, that the black and "mulatto" wings of the Haitian elite, who overlapped significantly on ideology, exploited color to suit their own interests and split the spoils with their partisans and foreigners. In the case of Janvier, one could argue that his vision of progress, which claimed that a Haitian leader did not have to be a noir in color (as long as they’re competent and committed to his populist-leanings), embraced this notion of partnership between the best of both "colors." 

Conclusion 

The relevance of Janvier's ideas should be clear for those in Haiti today. He identified class as key to Haiti's problems, anticipating Marxist analysis of Haitian society.  He elevated the importance of the worker in building a stronger nation, advocating a set of policies to realize that goal. Certain contradictions, such as his lack of comment on Salomon's opening of the National Bank with French capital, or his distorted view of the history of land redistribution to favor Dessalines and Salomon rather than Petion, call into question some of his political alignments and choices. His economic vision even overlapped somewhat with Edmond Paul, a member of the opposing Liberals. But one can surely read Janvier's work as falling somewhere along the continuum of what Jean Casimir identified as a counter-plantation system. As such, Janvier could be read as an intellectual for the masses, His benevolent paternalism and Francophile orientation predisposed him to a sometimes condescending stance on class, and in some cases, even minimizing the distance between the workers and the bourgeoisie. Yet, in spite of these contradictions, Janvier identified the legacy of 1804 in the piquets struggling for land and meaning. He foresaw the disconnect between rural Haiti and the urban elites, so painfully clear in Le vieux piquet, where the cries of peasants of the Sud are never heard by the elites of Jérémie. 

His economic nationalism, defense of piquet rebels, and familiarity with early sociology and socialism enriched his analysis of Haiti's woes in abundantly surprising ways. Although Jean-Jacques Cadet identifies within him a strain of socialism, Janvier is perhaps better seen as a positivist and liberal whose financial nationalism and populism incorporated socialist elements. His conception of the democratic state guiding the untutored masses demonstrated a connection with Delorme's notion of democracy as best functioning in view of the people rather than by the people, even going so far as defending Soulouque's empire, preferring despotism over anarchy (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 265). He elaborated his belief in a strong, centralized state for encouraging labor, security and avoiding anarchy, quoting Schopenhauer on the need for constitutions to contain a possibility of despotism to prevent lawlessness (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 492). 

Positivism's alleged benefits for women and the working-class, mainly in the latter, were self-evident in Janvier's writings on Haitian society, as was Comte's belief in the need to control property because of its social nature (Comte, General View of Positivism, 113). For Janvier, private property in the hands of peasants or peasant cooperatives needed to be taxed, but also provided with access to credit, banking, state-funded mandatory education, and social control under a benevolent state. The ability of the estate proprietor to exploit sharecroppers or landless workers would have been quite limited if Janvier's vision had been implemented, placing even more control on large estates by limiting their ability to find labor. In that regard, Janvier's populist views surpass that of Delorme, a fellow member of the National party and keen supporter of state intervention in promoting agriculture and acting in the best interests of the masses. Further study of his two full-length novels may also shed light on Janvier's place in Haitian literature, which could enrich our understanding of his political writings. Unfortunately, several of the aforementioned ideas were never implemented, or perhaps done so too late. They remain relevant to the 21st century as questions of sovereignty, social justice, and political reform continue to shape the Petrocaribe protests.

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Trouillot, Michel-Rolph. Haiti, State against Nation: The Origins and Legacy of Duvalierism. New York: Monthly Review Press, 1990

The House on the Lagoon

Although I could not finish The House on the Lagoon a year ago when I attempted to read it, this time it was a breezy and entertaining read. Telling the story of 20th century Puerto Rico through the wealthy San Juan-based Mendizabal family, the novel is ostensibly the manuscript of Isabel, describing the origins of the her and her husband's families from the Spanish-American War to the turbulent 1970s of independentist radicalism. As the daughter of a Puerto Rican governor and with somewhat of a similar background as Isabel, one assumes Rosario Ferre based some of the characters on people in her own life, while fictionalizing historical events in Puerto Rican history (such as the Ponce Massacre). There is a strong feminist undertone to the novel, which illustrates across class and racial boundaries the role of sexism in limiting the fate of women in Puerto Rican society, although the class and racial politics of Isabel, a "liberal," usually leave more to be desired.

The most interesting aspect of the novel are the Afro-Puerto Rican servants, living in the cellar of the titular house on the lagoon. Led by Petra, the daughter of African slaves from Guayama, who is a devotee of Eleggua and healer, the black characters, who link the elite Mendizabal family with the slums of Las Minas, are often in the shadows but reveal the racial domination built into Puerto Rican society. Petra, who lives in the house for over 50 years, has a special influence on Buenaventura Mendizabal, the "alleged" descendant of Francisco Pizarro, and her presence is the stone upon which the house on the lagoon endures and, eventually, falls. 

Her devotion to Eleggua and observation of African-derived rites and beliefs ultimately has a major influence on Isabel, and Eleggua, the intermediary communicator and guardian of the crossroads, seems to appeal to her. She cannot decide which political path to take (independence, statehood, commonwealth) or personal (remain with Quintin, continue her novel, or leave), and Eleggua, via Petra, becomes the bedrock of support and eventual decision-making. There is no elaborate description of Santeria or Afro-Puerto Rican spirituality here (and Isabel conflates Angolan and West African traditions somewhat lazily in her manuscript), but there is an undeniable presence of the orisha and Black Puerto Rico throughout the narrative. Indeed, even the lagoon or swamp and the nearby Lucumi Beach or Las Minas slum hint at the ever-present black past. 

While reading this, I could not help but recall Du Bois's Quest of the Silver Fleece, which also uses a swamp and hints of non-Christian African-American religion through the character of Zora. Or, without the swamp but similar attention to water and the sea, the works of Jorge Amado. Yet Ferre creates far more appealing and complex women characters while bringing Puerto Rican history to life. One should read this novel alongside Puerto Rico in the American Century.

Les Simulacres

Fernand Hibbert's final novel, Les Simulacres, is a short text satirizing the author's own social class in the context of the US Occupation (1915-1934). Published in 1923, when the author could not have foreseen exactly how the Occupation would conclude, it is often ambivalent about the American presence. This is not an anti-Occupation work like the novels of the 1930s, but more akin to Hibbert's earlier works satirizing the Haitian bourgeoisie for their vanity, corruption, venality, and mismanagement of Haitian political, social, and economic life. As a far shorter text than, say, Les Thazar, and a smaller cast at that, it does not quite succeed in satirizing every social type among the Haitian upper-class, though it does reintroduce past characters such as Brion and Gérard Delhi. Brion, as one would expect from events in Les Thazar, has not married, is perhaps bitter, and seems to be amused by the various foibles of his social class.

By reviving past characters, Hibbert's former mouthpieces from the ancien regime can return as the this tale mocks the foolish and arrogant Hellénus Caton. Caton, a former politician who became wealthy through graft and corruption before the Occupation, is now ardently opposed to the Americans (but only due to their refusal to consider him for the post of president). Being a Simulacre means one who uses "mensonges derrière lesquels les hommes masquent la vérité, ou leur intérêts et leurs appétits." He falls prey to a Cuban swindler who proceeds to conjure a story of occult knowledge and miracles so that he has an excuse to get close to Cephise, Caton's beautiful wife. Needless to say, Pablo Alcantara makes a fool of Caton, having him wait outside in the middle of the night, nude, looking at the moon, while he proceeds to make love to his wife for seven consecutive nights. In short, this is the basic plot of the text, a Cuban foreigner swindling a Haitian bourgeois male of wealth and women. Brion, as perhaps the only redeeming bourgeois, intervenes to ensure a (somewhat) happy ending in which Cephise stays with her husband, but Caton never recovers.

Like Brion in Les Thazar, Caton cannot compete with the foreign male, although in this case Pablo Alcantara is not a successful German but another faker, from a country also under the tutelage of the US. Since Hibbert was the Haitian consul in Cuba, one can presume his use of a Cuban Simulacre is itself part of the text's anti-imperialist critique, as Pablo Alcantara knows very well how Cuba, like Haiti, is a pawn in the US Empire. Hibbert, stationed in Santiago de Cuba, would have known very well the degree to which US influence was paramount in the neighboring Caribbean nation, and may have possessed solidarity for Cubans based on past alliances against imperialism before Cuban independence. Perhaps Hibbert was trying to suggest, much like Naipaul several decades later, how the people of the Caribbean have become mimic men, lacking in proper comportment as befits independent people of independent nations. Pablo Alcantara, much like Caton, is another such case, exploiting the ignorance and credulity of others in much the same way Caton and his ilk have done similar actions in Haiti before the US Occupation. Thus, Pablo Alcantara is an interesting type of foreigner in the works of Hibbert, possibly a callback to the various Caribbean peoples represented on the ship en route to France in Séna. He likewise represents a change in the Haitian elite perception of Cubans as positive immigrants in Haiti, since he does not produce, teach, apprentice, or employ anyone.

As is the case with Les Thazar, most of the plot advances through the dialogue of these aforementioned characters (plus their domestics and a few additional acquaintances). So it is often through their exchanges that much of the novel's humor derives. These conversations entail Cato the Younger, ancient Rome's rise and fall, Creole and French in Haitian literature, the Cuban passion for love and duels, education and literacy campaigns, the motivations of the Occupation (to build a naval base?), the lack of unity among Haitians, and the lack of rain in Port-au-Prince. The novel's final chapter addresses the reader, specifically the Haitian mother, to raise their children to obey and never lie, to produce a better generation of citizens and ensure the survival of the nation. Using Rome, imperial Germany, tsarist Russia, and the "Orient" as examples of what happens when the lack of liberty takes hold and injustice prevails, leading to social decay or ruin, the novel adopts a direct moralizing tone. While this detracts from the bitterly satirical tone of the rest of the text, it makes it clear how the US Occupation, in the eyes of Hibbert, has not uprooted the Simulacres and fakers, and a return to ancien regime ways will lead down a path toward destruction.

Needless to say, Hibbert's account does not include the caco resistance or nascent unrest from the peasantry or lower classes. The Haitian workers in Cuba, with whom Hibbert was fully aware, do not enter into the picture despite Cuban emigration being a key aspect of the US Occupation's influence. A communist revolution or "Grand Soir" of Delhi are only mentioned humorously, suggestive of the venal and ignorant nature of Caton and the fear of popular revolt. So one presumes that Haiti's salvation will be found among the non-Simulacre of the elite. They alone will be able to direct the nation progressively during and after the occupation and ensure a return to full liberty of the press and other rights. They, and only they, can ensure expanded primary education and adult literacy, with the recent example of Lunarchsky in the Soviet Union cited positively. Unsurprisingly, Hibbert's Simulacres is thus a continuation of the same class and gender politics of his early novels, but accompanied by a heightened sense of alarm at the prospects of national survival if the Simulacres are not held at bay after the Americans leave. Unfortunately, the Simulacres never left after 1934...