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.

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.