Soon it wasn’t so strange that everyone was speaking in English instead of Spanish. I learned not to hear it as English, but as sense. I no longer strained to understand, I understood. I relaxed in this second language. Only when someone with a heavy southern or British accent spoke in a movie or when the priest droned his sermon—only then did I experience that little catch of anxiety. I worried that I would not be able to understand, that I wouldn’t be able to “keep up” with the voice speaking in this acquired language. I would be like those people from the Bible we had studied in religion class, at the foot of an enormous tower that looked just like the skyscrapers all around me. They had been punished for their pride by being made to speak some slightly different version of the same language so that they didn’t understand what anyone was saying.
But at the foot of those towering New York skyscrapers, I began to understand more and more—not less and less—English. In sixth grade, I had one of the first of a lucky line of great English teachers who began to nurture a love of the language, a love that had been there since a childhood of listening closely to words. Sister Bernadette did not make our class interminably diagram sentences from a workbook or learn a catechism of grammar rules. Instead, she asked us to write little stories imagining we were snowflakes, birds, pianos, a stone in the pavement, a star in the sky. What would it feel like to be a flower with roots in the ground? If the clouds could talk, what would they say? She had an expressive, dreamy look that was accentuated by her face being framed in a wimple. Supposing, just supposing … My mind would take off, soaring into possibilities, a flower wit roots, a star in the sky, a cloud full of sad sad tears, a piano crying out each time its back was tapped, music only to our ears.
Sister Bernadette stood at the chalkboard. Her chalk was always snapping in two because she wrote with so much energy, her whole habit shaking with the swing of her arm, her hand tap tap tapping on the board. “Here’s a simple sentence: The snow fell.” Sister Bernadette pointed with her chalk, her eyebrows lifted, her wimple poked up. Sometimes I could see little bits of gray hair disclosed by her wobbly habit. “But watch what happens if we put an adverb at the beginning and a prepositional phrase at the end: Gently the snow fell on the bare hills.” I thought about the snow. I saw how it might fall on the hills, tapping lightly on the bare branches of trees. Softly it would fall on the cold cold fields. On toys children had left out in the cold, and on cars and on little birds and on people out late walking on the streets. Sister Bernadette filled the chalkboard with snowy print, on and on, handling and shaping and moving the language, scribbling all over the board until English, those little bricks of meaning, those little fixed units and counters, became a charged, fluid mass that carried me in its great fluent waves, rolling and moving on-ward, to deposit me on the shores of the only homeland. I was no longer a foreigner with no ground to stand on. I had landed in language.
I had come into my English.
Reading and Discussion Guide
Author
Julia Alvarez was born in New York City in 1950. When she was three months old, her family moved to the Dominican Republic, where she spent the first ten years of her life. Her family enjoyed a relatively affluent lifestyle there but was forced to return to the United States in 1960, after her father participated in a failed coup against the Dominican military dictatorship. This experience would later inspire her first novel, How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents. After high school, Alvarez continued her education at Connecticut College, Middlebury College, and Syracuse University. Having earned a master’s degree, she took on a variety of jobs, including serving as the writer-in-residence for the Kentucky Arts Commission and teaching English and creative writing at California State University, the University of Vermont, George Washington University, and the University of Illinois. In 1996, she was promoted to full-time professor at Middlebury College but resigned the position in 1998 in order to devote her time to writing.
Alvarez’s work is strongly informed by her own experiences, in particular her movement between the Dominican Republic and the United States and the resulting feelings of displacement and alienation. How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents is widely regarded as the first major novel in English by a Dominican author. Like much of Alvarez’s writing, it explores the immigrant experience and the ways in which it is shaped by gender and class. Her work also illuminates the cultural divides between the United States and the Caribbean world. These cultural tensions shape how she sees writing and the role of the storyteller:
As storytellers we belong to the human family, but as individuals we belong to families, particular communities, we live in relationships, bound to individuals, and they often want us to tell stories that promote and affirm their point of view or their “take” on the world. But we fail in our mission as storytellers if we try to be spokespersons or apologists for any one point of view. Our task is to tell the truth, “manifold and one”—a quote by Joseph Conrad I’ve always loved! And this means that we often present not just the one truth, our tribe’s truth, but the manifold truth, which includes the complexities, competing realities of any situation. That may feel like a betrayal of what we “owe” our families, communities, our particular tribe. (http://labloga.blogspot.com/2OO7/08/interview-with-julia-alvarez.html)
Alvarez lives with her husband in the “Latino-compromised” state of Vermont and travels to the Dominican Republic frequently. She helped create and remains involved with Alta Gracia, a farm and literacy center dedicated to the environmentally sustainable growth of organic coffee and the promotion of literacy and education.
Summary
This novel is structured in three sections, which are arranged in reverse chronological order. Part I, which takes place between 1989 and 1972, focuses on the adult lives of the Garcia sisters. Yolanda, who narrates several of the stories in first person, becomes the focus of the book. The first chapter, “Antojos,” deals with Yolanda’s return to the Dominican Republic as an adult and her interactions with her family there. “The Four Girls” introduces the sisters and their relationships more thoroughly and establishes their deep sense of family unity as they gather to celebrate their father’s birthday. “The Kiss” focuses on Sofia, when their father discovers a collection of love letters addressed to her from a stranger. Outraged, he confronts her, and she runs off with her German lover. “The Rudy Elmenhurst Story,” the last of part i, is also narrated by Yolanda, as she tells the story of her first real relationship and the difficulties she faced in trying to find someone who under-stood her immigrant background and personal identity.
Part 2, set between 1970 and 1960, deals with the family’s experience as recent immigrants to the United States. “A Regular Revolution” describes the sisters7 initial reaction to life in the United States. While they initially find it uncomfortable and foreign and regularly pray to return home, they soon adjust and actually find themselves dreading summers in the Dominican Republic. “Daughter of Invention” is about Mami, her frustrated creativity, and her dreams for Yolanda’s future. The third story, “Trespass,” is about Carla’s experience dealing with racist attitudes at school as well as being confronted with some of the more seedy and unsavory aspects of urban life. “Snow,” the shortest story in the book, is about a young Yolanda’s fears during the Cuban Missile Crisis. The final story, “Floor Show,” takes place during dinner with friends at a Spanish restaurant, during which Laura witnesses an odd interaction between her father and the host’s wife.
Part 3 presents the sisters as young children during the period between 1960 and 1956. While they live a life of privilege in the Dominican Republic, trouble brews as their father becomes involved in a plot against the military dictatorship that runs the country. “The Blood of the Conquistadores” opens with government agents bursting into the Garcia home in search of Carlos. His antigovernment activities have made his family a target, and while they escape immediate danger, they are forced to emigrate quickly to New York. “The Human Body”
contrasts Yolanda’s childhood education and creativity with the brutality of the political regime running her country. “Still Lives” deals with Sandi’s artistic talent and the ways in which creativity is shaped during childhood. Taking place during the Christmas holidays, “An American Surprise” tells the story of the Christmas gifts Papi brings back from New York for his girls and the impressions they get of the United States based upon the gifts. The final chapter, “The Drum,” is told by Yolanda. She recalls her own Christmas gift, a drum, the discovery of a litter of stray cats, and the ways her life changed when the family moved to New York.
Questions for Discussion
1. The storyline in How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents is arranged in reverse chronological order. How does this structure affect the overall narrative?
2. Part of the heading for each chapter is the name of the daughter or daughters who provide the focus and viewpoint. How does this affect the way you read the book and the ways the characters develop?
3. What does the book have to say about the relationships between men and women? Is this affected by time and geography, that is, the Dominican Republic vs. the United States, or the 19508 as compared with the 19708?
4. How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents addresses generational differences among the girls, their parents, and their grandparents. How do these appear in individual episodes and in the overall narrative?
5. Love, marriage, and the many manifestations thereof appear throughout this story. Is there an overall message or theme that stands out?
6. Due to the structure of the book, the reader first encounters the adult Garcia sisters, who struggle with Spanish during trips to the Dominican Republic and are far more comfortable with life in the United States. As the novel progresses backward through time, their younger selves are gradually revealed, and you see them struggle with life in the United States and dread immigration to the new country. What messages does the book have about the immigrant experience? Does the book’s organization affect that message?
7. Sexuality remains a complex, and often unspoken, part of many of the stories in How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents. How does it manifest itself? Why does it remain un-spoken or, alternately, burst to the surface?
8. Why did Alvarez choose How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents as the title? Is “losing one’s accent” a metaphor for the immigrant experience? Does “losing one’s accent” perhaps also include self-definition and individual identity?
9. The parents of the girls work very hard to ensure that their family remains close, and close to its roots. How do the girls react to these efforts? Do Mami and Papi necessarily succeed the way they intend?
10. Both as an abstract and in reality, the United States looms large in this book. How do the characters’ impressions of and ideas about the United States change throughout the book? What causes these changes?
11. The girls’ father undergoes as many changes and challenges as the other characters. How is he presented throughout the book? How does he change, and why? In what ways does his changing character affect the life of the family?
12. History—of the family, of the Dominican Republic, and of the United States—is a large part of the subtext of the stories. How do the characters react to these various histories, both familial and national? How does history shape the lives of the family members?
13. The Garcia girls are assigned a wide variety of nicknames throughout the book. What are the sources of these nicknames, and how do they affect the characters who bear them? In particular, how does Yolanda react to some of the names that are given to her?
Further Reading
Fiction
SANDRA CISNEROS, Cammelo (2003)
Cisneros follows the lives and fortunes of the Reyes family, from their origins in Mexico through their immigration to the United States and the lives they shape for themselves there. Told as a series of stories collected by Celaya Reyes, a first-generation Mexican-American girl, Caramelo combines these diverse tales into a comprehensive story that deals with ethnic and gender identity and the process of self-definition. The book is steeped in the history of both nations, and includes many footnotes and a timeline of U.S.-Mexican history.
JUNOT DIAZ, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (2007)
On the surface, Díaz’s novel is the story of the eponymous hero, an overweight, “lovesick ghetto nerd” Dominican boy growing up in New Jersey. Upon closer examination, however, it becomes the story of three generations of a family as well as an exploration of cultural identity. Steeped in the history and myth of the Dominican Republic, and reflecting the experiences of Dominicans in both the United States and their home country, this novel offers insights into the immigrant experience that complement Alvarez’s story.
CRISTINA GARCÍA, Dreaming in Cuban (1993)
García’s first novel weaves together strands of story and memory to explore the life of a Cuban family both at home and in exile in the United States. Three generations of del Pino women and their often-troubled inner lives are explored against the backdrop of revolution and change in two countries. Dreaming in Cuban offers insight into the lives and challenges of Cuban women and their immigrant experience.
JHUMPA LAHIRI, Interpreter of Maladies (2000)
Lahiri’s collection of short stories deals with many of the same themes found in How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents. The characters, displaced from their homeland, find them-selves struggling to adapt to new circumstances while dealing with the weight of their own history. Love, tradition, illness, and family are among the ideas Lahiri explores in Interpreter of Maladies.
Nonfiction
EDWIDGE DANTICAT, Brother, I’m Dying (2007)
One day in 2004, Danticat learned that she was pregnant with her first child and that her father was terminally ill. Using these events as a framework, she begins a memoir that explores the story of her family, from her parents’ life in Haiti and her own childhood there to the family’s immigration to the United States. Both personal and political, Brother, I’m Dying touches on family history, national tragedy, and the nature of identity.
The Reading and Discussion Guide was provided by EBSCO Publishing readers’ resource Novelist—all rights reserved. NoveList is available at most public libraries.
Praise for How the García Girls Lost Their Accents
“A clear-eyed look at the insecurity and yearning for a sense of belonging that are a part of the immigrant experience … Movingly told.”
—The Washington Post Book World
“Extraordinary … The voice of personal and political history as it lives now.”
—The Bloomsbury Review
“Simply wonderful.”
—Los Angeles Times
“[A] tender, charming book … There is a charge to Alvarez’s writing, a poetic intensity, that is truly original.”
— The Miami Herald
“She has … beautifully captured the threshold experience of the new immigrant.”
—The New York Times Book Review
“The Hispanic Joy Luck Club … A luminous poem, rich and dreamy as a slow samba. A+.”
—Entertainment Weekly
“Delightful.”
—Cosmopolitan
“In a subtle but powerful way it reveals the intricacies of family, the impact of culture and place, and the profound power of language.”
—The San Diego Tribune
“[A] joy to read”
—The Cleveland Plain Dealer
“Lovely and intimate.”
—The Houston Post
“Brilliant … A tour de force.”
—Commonweal
“One of the most delightful novels of the year.”
— San Francisco Chronicle
“Surprises us with vivid, poetic language.”
— The Philadelphia Inquirer
“Elegant and earthy prose … A distinctive new voice.”
—McCall’s
“Heartwarmi
ng … It is a pleasure to read about these high-spirited Caribbean women.”
—San Antonio Express-News
“Refreshing … A remarkable climb up a family tree.”
—Baltimore City Paper
“[Alvarez] enchants the reader while spinning her web of wonder.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“A warm and believable family portrait … Often hilarious.”
—Arkansas Gazette
“Spirited.”
—The Nation
“Exquisite … Alvarez makes magic and art of the human odyssey, finding wonder and faith amid the world’s confusion and ignorance.”
—The Virginian-Pilot and Ledger-Star
“Delightful, original.”
—The Washington Times
“A kind of Dominican-American ‘Little Women.’”
— The Raleigh News and Observer
“An impressive talent … A tragicomic voice whose accent is happily her very own.”
—Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel
“Alvarez writes with compassion, sensitivity and humor to tell the story of a family.”
—Roanoke Times and World-News
“The powerfully bittersweet story of four lives.”
— The Arizona Daily Star
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