"Once she said that in this God-forsaken country, there are only zombies and sharks. All the real men are in the cemetery. Her lips draw back in disdain, and she spits on the ground, in the direction of the National Palace."
Dining with the Dictator, the sequel to the excellent An Aroma of Coffee, explores the life of the little boy from Petit-Goave who is now a teenager in Port-au-Prince. Living with his mother and numerous aunts, our narrator is no longer the sickly, innocent boy living with his grandmother. This novel begins within a sort of meta-narrative structure where the author is living in Miami, and while taking a bath, recounts a formative experience from April 1971, when Duvalier died.
Those searching for more continuity between this novel, translated by David Hormel, and An Aroma of Coffee, will find this tale has numerous literary allusions and quotations of the poetry of Magloire Saint-Aude, which thematically matches plot development over this weekend (structured like scenes in a film). Laferrière's novel also uses the streets, people, smells, rains, bars, and atmosphere of Port-au-Prince to create an additional character. So, those interested in Port-au-Prince in the literary imagination will be pleasantly surprised here, given how well fleshed out Port-au-Prince and its landmarks are in this short novel of an important date in Haitian history.
In addition to the narrator (a fictionalized version of the author himself), we have two "families" that are emblematic of Haiti under Papa Doc. For instance, the narrator's mother and aunt, keep secrets from each other, treat the teenage narrator like a little boy, worship his father (currently in exile), but they display a type of solidarity that Laferrière admires in the women who raised him. In contrast, the teen prostitutes living in the home of Miki across the street call themselves friends, but are constantly fighting, plundering men, as Choupette proudly proclaims. These young women protect the narrator, helping him on his sexual discovery and revealing another aspect of Duvalierist Haiti as the 1960s finally hit the island, to paraphrase Laferrière.
Given the text's praise for the surrealist nothing is quite as it seems, the lives of these young prostitutes are linked to the explosion of popular music, flashy sharks (the Tonton Macoutes), compas bands, nightlife, and a culture of fear and exploitation that cuts across both ways. The effects of Duvalier and the sharks pulling each other down collectively drags down upon Haitian society in this novel, yet the prostitutes are far from powerless. Indeed, gender relations are more complex than they seem, although violence against women is embedded in this world of sharks and zombies.
Though some may criticize the novel for not dealing enough with the state, or Duvalier himself, it's quite clear through the narrator's nightmarish dream of being tortured in Fort Dimanche, as well as the level of fear and spying going on among the people of Port-au-Prince, that the dictator has an all-seeing eye over the population. Furthermore, the relationship between Magloire Saint-Aude and Duvalier is another dimension of the text, demonstrating how things are never quite what they appear to be, whether that is a troubled, homeless youth leading a sheltered teen into trouble, the erotic escapades of young women searching for a flashy existence, or the absence of politics in the music of leading compas bands, such as Skah Shah.
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