In the Time of the Butterfliesby Julia Alvarez
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It is November 25, 1960, and three beautiful sisters have been found near their wrecked Jeep at the bottom of a 150-foot cliff on the north coast of the Dominican Republic. The official state newspaper reports their deaths as accidental. It does not mention that a fourth sister lives. Nor does it explain that the sisters were among the leading opponents of Gen. Rafael Leonidas Trujillo’s dictatorship. It doesn’t have to. Everybody knows of Las Mariposas—“The Butterflies.”
In this extraordinary novel, the voices of all four sisters—Minerva, Patria, María Teresa, and the survivor, Dedé—speak across the decades to tell their own stories, from hair ribbons and secret crushes to gunrunning and prison torture, and to describe the everyday horrors of life under Trujillo’s rule. Through the art and magic of Julia Alvarez’s imagination, the martyred Butterflies live again in this novel of courage and love, and the human cost of political oppression.
"A magnificent treasure for all cultures and all time." St. Petersburg Times
"A fascinating and powerful picture of a family and a nation’s history." The Dallas Morning News
"A gorgeous and sensitive novel . . . A compelling story of courage, patriotism and familial devotion." People
"Imagination and history in sublime combination . . . Read this book for the novel it is. Read this book for the place it takes you. Read this book and take courage." The Denver Post
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Read an Excerpt
In the Time of Butterflies
By Julia Alvarez
Turtleback Books Distributed by Demco MediaCopyright ©1995 Julia Alvarez
All right reserved.
She is plucking her bird of paradise of its dead branches, leaning around the plant every time she hears a car. The woman will never find the old house behind the hedge of towering hibiscus at the bend of the dirt road. Not a gringa dominicana in a rented car with a road map asking for street names! Dedi had taken the call over at the little museum this morning.
Could the woman please come over and talk to Dedi about the Mirabal sisters? She is originally from here but has lived many years in the States, for which she is sorry since her Spanish is not so good. The Mirabal sisters are not known there, for which she is also sorry for it is a crime that they should be forgotten, these unsung heroines of the underground, et cetera.
Oh dear, another one. Now after thirty-four years, the commemorations and interviews and presentations of posthumous honors have almost stopped, so that for months at a time Dedi is able to take up her own life again. But she's long since resigned herself to Novembers. Every year as the 25th rolls around, the television crews drive up. There's the obligatory interview. Then, the big celebration over at the museum, the delegations from as far away as Peru andParaguay, an ordeal really, making that many little party sandwiches and the nephews and nieces not always showing up in time to help. But this is March, !Marma Santmsima! Doesn't she have seven more months of anonymity?
"How about this afternoon? I do have a later commitment," Dedi lies to the voice. She has to. Otherwise, they go on and on, asking the most impertinent questions.
There is a veritable racket of gratitude on the other end, and Dedi has to smile at some of the imported nonsense of this woman's Spanish. "I am so compromised," she is saying, "by the openness of your warm manner."
"So if I'm coming from Santiago, I drive on past Salcedo?" the woman asks.
"Exactamente. And then where you see a great big anacahuita tree, you turn left."
"A ... great ... big ... tree ...," the woman repeats. She is writing all this down! "I turn left. What's the name of the street?"
"It's just the road by the anacahuita tree. We don't name them," Dedi says, driven to doodling to contain her impatience. On the back of an envelope left beside the museum phone, she has sketched an enormous tree, laden with flowers, the branches squirreling over the flap. "You see, most of the campesinos around here can't read, so it wouldn't do us any good to put names on the roads."
The voice laughs, embarrassed. "Of course. You must think I'm so outside of things." Tan afuera de la cosa.
Dedi bites her lip. "Not at all," she lies. "I'll see you this afternoon then."
"About what time?" the voice wants to know.
Oh yes. The gringos need a time. But there isn't a clock time for this kind of just-right moment. "Any time after three or three-thirty, four-ish."
"Dominican time, eh?" The woman laughs.
"!Exactamente!" Finally, the woman is getting the hang of how things are done here. Even after she has laid the receiver in its cradle, Dedi goes on elaborating the root system of her anacahuita tree, shading the branches, and then for the fun of it, opening and closing the flap of the envelope to watch the tree come apart and then back together again.
* * *
In the garden, Dedi is surprised to hear the radio in the outdoor kitchen announce that it is only three o'clock. She has been waiting expectantly since after lunch, tidying up the patch of garden this American woman will be able to see from the galerma. This is certainly one reason why Dedi shies from these interviews. Before she knows it, she is setting up her life as if it were an exhibit labeled neatly for those who can read: THE SISTER WHO SURVIVED.
Usually, if she works it right-a lemonade with lemons from the tree Patria planted, a quick tour of the house the girls grew up in-usually they leave, satisfied, without asking the prickly questions that have left Dedi lost in her memories for weeks at a time, searching for the answer. Why, they inevitably ask in one form or another, why are you the one who survived?
She bends to her special beauty, the butterfly orchid she smuggled back from Hawaii two years ago. For three years in a row Dedi has won a trip, the prize for making the most sales of anyone in her company Her niece Minou has noted more than once the irony of Dedi's "new" profession, actually embarked upon a decade ago, after her divorce. She is the company's top life insurance salesperson. Everyone wants to buy a policy from the woman who just missed being killed along with her three sisters. Can she help it?
The slamming of a car door startles Dedi. When she calms herself she finds she has snipped her prize butterfly orchid. She picks up the fallen blossom and trims the stem, wincing. Perhaps this is the only way to grieve the big things-in snippets, pinches, little sips of sadness.
But really, this woman should shut car doors with less violence. Spare an aging woman's nerves. And I'm not the only one, Dedi thinks. Any Dominican of a certain generation would have jumped at that gunshot sound.
* * *
She walks the woman quickly through the house, Mama's bedroom, mine and Patria's, but mostly mine since Patria married so young, Minerva and Marma Teresa's. The other bedroom she does not say was her father's after he and Mama stopped sleeping together. There are the three pictures of the girls, old favorites that are now emblazoned on the posters every November, making these once intimate snapshots seem too famous to be the sisters she knew.
Dedi has placed a silk orchid in a vase on the little table below them. She still feels guilty about not continuing Mama's tribute of a fresh blossom for the girls every day But the truth is, she doesn't have the time anymore, with a job, the museum, a household to run. You can't be a modern woman and insist on the old sentimentalities. And who was the fresh orchid for, anyway? Dedi looks up at those young faces, and she knows it is herself at that age she misses the most.
The interview woman stops before the portraits, and Dedi waits for her to ask which one was which or how old they were when these were taken, facts Dedi has at the ready, having delivered them so many times. But instead the thin waif of a woman asks, "And where are you?"
Dedi laughs uneasily It's as if the woman has read her mind. "I have this hallway just for the girls," she says. Over the woman's shoulder, she sees she has left the door to her room ajar, her nightgown flung with distressing abandon on her bed. She wishes she had gone through the house and shut the doors to the bedrooms.
"No, I mean, where are you in the sequence, the youngest, the oldest?"
So the woman has not read any of the articles or biographies around. Dedi is relieved. This means that they can spend the time talking about the simple facts that give Dedi the illusion that hers was just an ordinary family, too-birthdays and weddings and new babies, the peaks in that graph of normalcy.
Dedi goes through the sequence.
"So fast in age," the woman notes, using an awkward phrase.
Dedi nods. "The first three of us were born close, but in other ways, you see, we were so different."
"Oh?" the woman asks.
"Yes, so different. Minerva was always into her wrongs and rights." Dedi realizes she is speaking to the picture of Minerva, as if she were assigning her a part, pinning her down with a handful of adjectives, the beautiful, intelligent, high-minded Minerva. "And Maria Teresa, ay, Dios," Dedi sighs, emotion in her voice in spite of herself. "Still a girl when she died, pobrecita, just turned twenty-five." Dedi moves on to the last picture and rights the frame. "Sweet Patria, always her religion was so important."
"Always?" the woman says, just the slightest challenge in her voice.
"Always," Dedi affirms, used to this fixed, monolithic language around interviewers and mythologizers of her sisters. "Well, almost always."
* * *
She walks the woman out of the house into the galerma where the rocking chairs wait. A kitten lies recklessly under the runners, and she shoos it away "What is it you want to know?" Dedi asks bluntly. And then because the question does seem to ruddy call the woman to account for herself, she adds, "Because there is so much to tell."
The woman laughs as she says, "Tell me all of it."
Dedi looks at her watch as a polite reminder to the woman that the visit is circumscribed. "There are books and articles. I could have Tono at the museum show you the letters and diaries."
"That would be great," the woman says, staring at the orchid Dedi is still holding in her hand. Obviously, she wants more. She looks up, shyly. "I just have to say, it's really so easy to talk to you. I mean, you're so open and cheerful How do you keep such a tragedy from taking you under? I'm not sure I am explaining myself?"
Dedi sighs. Yes, the woman is making perfect sense. She thinks of an article she read at the beauty salon, by a Jewish lady who survived a concentration camp. "There were many many happy years. I remember those. I try anyhow. I tell myself, Dedi, concentrate on the positive! My niece Minou tells me I am doing some transcending meditation, something like that. She took the course in the capital.
"I'll tell myself, Dedi, in your memory it is such and such a day, and I start over, playing the happy moment in my head. This is my movies-I have no television here."
"Of course," Dedi says, almost fiercely. And when it doesn't work, she thinks, I get stuck playing the same bad moment. But why speak of that.
"Tell me about one of those moments," the woman asks, her face naked with curiosity. She looks down quickly as if to hide it.
Dedi hesitates, but her mind is already racing backwards, year by year by year, to the moment she has fixed in her memory as zero.
* * *
She remembers a clear moonlit night before the future began. They are sitting in the cool darkness under the anacahuita tree in the front yard, in the rockers, telling stories, drinking guanabana juice. Good for the nerves, Mama always says.
They're all there, Mama, Papa, Patria-Minerva-Dedi. Bang-bang-bang, their father likes to joke, aiming a finger pistol at each one, as if he were shooting them, not boasting about having sired them. Three girls, each born within a year of the other! And then, nine years later, Marma Teresa, his final desperate attempt at a boy misfiring.
Their father has his slippers on, one foot hooked behind the other. Every once in a while Dedi hears the clink of the rum bottle against the rim of his glass.
Many a night, and this night is no different, a shy voice calls out of the darkness, begging their pardon. Could they spare a calmante for a sick child out of their stock of kindness? Would they have some tobacco for a tired old man who spent the day grating yucca?
Their father gets up, swaying a little with drink and tiredness, and opens up the store. The campesino goes off with his medicine, a couple of cigars, a few mints for the godchildren. Dedi tells her father that she doesn't know how they do as well as they do, the way he gives everything away. But her father just puts his arm around her, and says, "Ay, Dedi, that's why I have you. Every soft foot needs a hard shoe.
"She'll bury us all," her father adds, laughing, "in silk and pearls." Dedi hears again the clink of the rum bottle. "Yes, for sure, our Dedi here is going to be the millionaire in the family."
"And me, Papa, and me?" Marma Teresa pipes up in her little girl's voice, not wanting to be left out of the future.
"You, mi qapita, you'll be our little coquette. You'll make a lot of men's -"
Their mother coughs her correcting-your-manners cough.
"-a lot of men's mouths water? their father concludes.
Marma Teresa groans. At eight years old, in her long braids and checkered blouse, the only future the baby wants is one that will make her own mouth water, sweets and gifts in big boxes that clatter with something fun inside when she shakes them.
"What of me, Papa?" Patria asks more quietly It is difficult to imagine Patria unmarried without a baby on her lap, but Dedi's memory is playing dolls with the past. She has sat them down that clear, cool night before the future begins, Mama and Papa and their four pretty girls, no one added, no one taken away Papa calls on Mama to help him out with his fortune-telling. Especially-though he doesn't say this-if she's going to censor the clairvoyance of his several glasses of rum. "What would you say, Mama, about our Patria?"
"You know, Enrique, that I don't believe in fortunes," Mama says evenly. "Padre Ignacio says fortunes are for those without faith." In her mother's tone, Dedi can already hear the distance that will come between her parents. Looking back, she thinks, Ay, Mama, ease up a little on those commandments. Work out the Christian math of how you give a little and you get it back a hundredfold. But thinking about her own divorce, Dedi admits the math doesn't always work out. If you multiply by zero, you still get zero, and a thousand heartaches.
"I don't believe in fortunes either," Patria says quickly She's as religious as Mama, that one. "But Papa isn't really telling fortunes."
Minerva agrees. "Papa's just confessing what he thinks are our strengths." She stresses the verb confessing as if their father were actually being pious in looking ahead for his daughters. "Isn't that so, Papa?"
"Sm, seqorita," Papa burps, slurring his words. It's almost time to go in.
"Also," Minerva adds, "Padre Ignacio condemns fortunes only if you believe a human being knows what only God can know." That one can't leave well enough alone.
"Some of us know it all," Mama says curtly.
Marma Teresa defends her adored older sister. "It isn't a sin, Mama, it isn't. Berto and Razl have this game from New York. Padre Ignacio played it with us. It's a board with a little glass you move around, and it tells the future!" Everybody laughs, even their mother, for Marma Teresa's voice is bursting with gullible excitement. The baby stops, suddenly, in a pout. Her feelings get hurt so easily On Minerva's urging, she goes on in a little voice. "I asked the talking board what I would be when I grew up, and it said a lawyer."
Excerpted from In the Time of Butterflies by Julia Alvarez Copyright ©1995 by Julia Alvarez. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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Meet the Author
Julia Alvarez left the Dominican Republic for the United States in 1960 at the age of ten. A novelist, poet, and essayist, she is the author of nineteen books, including How the García Girls Lost Their Accents,In the Time of the Butterflies—a National Endowment for the Arts Big Read Selection—Yo!, Something to Declare, In the Name of Salome, Saving theWorld, A Wedding in Haiti, and The Woman I Kept to Myself. Her work has garnered wide recognition, including the 2013 National Medal of Arts, a Latina Leader Award in Literature in 2007 from the Congressional Hispanic Caucus Institute, the 2002 Hispanic Heritage Award in Literature, the 2000 Woman of the Year by Latina magazine, and inclusion in the New York Public Library’s 1996 program “The Hand of the Poet: Original Manuscripts by 100 Masters, from John Donne to Julia Alvarez.” A writer-in-residence at Middlebury College, Alvarez and her husband, Bill Eichner, established Alta Gracia, an organic coffee farm–literacy arts center, in her homeland, the Dominican Republic.
- Middlebury, Vermont
- Date of Birth:
- March 27, 1950
- Place of Birth:
- New York, New York
- B.A., Middlebury College, 1971; M.F.A., Syracuse University, 1975
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When I read this fantastic, innovative, and well written novel, it gave me a new insight on the history of the Dominican Republic. I had never before heard of Truilljo or the Miribal sisters. Not only did it give me great information (and a great movie as well!), but it also gave me inspiration. As a young woman, I know that I can achieve many things, just like Minerva did. I highly recommend this book for all who want a good book to read, want to learn, and want to become inspired.
I loved this book! The plot was excellent. My friend recommended this book because we both are Dominican. It is a wonderful novel through the interpretation of Julia Alavarez. She made it so that it sounded very believable it felt like an actual account.She brings their spirits and this time back to life in a charming story. The book was kind of confusing at first in the beginning through the eyes of Dede's nostalgia,because you needed to know the whole story. After I read through it, though, it explained itself'the story is mainly told in flashbacks'. In the time of Trujillo's dictatorship in the Dominican Republic, these sisters had the courage to risk their lives for their beloved country. They made a big impact. In my opinion, it's more of a feminine book. I recommend it, though, so go ahead and enjoy! =]
I love this book. It broke my heart with it's beauty and strength!!
This book is worth the tears!
This book was chosen for my book club. Upon reading the synopsis I felt little excitement for it. Perhaps this is why it surpassed my expectations so greatly. It was a beautifully written story about three strong sisters who fought against the law for what they believed in. You feel like part of their family as you turn the pages.
I recommend In the Times of the Butterflies to everyone in search of a good reading. YOU WILL LOVE THIS! When I was about to finish the book, only a few pages left, I kept going back and back to the core of the story, I did not want it to be over. It was an amazing 'so worth the reading'! A MUST READ, FOR SURE!!!
I have not read such a good book in a long time. It had a perfect mix of history with fiction. The story was interesting and told with such emotion. The characters were easy to connect and relate to. I really enjoyed it and recommend it to anyone who wants to read about strong women and men in a time and place where strength is hard to come by.
I love this book! The author not only shows the butterflies as the martyrs they became but also as the strong, beautiful women that they were. This book is one of my favorites. A must read!
This is one of the very, very best books I've ever read and my FAVORITE of all time...it is powerful, riveting, touching and based on a true story. A must-read!!!! If you saw the HBO movie, THE BOOK IS 110% BETTER THAN THE MOVIE!!!!!!! The movie does not do the book justice @ all!! Read the real thing.
This made me think about thingts I have never thought of before. It is the realest historical fiction I have ever read and made me cry my eyes out... I loved it
This is a wonderful book. I wish I could give it two ratings. The book deserves five stars. Perfectly written, captivating characterizations, a near-perfect book. Unfortunately, the Nook version is riddled with typos. Missing periods, misscanned words (a common one is "mil" for "will," and other typos that are sometimes enough to draw me out of the story to figure out what it was supposed to say. In one case, a sentence became almost nonsensical due to a misprinting. It doesn't spoil the book for me, so I'm still giving it five stars here, but with typos on nearly every page (or at least, so it seems), I feel like I need to qualify my praise. The story itself, though, is one of the best I've read in a long time. If you haven't read it and you find it interesting enough that you want to check the reviews, by all means, get it. I don't think you'll be sorry.
This is an extremely emotional story about 4 sisters, their husbands and family, in the Dominican Republic during the time of Trujillo. It pulls you into the story and you live during that time too. An amazing story.
Based on historical events. Written from the viewpoint of each sister which gives more depth from the different perspectives.
I loved this book becasue it was very strong and emotional for me. Also because every character were great and Julia Alvarez is a wonderful writer. I can't wait to read another of her books.
This book really shows what latin woman are capable of accomplishing once they have a real motive to lead them by. It shows we as Latina's are strong enough to face the good and bad faces of been fair and well respected. I really enjoyed the novel as well as the movie. It fills me with pride to say im a Dominican woman.
i read this book after reading THE FARMING OF THE BONES by Edwidge Danticat (which is also a very powerful read), and i was moved to tears after reading IN THE TIME OF BUTTERFLIES. i was so touched for what they sacrificed for not only themselves but for all those on the island. this book also humanized martyrs and for that - i will recommend this beautifully written book.
Latin American literature seems to be an untapped wealth of emotionally charged stories like this one. I have read it several times and each time I get wrapped up in it and finish it in 2 or 3 days, usually in tears. A beautiful historical fiction story based on a fascinating history.
This book was a wonderful read. When I finished reading this book I wanted to cry out. I was angry at the inhumanity, I was proud to be from the same country as these women, and I was upset that I had never been told this story before. Wonderful book. Must read!!!
I picked up this book from a recommended library shelf and found one of my favorite books. This book is beautifully written and gives us an insight of what those times were really like. It's sad story shows us what an aweful experience so many had to go through for the desire of freedom. A definite must read for anyone.
In the Time of the Butterflies is a wonderful book. I read it for an 11th grade reading assignment, and I absolutely devoured it from the first page. It is wonderfully written and a touching story. It was especially appealing to me because of my familiarity with the Spanish language and customs; however, its lessons and themes transcend all nationalities, and I recommend it to anyone who's looking for a great read!
Several years ago, my daughter Jessica was assigned 'In the Time of the Butterflies' for a ninth grade course in Language Arts. I decided to read the book myself after several friends of mine raved about it. I have to say that this book is excellent! The writing style of Julia Alvarez is different in that it takes me to the Dominican Republic in its detailed descriptions. I loved the way she developed each character, individually then as a group. I would recommend this author and this book to anyone looking for a book that transports you in time to a place where dictatorship ruled and a quest for freedom and patriotism lives in the hearts of men and more importantly in woman. Great book for understanding the human condition in a sister isla Dominican Republic. I would also recommend it as a womens studies book or Latin American studies book! Bravo, Julia me llevaste a la isla en un tiempo de revolucion y esperanza.
Julia Alvarez is a great writer, captivating the true essence of life, ambitions, love, and most importantly, freedom.. Although this story is tragic and true, and the heroines were so unfortunate in the end, they accomplished something that many women would carry with them.. They stood up for themselves and were courageous.. Thanks to this writer, today women all over can understand and relate to this pain and struggle also agaisnt political repression. Julia Alvarez is one of my all time favorites. i love this book.
Julia Alvarez did an excellent job telling the fictional story of four, real-life sisters. Her writing style is unique and unlike anything I have seen. She portrays these women so well, I feel like I know them personaly. Each character has a different personality but they are all connected by the same tragedies. Alvarez takes the reader into the four different minds so one gets every perspective of living in the Dominican Republic under the rule of Trujillo.
4.5 stars Ms. Alvarez has a way with words. She has a lovely voice and told a story that broke my heart. Knowing part of it was factual and seeing yet again what people have had to go through under the horrible dictatorship of a man taking way too much power for himself made this stick with me along the likes of Elizabeth Wein's CODE NAME VERITY and ROSE UNDER FIRE. If you like historical and/or family-oriented novels about women standing up for what and who they believe in, you will seriously appreciate IN THE TIME OF BUTTERFLIES.