In Cuba I was a
German Shepherd

Let me begin by saying that the blurb on the back of my review copy from a certain major publishing magazine is wildly inaccurate in its assertion that In Cuba I was a German Shepherd is a "litany of humorous anecdotes." Either someone there didn't actually read the book, or else the reviewer had an interesting sense of humor. So, just in case this blurb appears on the back of the finished book and you, the reader, pick it up, don't think you are going to be laughing all the way through at the comical antics of those hilarious Cuban exiles. This is a stunningly beautiful and moving collection of stories, and you shouldn't miss out completely even if there are only a few belly-laughs.

In the title story we are introduced to Maximo, who had been a university professor in Cuba but, as happened to many professional Cubans who migrated to the US, was forced by lack of American credentials to take whatever work he could find. Maximo and his wife became the owners of a small restaurant serving up Cuban home cooking and providing jobs for fellow émigrés, most of whom are characters in other stories in the collection.

I wouldn't call these stories linked—the connection might be more accurately described by quoting a line from the book: "They weren't close friends, but friendly still in that way of people who come from the same place and think they already know the important things about one another."

The stories do not go in chronological order and readers may find themselves a bit lost if they expect them to.This particular story takes place after Maximo's wife has died, his children have left and he has sold the restaurant. In it, Maximo and his friends, another Cuban man and two Dominicans, play dominoes in a park, telling jokes, watching pretty girls and being ogled by tourists. In their effort to create something homey and familiar in a land that still does not feel like home, they have been reduced to a tourist attraction. The book's title is taken from a joke Maximo tells: a small mutt from Cuba, attempting to impress a pedigreed American female poodle, boasts "here I may be a mutt, but back in Cuba I was a German Shepherd."

Another story, "Confusing the Saints", is a first person, almost stream-of-consciousness exploration of a woman's mind as she awaits word of her husband, who is attempting to emigrate on one of the notoriously dangerous Cuba-to-Miami rafts. Becoming impatient with the process of legal immigration through their marriage, he opts to put his life at risk rather than wait one more minute in the homeland. She, helpless to do anything for him and already losing bits and pieces of her Cuban/Catholic culture in her attempts to become "American," cannot remember which saints to pray to for his safety.

"The Party" is an ensemble piece which brings all the characters together in Maximo's restaurant to celebrate the escape from Cuba of Joaquin Rivera, a political dissident who was a close friend of Maximo's and popular among the other emigres for his many accomplishments and talents. As Menendez explores the minds of the party-goers more deeply, however, we find there are some who are not necessarily feeling as celebratory as might be expected.

"Miami Relatives," my personal favorite story in the collection, essentially amounts to a surrealist exploration of the complex relationships within a surrealist Cuban family as observed and experienced by the family's young daughter. The writing, the language and the imagery are extraordinary. The only disappointment I felt was that I did not know enough about the details of Cuban political and cultural history to understand what was clearly an array of beautiful symbolism--the old evil uncle back in the homeland, the crazy aunt who bit people and ate her own fingers, the grandmother perching in a mango tree like a bird, afraid of the ghosts of food in her kitchen.

Throughout the book we are barraged with the memories of exiles—the beauty and power and terror of the homeland always in their minds, influencing decisions, causing sorrow or relief at escape. But it is in the final story, "Her Mother's House," that the power of these memories is truly brought home for the reader.

All her life, Lisette, the American-born daughter of exiles, has heard her mother's weepy, despairing stories of her home in Cuba. The fabulous house with the high ceilings and the roses in the garden, the white columns from the front hall to the second floor, the stained glass windows and rattan furniture, were all left behind when she, the daughter of wealthy landowners, had to flee the coming of the revolution. Suffering her own loss in a recent divorce, Lisette takes an assignment from the paper where she works which will entail travel to Cuba. She announces she will visit her mother's old home. Only at the last moment will her mother hand her a map that will take her to the site of her mother's dearest memories.

As Lisette travels through Cuba she finds herself resenting the fact she is not recognized as Cuban. Upon arriving at her mother's home, she is confronted not only with her distance from her heritage, but her distance from her mother, who is, perhaps, not quite who Lisette had always assumed.

The author, Ana Menendez, a journalist and the daughter of Cuban exiles, is a generous storyteller, offering the reader emotions and experiences that must cut close to the bone. She explores the experience of exile from all angles—from the point of view of people who emigrated as adults, people who emigrated as children, children who live with exile parents, and adults looking back on their childhoods with émigrés. She touches on feelings of relief, despair and longing, homesickness and anger, the need to assimilate and the need to hold on to familiar community and culture.

In Cuba I Was a German Shepherd is Ana Menendez's first collection, the title story of which was included in the anthology Best New American Voices 2000, as well as winning a Pushcart Prize.

Reviewed by Suzanne Cody
04.26.01

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