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Gabriela GarciaA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
What primarily binds the many characters together in Of Women and Salt are the struggles the women face at the hands of men and the effect it has on their lives; the fuerza (force) that recurs throughout is a cry, in part, of shared support among not just the novel’s characters but women everywhere (and indeed is meant as a call to women across national boundaries). In many cases, this oppression is obvious: Daniel viciously and regularly beats Dolores in ways that are extreme even for a time and place when domestic abuse was routinely excused; likewise, Julio abuses Carmen and Jeanette physically, sexually, and emotionally. However, even the “good” men in the novel take part in forms of oppression and abuse rooted in patriarchy: For example, although Mario isn’t overwhelmingly negative, he neglects Jeanette and hits her on at least one occasion; Antonio, also, is largely passionate and loving yet pushes his own will on María Isabel more than once. The novel puts these men on a spectrum within an oppressive system rather than on poles of good or bad.
In many cases, women seek refuge with and help from one another. For example, the narrative characterizes Dolores’s typewriting group as a women’s support group; although Dolores wants to learn to type so that she can work for herself, the women also help each other find work through their “underground” channels. Maydelis and Jeanette seek an uneasy solace in one another; while this eventually fails, the longest continuous stretch of the novel brings the two cousins together to stretch back in time to Dolores and Camagüey. Finally, the novel concludes with Ana and Carmen discovering an unlikely relationship, each getting the second chance they want.
However, these bonds are also complex and fallible. For example, although Julio abuses both Carmen and Jeanette, his abuse also drives them apart, first because Carmen is jealous of the attention that Julio pays Jeanette (or at least that’s what Jeanette believes) and later because Carmen is unable to understand why Jeanette refuses to see him anymore. Moreover, Jeanette and Carmen are responsible for Ana’s entering the system in the first place—and it’s unclear whether Jeanette has a choice, but they initially choose not to assist Ana and instead place her in a system that doesn’t care for her or her mother. The narrative shows how, even in small ways, toxic masculinity both brings together and divides the women: For example, although Jeanette recognizes the signs of abuse in Isabel’s husband, she also ignores them and even wishes to be in her place, in some ways pitting them against one another. The result is a mixed bag: Carmen and Ana come together, but Jeanette passes away without ever reconciling her relationship with Carmen. As much as the women strive to come together, the novel shows how the same forces they band together against often divide them and pit them against one another.
Examples of racism and colorism (prejudice against people with darker skin, typically on the part of people within the same community) run throughout the novel, but in two places the novel discusses these biases more prominently and explicitly. The first chapter, “Dance Not Beyond the Distant Mountain,” provides an understanding of the racial hierarchies in 19th-century Cuba, with white Spaniards at the top, Black slaves at the bottom, and Cubans with diverse racial backgrounds like María somewhere in between, occupying a low but technically free station. Racism at this point is overt and built into the legal structures of Cuban society; Spanish Cubans encourage mixing by any means possible—which implies even through sexual abuse—to make Cubans lighter as a whole. This makes Dolores’s comments in “People Like That” particularly ironic given the context: She automatically assumes that Yosmany stole the book because of his skin color and insists that you can’t trust Black people, expressing a belief in racial hierarchies that 150 years earlier—or even 50 years earlier, given the events in “That Bombs Would Rain”—would have targeted her too. However, this is in part because Dolores is now no longer part of a “middle-class” group with diverse racial backgrounds but instead occupies a higher point in the racial hierarchy: Whereas María could identify with the Black slaves she saw, Dolores is unable to identify with Yosmany.
Jeanette’s comments demonstrate that these biases cross over into the US too, as she states that Cuban Americans consider themselves white and therefore better than other Latinx people. (Note also how Dolores observes in “That Bombs Would Rain” that Carmen and Elena are darker than the wealthy, urban Cubans, many of whom would have fled to the US after the revolution.) The storyline of Gloria and Ana exemplifies this dynamic: Jeanette is exasperated by her mother’s belief that Gloria and Ana are part of a separate Latinx community, a belief she ostensibly shares with other Cuban Americans of her generation. Their experience south of the border further complicates the dynamic: When the US immigration agents lump all Latin deportees together and drop them off in Mexico rather than in their actual home countries, the deportees quickly discover that in Mexico they’re still considered outsiders, and people like Roberto harbor bigotry toward them just as Americans do.
As a result, the novel paints a complex portrait: Although it brings their experiences together and argues for solidarity, it also pushes back against a monolithic Latinx experience and highlights the divisions and differences that exist—even between groups with as much overlap as Cubans and Cuban Americans. However, as with toxic masculinity, the issues are less personal and more systemic in the end: For example, Carmen separates herself from other Latinx people because that’s how she navigated the US when she arrived; on the other hand, Jeanette, being of a different generation, can better see that her position as a Cuban American is complex, simultaneously more privileged than yet utterly similar to the issues faced by the larger Latinx community.
Although revolution is in the background throughout the novel, it’s particularly central to the events in two chapters. The first chapter, “Dance Not Beyond the Distant Mountain,” takes place at the onset of the Ten Years’ War, which ran from 1868 to 1878; although the chapter begins in 1866, the novel portrays the beginnings of citizens’ serious discontent with the Spanish government and the first steps toward war; these developments are most evident through the character of Antonio. As the factory lector, Antonio can both read the news from Havana and steer the workers’ choice of novels; his revolutionary sympathies drive him to go out of his way to ensure that the workers are aware of the battle for independence. As a result, as the chapter shows, the government and the factory owners work to censor that information as the revolution picks up steam, and Antonio’s zeal leads to his dismissal and, eventually, his death.
María’s perspective offers a necessary counterpoint, however: Through her eyes the novel shows the death and the town’s destruction when the Spanish government retaliates. In addition, her view of her relationship with Antonio illustrates the fears and human costs of the fight for independence—a fight that leaves María a widow just as her daughter is born. The narrative notes that María is not opposed to the revolution, and her actions suggest that her views align with Antonio’s but are more measured and grounded. (It’s worth reiterating here that this revolution ultimately failed: Cuba did not gain independence from Spain until the end of the 19th century and only gained true independence—this time from the US—a few years after that.)
The next chronological revolution—and the one that had a more important, more relevant impact on modern-day Cuba—was the one in the background of Dolores’s chapter, “That Bombs Would Rain.” The Cuban Revolution of the 1950s, led by Fidel Castro, exiled President Batista and installed a socialist government that is still in place today, and the response to this revolution led to an exodus of mostly wealthy Cubans to the US. At the time, Cuba had a close relationship with the US; after the revolution, however, that relationship quickly cooled, resulting in the long-standing trade embargo first established under President Kennedy’s administration in 1962. (These sanctions mostly continue today, though President Obama’s administration weakened them considerably.) As a result, Cuba has long been a symbolic and literal target of US policy—symbolic as an ally of the Soviet Union throughout the Cold War and literal because the US tried to remove Castro from power on several occasions. Even after the Soviet Union’s fall, however, relations between the US and Cuba have remained complex at best, in part because of the Cuban American community’s anti-Castro, anti-socialist fervor, which Carmen’s generation represents in the novel.
In their respective chapters, María and Dolores similarly deal with the effects of political unrest: Like María, Dolores sympathizes with the revolutionaries; however, she fears what revolution might bring to her family, particularly her two daughters. Dolores and the other townspeople know well that Batista’s reprisals are as violent as the earlier Spanish government’s: Stories of families disappearing in the middle of the night run rampant through the community. Moreover, “People Like That” shows the hardening of Dolores’s views in favor of the revolution: She dismisses the younger generation’s interest in the US as misguided, warning that if capitalism were to come to Cuba, they’d see just how horrible it is.
However, the two revolutions differ notably, both in their historical reality and in how the novel represents them. The first, in María’s time, is more overtly violent: She sees bodies strewn across the fields after the government attempts to suppress it, and her chapter, “Dance Not Beyond the Distant Mountain,” ends with Antonio’s execution. On the other hand, the revolutionary violence in Dolores’s time, in “That Bombs Would Rain,” is more hidden: The fighting all takes place in the mountains, far from the town, and families disappear rather than being executed. The visible violence instead takes place at home: Daniel’s revolutionary fighting occurs in the mountains, but his violence toward Dolores is first-hand. The other major difference is the outcome: Whereas the Ten Years’ War failed, the Cuban Revolution succeeded.
Although these are the only two chapters that deal directly with revolution, because of the socialist revolution’s success, its specter hangs heavily over the characters in the later generations. The exodus of mostly wealthy Cubans to the US created a strong base of Cuban American immigrants (many of whom, as the novel notes, expected to be in the US only until the revolution failed, never expecting Castro to retain power for decades to come). This exodus and the ensuing sanctions have split families like Jeanette’s: Some relatives are in Cuba, while others are in the US, and those in one country are often unable to stay in touch with those in the other. In addition, time has complicated the relationship between these two groups anyway, as younger generations have lost the edge and animosity that their parents and grandparents had. For example, Jeanette’s generation is much more sympathetic to Cuban life and politics on the US side, while Maydelis’s generation longs for the comforts of American life. Both sides, however, create fantasies about what the other side is like, and neither can escape the revolution’s impact on their lives and families.