In the Time of the Butterflies
By: Julia Alvarez / Narrated By: Noemi de la Puente, Alma Cuervo, Bianca Carnacho, Melanie Martinez
Length: 13 hrs and 20 mins
…Wow… what can I say, but Wow…?
Let me begin by saying that I thought, given the dryness of the beginning, I wasn’t going to like In the Time of the Butterflies. Author Julia Alvarez takes the true-life Mirabal sisters and gives them excruciatingly detailed histories/childhoods. It was all very well written as one could plainly see how each sister grew into her personality, how each evolved politically and spiritually. But it was, for the most part, fairly slow-going. I found myself yawning a bit when it came especially to sisters Patria and Dede. I’m honestly trying to figure out why as I wound up liking those two best when all was said and done. I’m thinking it was perhaps that Patria was such a religious almost-fanatic while at the same time being your typical wife and mother. And maybe it’s the fact that Dede was just so gosh darned pragmatic.
But just when I thought I had a big ol’ passel of stereotypes on my hand: Outspoken Minerva, Pious Patria, Romantic Maria Teresa, and yes, Pragmatic Dede, Alvarez throws in the political landscape of their lives under dictator Trujillo, some of the atrocities which could turn ANYone into a “Political.” Thus, each character has life breathed into her, and they truly come alive as the Do-Gooders, Las Mariposas, whether it’s giving shelter to a fugitive, or it’s running guns, burying them in the fields outside their very homes.
Whether it’s witnessing the martyred murdered or being sent to prison themselves—part of a devolving and paranoid, and increasingly violent, regime.
What started out as “slow,” I noticed, gave way to tension ever sooo slowly mounting. A faithful father? Yes. Until he’s not. Tension. Love that is true? Yes. Until it’s not. Tension. People you can trust? Yes. Until they’re not. Tension.
And the ultimate: A mountain pass that is safe and benign? Yes. Until it’s not. Tragedy.
I liked the way Alvarez infused varied kinds of emotion through the narratives of each sister. And when there was too much angst in one sister, goodness and level-headedness in another came through. Also, always, always, there were human beings who were doing the right thing: Near religious fanaticism gave way to an honest and thorough living of Christianity’s teachings.
And I loved that there were four separate women narrators for this book. Though it was a case of one narrator for each sister, each narrator managed dialogue between the sisters, between the men they loved, between their oppressors, very well indeed. I’ve really, really gotta start listening to audiobooks with a pen and paper in hand so that I might be able to give credit where credit is due, but suffice it to say that I didn’t hit Rewind when who narrated whom was stated. All I can tell you is that the girl who does Maria Teresa’s voice took her from a romantic and innocent young girl who thinks only of ribbons all the way to a somehow still romantic and innocent young woman, despite her imprisonment and all she’s seen, who is brave and strong and courageous.
While I can say the ending is bittersweet, it winds up, despite the murders of three of the Mariposas, being more sweet than bitter. There is frustration and rage, a certain ennui with the almost-sainthood bestowed on the sisters, and definitely there is sorrow and fatigue that the new boss could’ve been the old boss, and so very much was lost.
But Dede, who pragmatic though she was, winds up as being the true martyr. The writing bears out the love between sisters, and the frantic helplessness Dede feels at being separated from them. For the rest of her life, her very long and lonely life.
Having a sister of my own? Yeah, I cried.
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