When We Left Cuba

“Maybe it’s strange that at twenty-two and female, I am standing on this balcony rather than someone like my father, someone who has spent his life accumulating power and influence, but the very nature of my age and gender makes me an attractive weapon.”

In her first meeting with CIA agent Dwyer, Beatriz acknowledges the irony that she, as a young female, is acting to avenge their family, instead of the head of their family. Her sense of herself as an “attractive weapon” is underscored by other imagery Beatriz uses to describe herself, such as her “diamond” smile.

“It’s different going to a place and fighting, seeing the destruction men can wreak all around you, and then returning home, to the sanctuary of a country that will likely never descend into such madness.”

What connects Nicholas Preston and Beatriz, initially, is their shared experience of war, but Beatriz contrasts Nick’s ability to return to his homeland with her own feelings of exile. This difference comes to represent the other ways they are incompatible.

“‘Cuba is beautiful. The beaches, the countryside, the mountains, the city, all those old Spanish buildings—’ In my memory, I see the island exactly as it was, the sun rising over the Malecón. ‘It’s the closest thing to paradise. On the surface, at least.’”

This passage captures how the memory of Cuba and what is now called Old Havana exerts a nostalgic pull on Beatriz, symbolizing the homeland she has lost and wants to reclaim.

“I’m glad this is all a joke to [Maria], that she hasn’t had to face the reality of our situation yet, that our parents consider marriage to be the final goal for us, our success tied to the men we catch rather than our own merits.”

Beatriz’s unwillingness to marry puts her in conflict with her mother, who thinks marriage is the only appropriate path for a woman. Maria’s innocence about what is going on with Cuba represents a new life in the US that Beatriz isn’t ready to quite face. Beatriz’s resentment of her mother’s gendered expectations will drive Beatriz’s choices later in the novel.

“Not everything has to be a battle, Beatriz. You could just be happy.”

Elisa’s comment captures the main conflict Beatriz feels with her family about her wish to pursue Castro and avenge Alejandro’s death. The choice to give up and make peace with her present is one she struggles against throughout the novel. She equates domesticity and softness with surrender, which goes against her character.

“I’ve seen things these [American] girls haven’t, lived through a revolution, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t mimic the carefree attitude they adopt with aplomb; I lack the innocence they lay claim to.”

Beatriz’s feelings of being an outsider in Palm Beach society amplify her grief at her family’s exile from Cuba. Her inability to identify with the “innocence” around her speaks to the violence she has experienced in her homeland. Throughout the novel, Beatriz identifies America as a place of sheltering innocence, while Cuba is a realm of lost innocence.

“Fidel’s presence is a constant reminder of all we’ve lost, all he’s stolen, and now, he’s here, and this is another thing he’s taken from us, as he invades our sanctuary, too.”

Beatriz’s sense of Fidel’s visit to the US as another invasion amplifies the theme of Exile and the Longing for Home. This passage precedes an important moment when Beatriz meets Castro and realizes the power she has invested in him as an image and as a destructive force.

“I don’t feel anything. He could be a stranger on the street. And the truth of it hits me, the realization that somewhere along the way I have built him up in my mind until he has become a caricature of himself, likely more cunning, more intelligent, more formidable than he is in real life.”

Seeing Castro in person makes Beatriz realize that she has given him a symbolic power in her mind, due to his deep influence on Cuba and the role she believes he played in her brother’s death. This passage speaks to the power of imagination to make worries and threats seem larger than they are, while the anti-climactic moment foreshadows the second anti-climactic meeting between Beatriz and Castro at the end of the book.

“I don’t want to hear all the reasons this is a terrible idea. I know it is probably a terrible idea, that my actions this evening have been brazen to the extreme, that I am about to cross an invisible line for which there shall be no return.”

Often feeling like an outsider after her exile from Cuba, Beatriz continually wonders how to navigate the new worlds she finds herself in. The decision to go to bed with Nick in New York shows a key aspect of her character, her willingness to take risks. She will continue this pattern of behavior throughout the novel.

“It is strange to live in a place where election results are not a foregone conclusion, to hear the excitement in the American’ voices as they wait to learn who their next president will be.”

One of the contrasts between America as a setting and Cuba as a setting is the difference in government. The US, especially under the Kennedy administration, symbolizes hope, freedom, and opportunity, all of which Castro has taken away from Beatriz and her family.

“If I’m going to have regrets in this life, I’d rather them be for the chances I took and not the opportunities I let slip away.”

This passage describing Beatriz’s decision to continue her affair with Nick when he returns to Palm Beach captures her motivations as a character and her willingness to take risks. This aspect of her character helps explain why she goes ahead with the assignment to meet Castro for an attempted assassination.

“You act as though your indignation makes you superior to the rest of us, as though you can look down your nose at everyone for not being Cuban, for not taking the risks you take. Not all of us have the luxury of setting the world on fire, simply because we’re angry.”

In many ways Nick’s Americanness represents a foil to Beatriz’s Cubanness. One of the chief sources of conflict in their relationship is his wish, expressed here, to take a cautious, steady approach to things, while Beatriz wants swift action. In this, she has more in common with Eduardo than with Nick.

“I’m not looking to raise a family and have a quiet life. I won’t be a political asset and host dinner parties for you. That’s not who I am, not someone I care to be. I didn’t want to be that girl when I was a debutante living in Cuba, and now that everything has changed, I can’t be that girl.”

Beatriz is consistent throughout the novel in her desire for Freedom From Gendered Expectations. Specifically, she is uninterested in leading the kind of peaceful domestic life that her mother wishes she would have. This, too, is a source of conflict in her relationship with Nick and becomes the reason for their parting near the end.

“It’s just my mother and me squaring off in the living room. We’re practically mirror images, down to the style of dresses we wear, the only obvious distinction between us the intervening years.”

This moment when her mother upbraids Beatriz for her behavior with Nick presents the women as mirror images of each other but also antagonists, which casts a different light on her mother’s insistence that Beatriz properly marry.

“‘Happy’ has gotten lost somewhere in between plots and politics, nation building and regime change, family and fortune.”

Throughout the novel Beatriz feels that the political cannot be separated from the personal, while Nick tries to maintain a divide between his public service and his private life with Beatriz. This is an additional source of conflict between them.

“If I’ve learned anything at this point, it’s that life comes down to timing. Things happen the way they are supposed to, the seemingly insignificant moments stringing together to lead you down a path you never imagined traversing, with a man you can’t let go of and you can’t keep.”

This passage captures the irony and the contradiction in Beatriz’s feelings for Nick, as well as the motif she returns to, that his reappearance in her life is a matter of timing as well as fate. The same might be said of her meeting with Castro as well as Eduardo’s decision.

“My great battle with Fidel has now come to this—me dying at the hands of one of his spies, a traitor to our country.”

When Ramon confronts Beatriz in her flat in London, the moment is a callback to her sense in New York of Fidel invading her sanctuary in America. It also foreshadows the later conflict when Javier, in revenge, confronts Beatriz in Cuba.

“The tenor of our days is defined by this madness, as we rush from one crisis to another, from revolution, to crushing defeat, to the brink of nuclear war.”

The Cuban missile crisis introduces an element of external conflict in the book, but it also becomes the turning point after which Beatriz is called into action as an assassin. While Beatriz reflects on the stress of these times, she does not acknowledge that, elsewhere, she has expressed a disdain for a quiet life or peaceful domesticity. In some ways, she thrives on the conflict and sense of danger.

“I thought my love for Cuba would be the hardest thing for me to reconcile, but in truth, it’s the anger that’s the hardest to dispense of. Love ebbs and flows, a low-level hum in the background, but anger sinks its claws in you and refuses to let go.”

Recalling her sentiment from earlier, Beatriz realizes that anger and revenge motivate her more deeply than any patriotic or noble ambitions. She perceives love and anger as opposing forces, and her anger makes her unable to accept Nick’s love or settle down with him.

“You’ll hurt him, you know. You’ll hurt him, because no matter how much you think you love him, you’re not right for him. You want different things, and in the long run, you’ll never made each other happy.”

There’s a subtle irony in that Eduardo, whom Beatriz acknowledges is very like her in his personality and motivations, is to one to say aloud what Beatriz has been thinking about her relationship with Nick, but which she has been reluctant to confront him about.

“Somewhere in this waiting to go home, I’ve made a life for myself.”

A turning point in Beatriz’s character arc happens here, in her realization that she is not only a Cuban in exile but also, now, a Cuban in America. Once she feels she has found a home despite her exile, she is able to think about what she wants for her future.

“Men go off to war and are lauded as heroes for sacrificing their lives for their country, for their dedication and patriotism. But women—why are our ambitions designed to end in marriage and motherhood? If we want something else, if our talents lie elsewhere, why isn’t that dedication equally praised and respected?”

Here Beatriz frames her wish for action in gendered terms and laments that her ambitions are seen as unfeminine though they would be applauded in a man. It is this independence of mind that makes her choose a life as a spy, instead of marriage and motherhood.

“I imagined relief and a sense of closure at the sight of my homeland, but I confess to only feeling a tremendous sense of loss. I thought it would feel like coming home.”

When she returns to Cuba and sees the changes wrought by the revolution, Beatriz realizes that her memories of Cuba can never be reclaimed. In keeping with the theme of Exile and the Longing for Home, she realizes that her imagined Cuba can no longer offer her a home.