Rita Indiana’s Papi was a nostalgic and emotional read for me. My family hails from Santo Domingo, La República Dominicana, like the narrator, and the many allusions to Dominican life and culture were both comforting and amusing. Mentions of mangú, Malecón, polo shirts, palm fronds, merengue, Taino idols, loud speakers mounted to cars, welcoming parties at Las Américas airport, dominoes, discos, and bayrum immediately transported me to the streets of my family’s home.

The excess machismo, U.S. glorification, and consumerism were familiar themes as well. The hyperbolic descriptions of Papi returning from the states like a prince, fawned over by extended family and friends, felt all too real. In particular, this passage in the very beginning made me laugh out loud: “your nieces and nephews, cousins, siblings, friends, your siblings’ siblings-in-law, your nearest and dearest, neighbors, classmates, aunts and uncles, godparents, compatriots, the friends of that guy who’s married to the lady whose brother is some dude who graduated from the navy a year after you” (4). This quote captures the bizarre yet amusing community culture of the Dominican so well; there always seems to be friends of friends of relatives of friends hanging around and calling themselves your uncle or cousin. Everyone is family and therefore everyone feels both entitled and obligated to you. This theme felt present throughout the text.

Without a doubt, my favorite aspect of the book was the musical nature of Indiana’s writing. Her career as a musician felt apparent in this sense. She captured the voice and poetic imagination of an 8-year old so vividly. I read the book in English but found a few chapters of the original Spanish online, and, despite being a very impressive translation, I found that the cadence of the original Spanish was missed. The language is very rhythmic and all-consuming; in addition to the magical realism and mythology throughout, Indiana is able to create this beautiful chorus of music with her words.

As the book progresses, the narrative slowly gains coherence, but it always retains this tumultuous, non-linear nature like one long, extended fever dream. There are lots of unexpected tonal shifts and scene changes that speak to the turbulent upbringing of the narrator with her father. He is a man flooded with contradictions: generous, heroic, and protective yet violent, reckless, and misogynistic. The girl details sweet moments of fatherly love, followed by intense images of violence, drugs, and greed. At a distance, her father is larger than life and too good to be true. As he approaches the narrator and their relationship comes into greater relief, we see that he is actually more of a cruel, inconsiderate despot.

There are many more things I’d like to say about this novel and its reflections of Dominican culture. It’s a text I foresee returning to repeatedly. Question for discussion: What aspect of Dominican culture was most striking to you in Indiana’s imagining? How did it strike you?