Reading The Time of the Doves didn’t feel like following a dramatic war story. Instead, it felt like being placed inside someone’s everyday struggle to keep going. The novel follows Natalia (often called Colometa), whose life is shaped not by political speeches or battlefield scenes, but by marriage, poverty, motherhood, and the slow exhausting life one lead while trying to survive the Spanish Civil War. Rodoreda shows how history is lived at the level of daily routines, where survival becomes the central task.
Early in the novel, Quimet renames Natalia and calls her Colometa and for me, this moment is when her identity begins slipping away. What sounds affectionate is also controlling with Quimet changing her name, her routines, and eventually the space she inhabits. His decision to fill their apartment with pigeons turns their home into a suffocating environment. The birds are not just a hobby but they crowd the room, create filth, and take up precious resources. Over time, they come to symbolize Natalia’s sense of entrapment. As the pigeons multiply, her freedom begins to shrink.
When the Civil War begins, the novel avoids heroic narratives and instead, everything becomes more difficult. Natalia is left waiting, hungry, and exhausted, trying to keep her children alive while the world around her collapses. War appears through empty cupboards, relentless work, and constant anxiety. At times she seems emotionally numb, moving through tasks mechanically, as if shutting down her feelings is the only way to endure what is happening.
For me, one of the most striking aspects of the novel is how quiet Natalia’s endurance is. She is not portrayed as strong in a dramatic or triumphant way. She simply continues despite everything falling apart around her. That persistence begins to feel like its own form of resistance, especially within a society that restricts her autonomy as both a woman and a widow of war.
Rodoreda’s plain, direct prose strengthens this emotional landscape. The focus on domestic details such as preparing food, cleaning, caring for children, and managing cramped spaces, shows how large historical forces reshape ordinary life. War can be found in all aspects of daily life as it enters kitchens, bedrooms, and bodies and alters the rhythm of everyday existence.
By the end of the novel, survival itself feels meaningful. Natalia does not emerge heroic or transformed, but she slowly rebuilds a sense of stability and opens herself to the possibility of care and tenderness. I really liked this novel because of how quietly powerful it felt. Although nothing dramatic happens, the emotional weight stays with you. It also reminded me of Nada, which similarly shows how war and its aftermath shape everyday life, especially for women navigating scarcity, uncertainty, and limited choices.
Discussion question: Do you think Natalia’s quiet endurance represents strength, or does it reveal how limited her choices truly are?