I remember expecting another coming-of-age story from “The Time of the Doves” (written by Mercè Rodoreda) when I first picked up the book, mostly because the last four (of five) books I read were all centered around this trope. So I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the novel focuses on something else entirely.
This time, we focus on Natalia – a young woman who despite already being engaged decides to pursue a relationship with some guy named Quimet (which was certainly one way to segue into the next scene). As time passes, we discover that Quimet is a very controlling person (and that their relationship is pretty dysfunctional up to his death in the Spanish Civil War (in which come to think of it, the majority of my blog posts were literally talking about dysfunctional relationships because of how much I enjoyed reading about them)).
The most noteworthy thing I’ve noticed throughout my reading is my constant irritation with Natalia’s lack of strength to defend herself in their relationship. But at the same time, it does make sense: Natalia grew up in an environment that taught her the man was in charge of the household. This is also where Quimet has taken advantage of it to some degree. For example, he refuses to call Natalia by her real name and only uses a pet name (“Colometa,” or “little dove”), which I feel dehumanises her and causes him to exercise more power over her. He is telling her that she will be how he wants her to be, not how she truly is. Even though Natalia has a job later on, she still has to come home and take care of her doves and family. Yet Quimet doesn’t really help her.
And when Quimet and his friends die to the war, I couldn’t help but pity Natalia when she is left with her children to face poverty and starvation. All her loved ones are dying, and she’s being left alone. As a result, she had planned at one point to do a murder-suicide with her children. So it was very fortunate that she was saved with a much happier marriage with a grocer in the end.
Her submission may be rather frustrating to power through, but ultimately, I have to give her kudos for her strength and resilience. The combined mental pressure stemming from war, many deaths of loved ones (including her father’s and husband’s), violence, hunger, and poverty has to be incredibly insane – and I expect a lot of people would have been driven past their breaking point at this.
If you were in Natalia’s shoes (think: deceased spouse with children to take care of in times of a crisis), would you do the same thing as she did and send your children away to a refugee camp? Or would you not be able to separate yourself from your children?