Month: February 2026

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Rodereda time of the doves Uncategorized

Poor Maria

First and most importantly, I think that Colometa/Natalia/Maria is so real. The way that the book is narrated is so relatable, as some of the things she says and thinks reminds me of some debrief sessions I would have with friends. Her narration of meeting Quimet, of how she broke Pere’s heart, and her feelings towards her father are quite realistic. Almost like a catch up session that could be had over dinner. She’s just one of the girls!

Beyond this, as I read this book I felt an overwhelming sense of sympathy for her. I was frustrated when she left Pere for Quimet, and something that stood out to me during this sequence in her story was her emphasis on how she did not have her mum there to advise her: “That rubber waistband digging into my waist and my dead mother
couldn’t advise me,…” (21). It led me to ask myself, if her mother were there, would she have allowed her daughter to be swept off her feet by Quimet?

When the two began to fight each other in the beginning, and he would say “Poor Maria…” and would gaslight her and would pinch her and wanted her to stop working, I felt so terrible that this was happening. I did not realize how much these introducing scenes and her time with Quimet held impact until I reached the end of the book, and someone called her Senora Natalia. I was shocked when I read this, as I realized that as I read, I was not actually sure of what her name was. Was I unsure of this because she had never told me? Because I wasn’t actually paying attention while I read? Or because Quimet had so successfully taken over her life and actions that by extension, he had taken over my understanding of Natalia, to the point where I wasn’t even sure what her name was?

My sympathy reached an all-time-high when the war began, and she was left to fend for herself and her children. The scene where she had to leave Antoni at the refugee camp because she could not afford to feed them, and the moment that she decided to kill her children to put them out of suffering tore at my heart strings. I guess this is why page 159 stood out to me. It was like sunshine in her gloomy life, and the clearest presentation of kindness to her. The way that her life turned around following Antoni’s kindness to her stood out to me, and honestly reinforced just how terrible Quimet was. You know it’s bad when you are celebrating the bare minimum.

In all, I greatly enjoyed this book. I felt like I had a constant 🙁 on my face as I read, because of just how terrible it was that no one cared to take care of her for so long in this narrative.

To conclude, my question would be: Could a man have written this narrative?

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Deep Rivers

Deep Rivers

Ernesto’s connection with nature was something that was evident throughout the book. In particular, his view of the river as an entity really stood out to me. To me, it represents the tension that exists in his life between his connection with the Indigenous peoples and his white identity. It was interesting to me how he essentially would pray to the river, identifying it as an entity that knew him and could keep him safe, but in the same breath would place great importance in being cleansed by the priests through the Catholic church. Recognizing nature as an entity that could be prayed to, yet also depending on the judgement of the priests in the Catholic church interested me because it showed how truly complex his identity was. To me, this book presented the famous question of ‘nature vs nurture’, because first he was by nature a white presenting child, but second by nurture an “Indian”, as he was raised by them and was nurtured by them. I also loved the inclusion of the Quecha language throughout the book as well. It showed how well he was able to weave his two identities together through his use of language as well. It showed that there was true depth to his alignment with the non-white culture.

I did find it really weird how the schoolboys treated the woman though, and how she was generally called the ‘idiot’. I felt it was so strange that they were all so pious and would feel guilt for taking advantage of her, but in the same way still assault her at every chance they got. That was what was most disturbing to me I think: the normalization of assault amongst the boarders. They all just excused the behavior of Wig essentially. Like, yes, Ernesto threw dirt at him that one time, but in all there was a weird air of complacency with that sort of behavior. I think in general the way that the women were treated by the men was not okay, and it was even stranger that it was normalized.

Beyond this major flaw, I really liked the storyline. While it was slow in some cases, I felt that all of the details contributed to the culmination of the rebellion against the government. I loved the Dona, and how she led the other women when they were taking back their salt. I loved the solidarity of Ernesto in this moment, essentially advocating for them with the priest even when he was afraid. I also loved how his father embraced his identity and essentially did not try to get him to change the way he spoke or behaved.

Given that last week’s book was very ‘mother’ focused, the question I would like to ponder on is this: Would Ernesto have been different were he raised by his mother, and if she was more present throughout the book?

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