![]() ![]() In the Time of the Butterflies helped me to learn about and reflect upon my parents’ generation, the wages of the dictatorship they had left behind. In my first novel, How the García Girls Lost Their Accents, I was able to imaginatively resolve the issues that arose in an all-girl immigrant family. I started writing my own stories in large part to understand what was hap- pening to my family and me in this brave new world. It was profoundly transforming to discover that these characters who were supposed to be so different from us were so much like me. What were they like, these Americans? Who did they love? How did they go about their lives? I became a reader, not to find myself in books-in fact, there were no “multicultural books.” I read to find out about them, their daily lives, their idioms, their jokes, their families, friends, enemies. We landed in Nueva York, a huge metropolis full of strangers speaking a language I couldn’t decode. In 1960, we had to leave the country in a hurry to escape the dictator’s dreaded secret police. This smart girl Scheherazade had a plan: she bombarded the sultan with story after story for 1001 nights, stories I got to know by heart: “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,” “Aladdin and His Magic Lantern,” “Sinbad, the Sailor.” Scheherazade ended up saving her life and the lives of all the women in her kingdom. My favorite storybook was The Arabian Nights. I already knew the plots and characters, the twists and turns, but that didn’t diminish the satisfying pleasures of encountering them again, old friends. I grew up in an oral storytelling culture, with a repertoire of family stories repeated over and over. “Julia is not ready to be a Brownie,” the leader told Mami. Sure enough, I found the mound, dug up the box, and hollered, “Candy!” So I wandered off, searching for any recent disturbance of the ground. ![]() But I wanted to know where the treasure was beforehand. We were to work together as a team: she’d give us the first clue to puzzle out, which would lead us to the next and the next clue, until finally we’d unearth a buried box full of candies. At our first gathering, the mom explained we were going on a treasure hunt. A few months later, an American mom started a Brownie troop for us younger girls. When the Girl Scouts came to the Dominican Republic, my older sister joined. We spent an afternoon kissing and petting in a part of the garden Papi had planted, which he called El Paraiso-just prac- ticing, you know. ![]() My American friend Elizabeth offered to help. But I had to think about it, have a plan going forward. When I learned from my older sister about boys and sex, she cautioned that I couldn’t think about it because if I did and died right then, I’d go straight to hell. Someone was always ahead of me, reporting back on what was to come. Even as a kid, I wanted a plan, and being a middle sister suited me just fine. I’ve always liked to be prepared: I like to know what to expect, what to pack, who will be at my surprise party. Living the Afterlife, an essay by Julia Alvarez We invite you to read an essay written by Julia about what inspired her to write Afterlife. Afterlife by Julia Alvarez is one of the most anticipated novels by O, The Oprah Magazine, Bustle, Buzzfeed, Vogue, The New York Times, LitHub, Library Journal, and, of course, Phoenix Books. ![]()
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