Title & author
Olga Dies Dreaming by Xochitl Gonzalez
Synopsis
In the weeks leading up to and in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria, Olga and her brother Prieto navigate the long-lasting impact of colonialism on their Puerto Rican family and heritage while living in gentrifying New York City, an impact that the hurricane only emphasizes. The novel presents the legacy of colonialism and its white supremacist roots through the eyes of a historical event that does not feel so historical—especially when the U.S. government has taken no real action in the past few years to create change. In doing so, it sheds a light on the damaging impact of white supremacy at every scale.
Who should read this book
Fans of The Sentence
What we’re thinking about
The present day resonance of this story amidst the aftermath of Hurricane Fiona.
Trigger warning(s)
Physical violence, sexual violence, abandonment, racism, sexism, homophobia
In September 2022, Hurricane Fiona hit Puerto Rico, wiping out power across the entire island, causing landslides, and forcing the rescue of over 1,000 people. Such storms would wreak havoc across any landmass, let alone one that exactly three years earlier faced a Category 3 storm with Hurricane Hugo and five years earlier the Category 4 storm Hurricane Maria. It’s in this latter environment that Xochitl Gonzalez sets her debut novel Olga Dies Dreaming (Flatiron Books, 2022). In the weeks leading up to and in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria, Olga and her brother Prieto navigate the long-lasting impact of colonialism on their Puerto Rican family and heritage while living in gentrifying New York City, an impact that the hurricane only emphasizes. The novel presents the legacy of colonialism and its white supremacist roots through the eyes of a historical event that does not feel so historical—especially when the U.S. government has taken no real action in the past few years to create change. In doing so, it sheds a light on the damaging impact of white supremacy at every scale.
At the start of the novel, Gonzalez depicts both Olga and Prieto’s reliance on code switching, or the way they strategically present themselves in places of whiteness, to protect their employment opportunities. Ultimately, the duo is working within a flawed system to try and create structural change. Olga, a wedding planner for New York’s elite, is a regular guest on a news channel that “readi[es] her naturally curly hair into sleek, blown-out waves” (Gonzalez, 48). Though at times Olga alters her mannerisms to gain clientele, all the while she is strategically determining where she might further her own goals: “the true American dream—accumulating money” (47). Olga strategically overcharges her customers, a move “Olga did not see as theft as much as an equalization of resources: Mrs. Henderson had aggressively accumulated too much of something while her family had acutely too little” (7-8). And Prieto, a congressman, runs for office “because everyone ignored his neighborhood,” yet is forced to hide his identity as a queer man (92). The duo works from the inside of the oppressive system to create a better, safer space for their family and community.
Later, as Maria tears through Puerto Rico, Gonzalez artfully crafts simultaneous disruptions in both characters’ lives that are results of colonialism’s legacy in white supremacy to mirror the chaos, creating an urgency that leads to them adjusting their strategies towards creating change. At an event, Olga’s sexual partner goes so far to tell her she “acts like a maid” instead of his date after she helps a waiter clean up broken dishes (157). Prieto displays an outburst of internalized homophobia, fearful that his sister might learn about his own sexuality (172). A group of wealthy, white investors meet in Puerto Rico to discuss ways of taking advantage of the hurricane’s outcome which are reliant upon Prieto’s compliance (by way of blackmail). But just as a tide crests, it must crash down. These events stem from white supremacy, same as the lack of concern from the U.S. government and citizens living in the States for the hurricane. Something changes in Olga and Prieto. On her typical news segment, Olga breaks off to discuss how “these deaths will be blood on this president’s hands, this administration’s hands” (278). Prieto takes to the stage to share not only that he is HIV positive (a thread that Gonzalez doesn’t address beyond the surface, unfortunately, for either Prieto or his father), but to “push back on the cronyism that is hobbling recovery in Puerto Rico” (350-351). By the end of the novel, the duo is no longer dismantling the system in the same way they were at its start.
As Hurricane Fiona hit Puerto Rico, media outlets from across the mainland U.S. instead played Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral, prioritizing an institution of white supremacy. Tweets expressed well wishes for Puerto Rico, “praying” the U.S. would send help, ignorant to the fact that Puerto Rico is a part of the U.S. And, not unsimilar to Trump’s visit after Hurricane Maria, Biden too minimized the hurricane’s damage, not visiting any impacted communities. Furthermore, his visit only emphasized the fact that no real infrastructure has been developed to protect the island since his administration’s start, whether from storms or from corporations taking advantage of the territory.
“As one day turned into two into three and four, in each town you would hear the same refrain: We need help, where is the help? We are American” (254). And this message not only extends to all-encompassing events like a hurricane, but every day actions and motions: People, particularly white individuals, are disassociated, as if our concern for problems only extend to those who look like us. But by speaking out on our platforms, like Olga and Prieto both do, and collective organizing, such as protesting, voting, and acting, change can occur. Olga Dies Dreaming does not shy away from showcasing what an internal revolution might look like—and how powerful and truly impactful such revolution could be. “This was a sea change, an awakening to over a century of abused power, the last drop of water in the glass. This would continue tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that…This was by, of, and for the people” (369).
“Mothering and birthing a child are not the same. Children don’t ask to be born. They don’t owe anybody anything.”
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