By LISA TANGER
Observer Staff
Feb. 20, 2008

Americans are once again finding themselves heavy on propaganda and light on facts as news about Fidel Castro makes its 90-mile journey from the shores of Cuba to the land of the free. Anthony DePalma’s book, “The Man Who Invented Fidel,” is a good read for a time like this.

DePalma offers context, chronology and character to the narrative of 20th Century Cuban-American relations in “The Man Who Invented Fidel.” He gives a humanized treatment of an often-demonized dictator Fidel Castro by introducing him as a youthful underdog, and chronicles a too-personal relationship between a foreign dictator and an American journalist.

Photo by Cristina Fernandez Pereda.

The author masterfully sets the tone of the book by opening the first chapter with a night scene, depicting a group of Cuban rebels on-board a small boat located off the coast of Cuba.

“They listened.

Smothered by the darkness of that winter night, they listened, and as they strained to hear the voice it grew fainter.

‘Aquí! Aquí! Aquí!’

The waters were as black as the night was dense, a perfect blanket that absorbed every scrap of light and deflected every sound. For a week, the eighty-two men jammed aboard the battered sixty-one-foot wooden pleasure boat had held their tongues, speaking in tones no bolder than a whisper so they could slip unnoticed past the patrols set up by Fulgencio Batista, the Cuban dictator they had vowed to overthrow…”

With those descriptions, DePalma draws readers into 1956 Cuba, a world of dictators, dissidents and bloody rebellion.

He continues on, to provide rich context to Castro’s political rise in the first four chapters, describing Castro’s meager beginnings in the dense hills of the Sierra Maestra. DePalma’s treatment of the Cuban social and economic atmosphere is thorough enough to add dimension to the struggle, but not so long that it bores or distracts readers.

However, while DePalma’s choice of flowery language paints a picture in the reader’s mind, it can almost serve as a distraction at times. Readers may catch themselves snickering at the metaphors and similes in Chapter 4, “Dawn in the Sierra.”

DePalma writes, “Though he wanted to note every sound and every motion, sleep laid a trap for him.”

Readers are reminded of childhood fairytales with his reference to sleep. Shortly after, the author writes, “The scout was a local man to whom the hills were as familiar as his mother’s name.” While the language effectively paints a mental picture, readers can’t help but laugh.

DePalma brings the book to life in Chapter 6, “A Chapter in a Fantastic Novel.” His discussion of how Batista’s government responded to the Matthews-Castro interview adds an element of comic relief. Modern readers may be reminded of other dictators who have suppressed press freedom, including Saddam Hussein, who regularly denied claims documented by the international press to be true.

The author recounts how academic dissident Mario Llerena subverted Cuban media censors by mailing Matthews’ articles from New York City to influential citizens inside Cuba. He bolsters reader sympathy by demonstrating that Castro had a level of legitimacy among academics and moderates during his rise to power. At this point in the book, readers begin to question how U.S.-Cuban relations could have become so frigid over the past five decades.

By Chapter 7, readers can see a clear personal connection between Matthews and his subjects – Castro and the Cuban people – and are left with a sense of uneasiness about Matthews’ bias towards Castro.

By Chapter 9, “You Can Fool Some of the People,” the tide of American opinion on Castro has turned. It is at this point DePalma makes reference to the coming Bay of Pigs invasion. It feels a bit rushed to read a chapter about Castro as an enemy of the United States after reading seven chapters that continually build him up into a hero.

The author draws the book to an end with “A Good Fight.” He says Castro has been more committed to personal power than Communist dogma. This is a reasonable conclusion to the facts he laid out in “The Man Who Invented Fidel.”

DePalma’s honest examination of the Matthews-Castro connection places a spotlight on the issues that arise when journalists become involved in the subjects they cover, serving as a warning to all who may enter the field. This book gives readers specific examples of how the news media have been stifled over the past decades in Cuba, helping them understand why Freedom House has designated Cuba as “not free” on its 2007 Map of Press Freedom.

“The Man Who Invented Fidel” gives readers a fresh perspective on Cuban-American relations; one that is not generally taught in the American educational system. This book is a “must-read” for anyone interested in Cuban-American relations.