A renowned graphic artist and painter writes of his early life in Cuba and later life in U.S. exile, finding parallels in both countries, "where men with guns made the decisions."Born in 1971, Rodriguez came of age in the Cuban countryside, where, owing to an entrepreneurially minded father, the family sometimes had a little more food than their neighbors. Both parents knew how to navigate the system: "Mamá would never mention Fidel Castro's name. When referring to him, she would quietly rub her cheek to indicate Castro's beard, so that no passing neighbors would hear her speaking of El Comandante." It was their children's being spirited off to school to be indoctrinated, among other things, that convinced the parents to abandon their homeland and join the Marielito boatlift of 1980. They arrived in the U.S. and rebuilt their lives, with Rodriguez working odd jobs until moving to New York to attend art school. Rodriguez emerged there as a critic of Donald Trump's presidency so well known as to draw down denunciation from the man himself. To that, the author has a simple reply: "To an immigrant like me, America is a dream, a land of freedom and opportunity where one can work and express oneself without fear of violence or political persecution. For me, January 6, 2021, shattered the dream." A few scenes, such as those depicting time spent in a holding camp before boarding their boat to freedom, might have been condensed in the interest of heightening the drama. Nonetheless, the well-rendered graphic story is plenty dramatic on its own, and it's significant not just for its portrayal of Castro's Cuba but also for offering evidence that the Cuban American exile community is not politically monolithic.A sharply observed document of totalitarianism and its discontents-this gifted artist in particular.

A renowned graphic artist and painter writes of his early life in Cuba and later life in U.S. exile, finding parallels in both countries, "where men with guns made the decisions."Born in 1971, Rodriguez came of age in the Cuban countryside, where, owing to an entrepreneurially minded father, the family sometimes had a little more food than their neighbors. Both parents knew how to navigate the system: "Mamá would never mention Fidel Castro's name. When referring to him, she would quietly rub her cheek to indicate Castro's beard, so that no passing neighbors would hear her speaking of El Comandante." It was their children's being spirited off to school to be indoctrinated, among other things, that convinced the parents to abandon their homeland and join the Marielito boatlift of 1980. They arrived in the U.S. and rebuilt their lives, with Rodriguez working odd jobs until moving to New York to attend art school. Rodriguez emerged there as a critic of Donald Trump's presidency so well known as to draw down denunciation from the man himself. To that, the author has a simple reply: "To an immigrant like me, America is a dream, a land of freedom and opportunity where one can work and express oneself without fear of violence or political persecution. For me, January 6, 2021, shattered the dream." A few scenes, such as those depicting time spent in a holding camp before boarding their boat to freedom, might have been condensed in the interest of heightening the drama. Nonetheless, the well-rendered graphic story is plenty dramatic on its own, and it's significant not just for its portrayal of Castro's Cuba but also for offering evidence that the Cuban American exile community is not politically monolithic.A sharply observed document of totalitarianism and its discontents-this gifted artist in particular.

In depicting both Cuba and the United States at their best and worst, Time cover artist Rodriguez’s debut graphic memoir is a stunningly rendered elegy for the dreams of revolutionaries, immigrants, and parents. The story begins with Rodriguez’s birth in 1971 in a small town south of Havana. Scarcity forces Cubans to be resourceful and his father opens a successful photography studio, but not without arousing the suspicion of the Communist Party. Rodriguez’s parents decide to leave when they begin to believe government-run schools are brainwashing children. In 1980, the government agrees to let people leave by boat—but not without stalling, harassing, and calling them “worms.” The family makes it to Miami on a Jamaican shrimp boat. Later, Rodriguez studies art at New York City’s Pratt Institute. In 2016, he recognizes similarities between the rises of Donald Trump and Fidel Castro: “I saw shades of my childhood in Cuba, of the repudiation acts against people considered enemies.” As his art pushes back against totalitarianism and media bias, he counters insults by declaring, “I lost one country. I’m not going to lose another without a fight.” The comics feature strong black line drawings against red and army-green backgrounds, with Trump-related images inserted as a shock of orange and yellow. It’s a bracing warning bell for any reader concerned about the future of American democracy. (Nov.)