Sat Oct 05
The Wind Knows My Name by Isabel Allende
A touching exploration of survival, loss, and resilience, The Wind Knows My Name weaves together the lives of three children displaced by violence across different eras and continents. From the horrors of Kristallnacht to the U.S.-Mexico border crisis, Allende’s latest novel examines the emotional aftermath of displacement.
Displacement Stories Across Time and Continents
Isabel Allende is an author whose name I’ve often heard, but I hadn’t felt compelled to read any of her books—until now. Her latest novel, The Wind Knows My Name, seemed to appear everywhere, and when I finally stumbled upon it in the library, I took it as a sign to give her work a chance.
The novel spans several decades, moving from Vienna in 1938, across El Salvador, and eventually to United States, following multiple characters. At first, their stories seem disconnected, playing out in different timelines, but they eventually converge in a meaningful way.
What ties these characters together is their shared experience of becoming refugees as children. For Samuel Adler, this happened in 1938 at the age of six, in the aftermath of Kristallnacht, when he was sent to England via the Kindertransport. Leticia Cordero’s life changed in 1981, when she was seven, fleeing the El Mozote massacre in El Salvador that left her without her family, except for her father. Lastly, in 2019, Anita Diaz and her mother, escaping violence in El Salvador, sought refuge in the U.S., only to be detained. The stories of these three characters eventually intersect through Selena Durán, a social worker dedicated to helping refugees and immigrants.
I have to admit, the story didn’t immediately draw me in. It took several chapters to understand why we were given different points of view and characters, and I kept wondering how they were all connected. The case of Anita, dealing with family separation at the Mexico-US border, is certainly a topic worth exploring. However, I found her tone lacking in emotional depth. When I finished the book, I didn’t feel the emotional impact I had expected, and I’m still not sure why. Could something have been lost in translation from Spanish to English? Or perhaps Allende’s writing style simply doesn’t resonate with me.
The closest explanation I can find is that the story didn’t truly dive into the suffering of the children as the events unfolded. Instead, it focused on the aftermath. I believe the narrative would have been more immersive if it had explored the trauma as it was happening, rather than reflecting on it after the fact. In the end, I’m glad I read this book, though I’m unsure if I’d choose to read more of Isabel Allende’s work.