Visions of Power is indeed full of powerful visions: Raúl Castro handing out cups of espresso to US travel agents, a badge reading “Ask me! I live here” pinned to his fatigues; a film parody showing hundreds of peasants staging a mock funeral for their own ignorance; imprisoned counterrevolutionary men cradling baby dolls and singing them lullabies. Such images of revolutionary Cuba accumulate in popular memory over time, and Lillian Guerra’s many years of research provide her with opportunities to tap into the deep historical literacy common among Cubans. “You are a historian because you wish to be,” one woman told Guerra at a bus stop in 1998; “we are historians because we have to be” (p. 35).
Writing a history of the Cuban Revolution requires documenting the manifold stories that have given it meaning. This has long presented researchers with a nearly insurmountable obstacle. Very few scholars gain access...
