The Ghost in the Ceiba Tree: Why Anita De Monte Laughs Last Is the Latinx Art Novel We've Been Waiting For

What if you could get a book that offers all of this and more—one that represents the obstacles of Latina women of color while incorporating cultural elements readers can resonate with on a personal level?

Picture this: a novel that perfectly blends artists, art history, and romance. A book lover's dream, right? You might gravitate toward The Venice Sketchbook by Rhys Bowen—a dual timeline following Caroline as she uncovers her great-aunt's WWII secrets. Or maybe Secret Life of Sunflowers by Marta Molnar, where Emsley discovers Van Gogh's sister-in-law's diary among her grandmother's belongings. Both explore love, loss, and self-discovery while unearthing long-buried secrets.

But what if you could get a book that offers all of this and more—one that represents the obstacles of Latina women of color while incorporating cultural elements readers can resonate with on a personal level?

Enter Anita de Monte Laughs Last by Xochitl Gonzalez.

Two Women, Two Decades, One Struggle

This refreshing Latinx art novel weaves together the story of forgotten Cuban artist Anita de Monte in the 1980s and Puerto Rican-American Raquel Toro in the late 1990s. Anita battles marginalization in the art world and oppression from her abusive husband—even after her death. A decade later, Raquel navigates her identity as a Latina at Brown University, constantly reminded of her supposed inferiority in elite spaces.

When Raquel encounters Anita's story, the parallels transform how she sees herself and her place in society.

Unlike typical art-focused novels, Gonzalez introduces the social and cultural obstacles faced by women of color—a perspective usually overlooked in this genre. Through dual timelines, the book celebrates art and self-discovery while critiquing the barriers that keep certain voices silenced. Beautifully written with bold stylistic choices, it doesn't just entertain—it challenges readers to acknowledge struggles they may have never experienced.

The author makes a risky yet impressive choice that is fairly new to mainstream literature—she reincarnates Anita as a bat, preserving her voice and allowing her to continue her story.

Gonzalez masterfully creates scenes depicting the reality of women of color in spaces where they're perpetual outsiders. At a Berkeley dinner party with her husband Jack Martin, a guest asks Anita: "Jack was telling us that your father was a Castro revolutionary."

Anita's internal response cuts deep: "I noticed how often Jack was telling this story... Anita Tropicana, his little Communist Cuban girlfriend... Stripped of my profession, distilled to a few anecdotes that bathed him in a cascade of edginess. The working man's little woman."

This reflection reveals how frequently Latina women are reduced to possessions rather than people with real feelings and talent—forced to embody controversy instead of being praised for their abilities.

In another scene, Raquel dines with her older white boyfriend Nick's parents. Criticizing Nick's rebellious sister, his father says: "The deserving aren't always those born into opportunity. I can only imagine what someone like Raquel would have done with that same chance."

Though meant as a compliment, the remark reinforces that Raquel is someone who doesn't "usually have it easy." Through these interactions, Gonzalez shows how society reduces women of color to stereotypes that diminish their individuality.

Gonzalez's writing style feels fresh and modern, dramatically enhancing the reading experience. She plays with perspective brilliantly: Anita's story unfolds in first-person, giving us access to her thoughts even after death, while Raquel's narrative uses third-person limited.

Here's where it gets wild: Gonzalez reincarnates Anita as a bat.

It sounds comical at first, but this bold choice alludes to powerful aspects of Afro-Cuban culture—santería and spiritualism. Anita resides in a ceiba tree, believed to connect the earthly world to spiritual heavens. This creative element doesn't just deepen the story; it introduces readers to traditional Cuban perceptions of the afterlife.

These sensory-rich images allow readers to delve into a deeply enriching life and culture—the ceaseless bachata and boleros, La Mega 97.9, and the incessant singing.

Surprisingly, Gonzalez includes Jack Martin's perspective after Anita's death. Rather than detracting from a story centered on Latina women, his viewpoint offers insight into the privileged, entitled attitudes of white men toward women like Anita. It intensifies our desire to root against him.

Readers get what they crave: the protagonists' happy endings and Jack's downfall. By including his story, Gonzalez delivers a complete and satisfying arc.

Gonzalez magnificently captures the Puerto Rican Brooklyn experience through Raquel. In one scene, Raquel contrasts her home life with Brown University: "The ceaseless bachata and boleros of their upstairs neighbor, her own mother's blasting of La Mega 97.9 and 98.7 Kiss FM and the incessant singing when she was home."

These details craft vivid, authentic imagery. For those unfamiliar with this world, these sensory-rich passages offer immersion into a deeply enriching culture.

Why This Book Matters Now

Despite being set over 20 years ago, this novel couldn't be more relevant. Conversations about Latinx culture and art movements are exploding. NYU's Latinx Project, founded in 2018, promotes Latinx art through creative programs and exhibitions, creating space for artists to share their work. Project founding director Professor Arlene Davila has published extensively on Latinx politics, markets, and art.

Anita de Monte Laughs Last is vital to this movement, providing context for why these projects are necessary while contributing to the movement itself.

If you're seeking a story that's art-based but also culturally rich, resonant, and relevant, Gonzalez's work is an unmissable gem. This isn't just another art novel—it's a reclamation, a resurrection, and a revolution all at once.