García's novels explore the memories, histories, and cultural rituals of her Cuban heritage and that of the diaspora in the United States and globally.

[1] García pursued a career in journalism following graduate school after having worked as a part-time "copy girl" with The New York Times.

After the first three novels—I think of them as a loose trilogy—I wanted to tackle a bigger canvas, more far-flung migrations, the fascinating work of constructing identity in an increasingly small and fractured world.

"[7] At that time García described this "bigger canvas" as including "the entrapments and trappings of gender," partly because "it would be easy, and overly simplistic, to frame everything in terms of equality, or cultural limitations, or other vivid measurables.

What's most interesting to me are the slow, internal, often largely unconscious processes that move people in unexpected directions, that reframe and refine their own notions of who they are, sexually and otherwise.

While García has expressed a desire to avoid overt and propagandistic politics the influence of her heritage is made clear when she discusses the symbolism and characters in her work.

From his perches, he witnesses the greater violence of the civil war in El Salvador and speaks a peculiar poetry, born, in part, of his co-existence with trees.

[7]"King of Cuba" is a darkly comic fictionalized portrait of Fidel Castro, an octogenarian exile, and a rabble of other Cuban voices who refuse to accept their power is ending.