A Book A Week

Since it published earlier this year, American Dirt has been mired in controversy. The novel by Jeanine Cummins led to a bidding war amongst major publishing houses and initially garnered glowing reviews. It was even chosen by Oprah to be part of her famous book club. The shimmering reception quickly gave way to harsh criticisms. Many argue that Cummins, a white woman, has no right to present a story about Mexican refugees, especially when the voices of Latinx authors who have lived this story have been consistently underrepresented or outright stifled by publishers. This controversy has forced the publishing industry to take a critical look at the way they acquire, print, and promote books, a conversation that has grown beyond even this one particular novel. Still, the question remains. Is American Dirt any good? Determined to draw my own conclusions about the novel, I decided to give it a listen.

American Dirt begins with a literal bang. Lydia clutches her eight-year-old son Luca from behind the shower curtain of the bathroom. The pair is immobilized by fear as gunshots ring throughout the house, murdering their entire family. If they make even the slightest move or sound, their fate will be the same. What started as a day of celebration with extended family has shifted to one of tragedy and grief. Sitting there listening to the sound of her family's slaughter, Lydia knows exactly what precipitated this violence. Her husband, a reporter, recently published an article about the notorious head of a Mexican drug cartel. This is clearly an act of revenge, a kind of tic for tac. When the sicarios finally leave, the house is filled with a silence that only comes from the absence of life. Lydia and Luca are the only surviving members of the family and the only lives preventing the jefe from finalizing his revenge. Lydia knows what she must do. She must escape the country and seek refuge in a place where she can't be found.

I think that it is best to critique American Dirt on two levels. One based purely on the novel itself and the second being a larger reflection on the controversy that has surfaced because of it. Jeanine Cummins sets her immigrant story within a thriller. Yes, there are obvious commentaries about the plight of refugees and their reasons for undertaking such a perilous journey, but at its heart, the novel is a thriller. As such, it is the kind of book that keeps you reading, unable to look away (or in my case stop listening) until you've finished the entire thing. Cummins deserves credit for presenting a story about refugees in a way that grabs the reader's attention and forces them to face the harsh realities that it presents. Whatever your thoughts about the novel, I think it is important to recognize that this is a story that often is untold and that the book's success means that many people will connect and be exposed to a story that they would otherwise be ignorant or indifferent to. At its best, American Dirt humanizes immigrants in a way that seeing throngs of people detained on the news fails to.

All that considered, I found many flaws to the narrative itself that I couldn't ignore. Luca is an incredibly bright child who is imbued with knowledge that felt like it was more in service of advancing the plot than developing his character. The child has an almost savant-like predisposition to understanding maps and sensing direction. Cummins attempts to present this as a way for us to connect with Luca as if to say, " Look at how bright this kid is. He deserves our admiration." In reality, his predisposition to direction was more in service of helping the family navigate their way to freedom, a trait that I found to be a bit too convenient to be believable. There is also the fact that Lydia comes from a family of financial privilege. She isn't escaping poverty and violence in search of better opportunity. She has already been afforded that opportunity, even drawing on her sizable bank account to buy safe passage at several points in the book. These two particular characteristics aided in the pace of the novel, but detracted from the sense of reality.

Finally we come to the controversy of American Dirt. There are many criticisms to be made about the novel, but I don't think the flaws of the book itself warrant any kind of cancelation or hate. They simply make it a so-so read. Where the real controversy lies is with the publishing industry at large. It is odd that the book by a white woman about Mexican refugees has garnered this kind of acclaim and prominence when many Latinx authors have written about the same topic to little fanfare. The publishing system in place tilts the scales in favor of white creators. I think that American Dirt has simply brought this conversation to a boiling point that has made more people take notice of this problem. What really matters now is what we and the people in power choose to do next. Publishers must take a hard look at how they can diversify the authors and content that they present. They must do more to give voices to a variety of authors who present a variety of stories. We as readers, in turn, must support these voices. Support the places and publishers who value diversity by publishing and selling books by diverse authors. Buy the books by these authors and share these stories through whatever means you have available. At the end of the day, American Dirt will not be remembered as a great work of literature, but it just might be remembered for the movement and change that it inspired.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2020, 26)