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My reading goal for last year was to complete 20 books which I had naively presumed to be a realistic target. I had a great start and made promising headway but my reading pace began to slacken drastically after the second half of the year (the non-fiction did me in, you guys). I managed to read 16/20 books which is not too shabby but I was a bit disappointed not to have fulfilled my goal. I hope to have better luck this year *fingers crossed*.

For my first read of 2022, I chose American Dirt, a 2020 fiction novel by American author Jeanine Cummins about the ordeal of a Mexican mother and son duo who are forced to flee their life and escape as undocumented immigrants into the United States.

The publisher of American Dirt, Flatiron Books, undertook a massive publicity campaign, including sending boxes of copies to libraries near the Mexican border, holding a release party, and obtaining blurbs from big names in the literary world like Stephen King, Sandra Cisneros, Don Winslow and John Grisham. In January 2020, a day before the book's release, Oprah Winfrey announced that she had selected the novel for her book club.

American Dirt debuted on New York Times best sellers list as the #1 on the list for the week of February 9, 2020. Despite initial positive reviews and its status as one of the best-selling books of 2020, it has also generated controversy for its alleged inaccurate portrayal of Mexico and Mexicans.

*** Plot***

The story begins in Acapulco, located in Mexico. The picturesque beach resort town is caught in the grip of violence from narcotic cartel turf wars. A new cartel called Los Jardineros headed by a relatively anonymous drug kingpin nicknamed “The Owl” is making their ominous presence felt within the community.

Lydia Pérez is a doting wife, loving mother and library owner going about her daily life in typical middle-class comfort. When her journalist husband Sebastián publishes a sensational exposé about the Owl, there are unforeseen repercussions and an unthinkable price to pay. Sixteen members of Lydia’s family are mercilessly slaughtered during a family barbecue. Lydia and her eight year old son Luca, are the only survivors and must flee north (el norte) via the infamous freight train, La Bestia, before it is too late. Their life as they have known it has been completely upended and they are relying on a barely-there plan, meagre savings and suppressed emotions to live another day. What makes matters worse is Lydia’s unwitting friendship with the Owl which makes the hunt for the duo, a deeply personal undertaking.

With menacing sicarios hot on their heels, Lydia and Luca must also contend with moles in the police force, kidnappers, robbers and vigilante groups while on an arduous and harrowing migrant trail to cross the border into safety and freedom.

On their epic journey, they experience kindness from complete strangers, form close-knit bonds with fellow migrants, live through nightmarish shared experiences and discover things about themselves they never thought possible.

My thoughts...

Having not read anything by Jeanine Cummins before, I was impressed by the author’s meticulous research and highly evocative writing style.

I love how the novel managed to elicit conflicting emotions as I was reading - on one hand I felt waves of panic wash over me and the next minute I perked up with a sunny ray of hope. The novel has managed to capture the themes of grief, terror, despair, courage and hope, exceptionally well. As a woman and a mother myself, I felt the keen sense of dread that the main protagonist, Lydia, was going through as it seeped from the pages and into every fiber of my being. There are some books that are deeply felt and for me, this was one of them.

The migrant journey that starts from Acapulco and traverses through Mexico city, Guadalajara, Sinaloa, and Nogales is peppered with vivid cultural references and geographical descriptions. The other migrants that join Lydia and Luca at different stages of their journey lend bit and pieces of their own backstories which further enhances the narrative. The stirring descriptions, interesting characters, adrenaline-pumping action and swift pace make for an enthralling plot, while the themes of injustice and fortitude take it a notch higher than your average thriller novel. While the story is not in any way representative of the average Mexican migrant fleeing their homeland in order to seek out a better life, this is nonetheless an important story being told at a vital point in time. Once I started the book, I couldn’t stay away from it for too long because I was so invested in the characters and was desperately rooting for them.

Lydia is, by far, the most well-etched out character. She is the embodiment of a mama bear trying to protect her cub at all costs. Her quiet dignity, courage and strength make her an empathetic character although at times she does tend to misread situations. The manner in which she compartmentalizes her emotions as a survival strategy has been insightfully portrayed. Luca is an endearing character and it is the mother-child relationship that significantly ups the emotional ante of the narrative. Through this and other examples in the story, the author has encapsulated the significance of maternal figures in Hispanic culture. I liked the supporting characters of Soledad, Rebecca, Beto and to a certain extent, even the coyote El Chacal.

Of course I did feel like certain characters weren’t entirely believable. Like the intellectual, charismatic, wannabe poet Javier aka The Owl who also just happens to be a cold-blooded killer and cartel jefe. I have been chilled to the bone by watching enough cartel documentaries and Netflix's Narcos Mexico so in my mind, the profile didn't quite add up. And while still on the subject of characters, being a mom of two seven-year old's, the eight-year old Luca seemed mature beyond his years. His manner of thinking and speaking did not strike me as realistic for a child. It also stuck me as a bit odd that the beautiful teenage sisters Soledad and Rebecca need to fight off lecherous men at almost every stage of the perilous journey whereas an older albeit still attractive single mother Lydia had no such problems whatsoever. Lastly, I must admit that the title of the book completely threw me off. I had no idea that the story would be the one it turned out to be. I assumed it was a political thriller shedding light on “the dirt” (metaphorically speaking) in America. I felt like the title of the novel could have been better thought out to mirror the content.

I would be remiss if I did not talk about the controversy surrounding the novel (which I became aware of only after I finished it). In the whole “who can tell what stories?” debate, I personally feel like a writer can write about anything that profoundly speaks to them as long as they are able to tread with humility and pull off their intentions responsibly. I imagine this is easier said than done. Kathryn Stockett, a Southern-born white author portrayed black maids in her novel, The Help. The author used her personal experiences growing up in the deep south during times of segregation in the 1960s to give her characters a voice. But she received some heat for perpetuating stereotypes and playing into the white savior narrative. On the other hand, even though the widely acclaimed, Booker prize winning novel, The White Tiger, has been written by an Indian, I felt like the author’s upbringing and background didn’t lend him credibility to provide an authentic voice to Balram, his uneducated, downtrodden and twisted main protagonist. For me, the novel peddled stereotypes and was rife with facile generalizations. So even though I agree that The White Tiger is a well written novel and sheds light on grim realities, I felt it unnecessarily vilified the country it was based in order to pander to a primarily Western audience (an effective but cynical narrative ploy to highlight the class and power dynamics in an exaggeratedly wretched third-world backdrop). Feel free to disagree with me on this but a one-dimensional and over-the-top critical perspective of familiar territory is something I cannot ignore.

In this case, Jeanine Cummins neither being Mexican nor a migrant (something I was surprised to learn), raised questions regarding the veracity of her perspective on the subject. There probably are certain valid points in the deluge of criticism that came her way but then again, I know all too well that I am hardly qualified to have an opinion on the representation of Mexicans or the plight of migrants. I have read many view points on this in order to enlighten myself but I am not going to permit any of them to corrupt my judgement of the book. Looking at American Dirt purely as a work of literary fiction, my opinion is that the novel's humane intentions definitely have the potential to bring about awareness and productive conversations about real and pressing issues.

Intense, riveting and pulsating with emotion in every page, American Dirt is a fascinating read.

Highly recommended.

My rating for this novel is