American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins

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Mrs. Mellark selected July’s pick for No Vacancy Book Club: American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins.

American Dirt is the story of Lydia Perez, a bookstore owner from Acapulco, who accidentally befriends the boss of the city’s new drug cartel, a man named Javier Fuentes. When Lydia’s reporter husband, Sebastian, writes a tell-all profile on Javier, it triggers a series of events that force Lydia to flee Mexico with her eight-year-old son, Luca. After conventional methods of escape fail, Lydia finds herself and her son as migrants forced to ride La Bestia- the trains leading to the north. In her desperate attempts to escape Javier’s grasp and save the life of her son, Lydia encounters a variety of characters- some good, some bad, but ALL equally determined to reach the United States.

Wow! The opening chapter of American Dirt is like getting dropped on a treadmill at full speed – it’s a page-turner right out of the gate. Even more impressive than its breakneck pace is Cummins' ability to balance the action with meaningful character development, which is often neglected in books with plots that move this quickly.

I had no idea of the controversy surrounding this book until after I finished it. Ironically, it seems the inclusion of American Dirt on Oprah’s Book Club exacerbated its fall from grace. Had it not garnered such attention, it would’ve been spared much of the backlash.

I’ve read a variety of complaints, ranging from the author’s cultural identity as a white woman, her depiction of Mexico as “a dark hellhole,” and the socioeconomic status of the main character. I don’t feel ANY of these claims are fair, but this last charge- that Lydia is too wealthy to represent the migrant struggle- is the one I feel most compelled to defend Cummins on.

Contrary to critics’ claims, I feel Lydia’s socioeconomic status makes her far more relatable to the average American reader. If Cummins’ goal is to upend popular stereotypes about migrants, what better way to do so? Cummins reaches beyond the politics of immigration and cuts straight to the reader’s heart. In making Lydia relatable, the reader walks away with a more compassionate perspective on the migrant experience. How is that a bad thing?

As for Cummins’ writing, I don’t see how anyone can deny her talent. There are so many amazing lines of prose in this book. One of my favorite quotes describes grief. Lydia feels “as tatty as a scrap of lace, defined not so much by what she’s made of, but more by the shapes of what’s missing.” Another highlight for me is Cummins’ depiction of the “bad guy.” Javier is chillingly wicked. Descriptions of him beg for psychological profiling- he is the ultimate villain.

Admittedly, American Dirt is not a “feel-good” book. It is brutal, infuriating, and often heartbreaking, but it forces readers to take a hard look at the realities of the migrant experience. It also offers a stunning portrayal of a mother’s love. I’ll be thinking about this one for a long time.

- Mrs. Mellark