American Dirt

American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins is an incredibly moving and powerful novel. With that said, it’s a strange time to be reading a novel about migrants coming to the US in today’s time. The story about Lydia and her son running from a Mexican drug cartel after they killed her entire family is very moving and you feel heartbreak for them. Throughout the book the telling of how they made it from Acapulco to the US is very moving and terrifying. I don’t know how anyone would be able to do that. The story is so emotional and heartbreaking and brings you up and down in feelings with everything they go through. I know I couldn’t do it and I know it’s a book but I also believe there are people going through this to try to get to the US. All that aside, the writing was very good with very good written characters.

Jeanine Cummins' American Dirt is a haunting, heart-racing journey that follows Lydia and her son, Luca, as they flee cartel violence in Mexico. Forced from a comfortable life in Acapulco, they face unimaginable dangers on a desperate trek to the U.S., bringing readers face-to-face with the harrowing realities of migration. Cummins’ storytelling is unflinching, blending suspense and compassion in every page. Her characters feel achingly real, their resilience both inspiring and heartbreaking. With vivid prose, Cummins captures the chaos of La Bestia, the unforgiving desert, and the constant fear that looms over Lydia and Luca’s journey. While sparking conversations on representation, American Dirt undeniably sheds light on the plight of those forced to migrate, offering a lens into the courage it takes to seek a better life. This novel is essential reading—gripping, eye-opening, and ultimately a testament to the strength of a mother’s love.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Jeanine Cummins is greatly disturbed over the controversy surrounding her new novel, “American Dirt.” The main point of contention is, I believe, that a white woman could write such an invasive opinion piece about Latino immigrants when she has no actual experience in their actual hardships. For the most part, from what I read, is that Latin American critics are the most vociferous. They seem to feel underrepresented in the literary publishing field. Having a white woman with no background in their plight gather so much positive attention seems to be galling and, as a result, they are speaking out against Cummins’ honest attempt at bringing the current situation to light. Cummins, of course, doesn’t agree with all this BS, and continues to cash her checks Her story goes that Lydia Quixano Perez owns a bookstore in in the Mexican City of Acapulco (even the author’s choice of a name for her lead character gets scoffs). Her life is mostly successful and profitable. A new customer, Javier, a highly educated young man, immediately charms Lydia, with his love for books, especially those that are also favorites of hers. His visits are more and more frequent, their talks about the books over coffee become more intimate, and it soon become apparent there is a romantic spark developing. Eventually Lydia discovers that Javier is the chief of a vicious local drug cartel that has taken over the entire city. Lydia’s husband, a prominent investigative journalist also learns of the cartel involvement and writes a tell-all news piece that greatly upsets the drug lord, who promptly initiates a kill order to be performed at an outdoor party on Lydia’s family and 21 of her closest relatives, including her mother and father, husband some siblings and grandparents, aunts and uncles. Lydia and 8-year-old son Luca are the only survivors and, knowing that Javier intends to kill them also, the paire are transformed into migrants heading for “el norte” and safety. Their hasty departure and desperate flight forces them to join thousands of others also running from something, that journey forming the main content of Cummins’ story. I believed it is an honest attempt at trying to acquaint the reader with today’s news accounts of the immigration rush to America’s borders. I thought it was well-written, well-researched and accurately depicted and that’s where I found myself at odds with more famous critics. That’s where you, as a reader, come into the picture. You will have to be the final word in this controversy. As it’s going now, the readers seem to be in favor of Cummins’ version of her story. That’s probably the correct view. Writers can write about anything they want. The final work is the most significant indicator as to how well they did or didn’t do. Personally, I feel that the author was very successful at producing what she intended. Her research filled in the blanks where her intimate knowledge faltered and for those of us who know no differently, it was an entertaining and riveting read. The lapses being criticized are too esoteric for most of us. So, my recommendation is to buy and read this book, enjoy it for the story it tells, and don’t try to read too much into the “unqualified writer” brouhaha. The story is riveting. Schuyler T Wallace Author of TIN LIZARD TALES

This book was engaging from start to finish. It begins with the horrific setting of a family massacre; committed during a birthday celebration at the home of Lydia and Sebastian. Lydia and her eight-year-old son, Luca, were the sole survivors. They hid themselves in a bathtub while listening in terror as gunshots rang out in the front yard, where family were barbequing chicken. Fifteen people were killed, including Lydia’s mother and her husband, Sebastian. There wasn’t time to grieve, or to make funeral arrangements for the victims. Lydia’s focus was on her and her son Luca’s safety. They left their home in Acapulco with utmost haste and urgency. Their destination was El Norte. Early in their journey, Lydia recollects the events which led to her family being targeted for annihilation. Her husband, Sebastian, was a journalist. He wrote an article profiling Acapulco’s new drug cartel potentate, a man she knew as Javier. She had met Javier when he entered her bookstore. They became friends, sharing an interest in poetry. She could not have imagined, in her wildest dreams, that this seemingly kind and cultured man, was head of a drug cartel. She could not have foreseen that the article Sebastian wrote would be read by Javier’s beloved daughter, Marta, who was away at college. Devastated by the news of her father’s nefarious deeds, Marta hung herself in her dorm room, provoking the vengeful wrath of Javier. So, along their perilous journey, Lydia had to watch her back, and keep a vigilant eye for potential sicarios employed by Javier. Cummins provides a searing description of Lydia and Luca’s trek to El Norte; a journey entailing fifty-three days and 2,645 miles from the site of the massacre. She gives the reader a poignant depiction of the people Lydia and Luca encounter along the way, beautifully illuminating their shared humanity. Cummins skillfully encapsulates the varied circumstances which led ‘El migra’ to leave their homes and family members. Some were escaping the tyranny of cartels. Some were avoiding becoming sex slaves. Some had been deported, and are now seeking a return to El Norte, and to a life offering an opportunity to earn a living, as modest and unassuming as that may be. A Ph.D. candidate was a deportee who joined Lydia’s group late in their journey. American Dirt is a must read. The gritty, intricate plot will keep you engrossed. The breadth and depth of the characters will enlighten and broaden an empathetic sensibility. It’s ending, culminating on American soil, will pull at the heartstrings.

First, all the blurbs are right. This is both a great page-turner and a heartrending story of flight, exile, hope, and horror--all a result of the lawlessness south of the border (a cartel economy impossible without American consumption) and the inhumane policies of the USA at the border. It is simply impossible to read the first seven pages without being propelled into the characters' lives (a mother and her 8 year old son who must flee North from a murderous cartel after the cartel slaughters most of their family, including the father). It is also a book that will make you weep--not once but many times. The ending is almost unbearable. Read this book--it's simply amazing. Now, the lost chance. This book could have changed the "debate" in America around immigration. It could have been the Grapes of Wrath or the To Kill a Mockingbird of its generation--books that helped make a minority view, a majority one--that made unions and social welfare mainstream (in the first case) and helped put the nail in the coffin of Jim Crow by making it impossible for moderate whites to remain detached from the evils of discrimination (in the second case). You cannot read this book without recognizing the profound humanity of those who seek a better life by migrating North to America. You cannot read this book without identifying with their fears and dreams. You cannot read this book without this humanization impacting your political views of the immigration issue. This book widely vetted, widely read, brought into the curriculum of high schools and colleges could have made certain narratives untenable and others more inevitable. But all that was derailed by the politics of resentment, which made the issue not the story, but the color of the skin of the author and the large advance she received for a book that, as a publishing investment, proved that advance to be a wise business decision (as the book was a number one bestseller). This racism forced a cancellation of the book tour, and made the conversation in the media focus not on the story and the themes of the novel (including its policy implications), but the color of the author's skin (yes I will keep saying that) and her contract (which is really nobody else's business). If you don't think this reaction was, quite simply, racist, ask yourself one question: if the book had been published with an author's name on the cover that was Latina, would it have been excoriated (as it was by many who practice the politics of resentment) or the recipient of an avalanche of praise for its profundity and elevation of the story of Mexican migrants? As a reader of many novels (and many blurbs) by authors of all ethnic identities, I have zero doubt as to the answer to this question. Those who culturally buried this book buried their own opportunity to use it as a platform for change--they ensured that polarization and inertia on this issue would remain intact, that the narratives would be Trumpism vs. Virtue Signaling, with both sides turning the human stories of undocumented migrants into objects--counters--for their pathetic rhetorical posturing. They preferred the self-righteousness of resentment to a step in the right direction.

This book was free through Kindle Unlimited and, because it was an Oprah book club choice, I uploaded it. From the opening paragraph, it grabbed me by my heart and soul. The story of a woman and her son on the run from a dangerous cartel boss who arranged the murders of her journalist husband and entire extended family came to vivid, wrenching life for me. As a writer myself, I was in awe of the perfect, beautiful, breathtaking, horrifying sentences. I couldn't stop reading as I joined the pair on their perilous journey from Aculpoco to the southern border. I kept wondering how I had not heard about this amazing book. I stopped reading and started researching the author and found out about the huge controversy that ensued surrounding Oprah's book club choice in early 2020 as COVID began to choke the planet. Concentrating on other things, I did not know about how many Latin American writers protested this white woman's book, which told the stories they were trying desperately to get the world to hear. While American publishing houses were barely considering their work, hers was elevated by the powers of Oprah and publishers who seemed to prefer this author's well-researched but not-lived version of the Latin reality. As an author myself, I am always aware that the prizes go to those who can tell the most compelling stories, period. "American Dirt," is one of the best-written, most horrifying, love-filled stories I've ever read. Certainly, Latinx writers should raise their voices against powerful publishing houses that don't welcome more diverse voices to their industry, but please give Jeanine Cummins her due for writing so masterfully about the human condition while illuminating the very desperate and real humanitarian crisis at America's southern border. I cared deeply about these characters. I worried about the people within the pages when I had to stop reading. The author used her substantial gifts to try and help us understand that at any moment, the security within any of our lives could be ripped away and we could become someone we might not recognize. Within her unforgettable story, Cummins wants us to see how alike we all are in our common desire to live safely and in peace among those we love; and yet how unique and precious each of us are. This book helps turn the kaleidoscope just a little bit towards a more richly colored image of our ever-changing world. It's inspirational and uplifting. I cannot wait for the movie.

Early in 2019, my book group read Philip Caputo's novel, "Some Rise by Sin". The book has strong religious themes and tells a story of a Mexican drug cartel and its impact on the poor. The book stresses the pervasive nature of the cartel or "Brotherhood" and how it infiltrates all aspects of Mexican life. Our group is in the process of reading another novel set in Mexico and dealing with drug cartels. In contrast to the ponderous character of "Some Rise by Sin" and its focus on religious themes, Jeanine Cummins novel "American Dirt" is a page-turner. The novel tells the story of Lydia Perez and her eight year old son, Luca, who are forced to flee Acapulco and take their chances in reaching and entering the United States when they find themselves in the sights of a Mexican drug cartel. The book is a suspense story with elements of a picaresque road novel as it shows the many people and places Lydia and her son meet on their harrowing journey. The novel opens with a shocking scene in which Lydia's family is gunned down during a birthday celebration after Lydia's husband, a journalist, has written an expose of the newly-dominant cartel. Lydia owns a bookstore in Acapulco. She has become close friends with one of her patrons, Javier, a would-be poet and devoted reader. Lydia does not at first recognize Javier as the cartel leader. When the rest of the family, including Lydia's husband is killed by Javier's gang at the party while she and Luca hide in the house, she concludes that she must flee. Cummins describes Lydia's flight to the United States over 53 days 2,645 miles. She must watch vigilantly at every step to avoid the powerful, ever-present cartel. During the journey, she and Lucas meet many people, including fellow-migrants, kind individuals who try to assist the migrants, members of the cartel, and people in many Mexican cities and towns who try to live their lives and not to become involved with the cartel. The many characters in the story include two beautiful teenage sisters fleeing from Guatemala, who face many difficulties from sexually predatory men before and during their flight for a better life. Much of the flight of Lydia and Luca and their fellow migrants takes place on freight trains nicknamed "La Bestia". The migrants become adept at the task of scaling the freight railroads heading north. This mode of transportation has its risks, which are graphically described in the story. In addition to riding La Bestia, the other large part of the journey begins with Lydia and Luca reach a border town and need to arrange for their crossing into the United States. Together with several other migrants, friendly and unfriendly, they enlist the services of a coyote -- an individual who leads immigrants on the treacherous journey through the desert to make an illegal entry into el norte, The book offers a personalized portrayal of the coyote and of the brutal, high-risk nature of the journey. The book held my attention during several cold and icy days as I followed the journey of Lydia and Luca and was moved by the risks they faced and by the acts of kindness and compassion by those who helped them along the way, including several priests. Although it has a melodramatic component, the book reads well and for the most part convincingly. The book tells a story of the impact of the drug trade and the search of some individuals to find a better life. I enjoyed reading this book in a group, together with the Caputo novel, to get pictures of the Mexican drug cartels and their impact as viewed through the eyes of two United States novelists. Robin Friedman

American Dirt is one of the best novels I have read. It’s realistic, poignant, beautifully written and well-researched. It’s the story of an affluent Mexican woman from Acapulco who is driven from he home when her family is massacred by a drug cartel, because her husband, a journalist, wrote a newspaper article about a local drug lord. The woman, Lydia, and her eight-year old son Luca find themselves a part of the great horde of migrants making their way to the United States in search of a better life. Along the way, they meet many memorable characters, most good, some evil. Most importantly, I gained a deep and lasting appreciation of the migrant experience. American Dirt has been pilloried by some in the media who think that the author did not have the qualifications to write it, i.e., she is not Mexican, not a migrant, and did not live the experience herself. This is extremely wrong-headed. Ms. Cummins has done a great service for Mexican, Central American and South American migrants by popularizing their tragic experiences, much as John Steinbeck did for American tenant farmers during the dust bowl in Grapes of Wrath, and Herman Wouk for victims of the Holocaust in Winds of War. One does not have to be a member of an ethnic group to empathize with its members or accurately recount their experiences-basic humanity and a talent for writing and research is all that’s required. The book has also been criticized for fictionalizing a great tragedy of our times, but the novelist Ayn Rand knew that popular fiction is often a much more effective means of promoting social change than mere journalism is. The author has been accused of stereotyping Mexicans, but all I found here were well-drawn, complex characters. I verified her research continuously as I read the book, and I found no inaccuracies, from the destruction of the beautiful city of Acapulco by the cartels, the pestilence of gangs and warlords haunting the Mexican highways, or the horrors of riding La Bestia, the freight trains that carry the migrants on top of them, between borders. I was particularly heartened by Cummins’ descriptions of the services provided for migrants by ordinary Mexicans, who donate food, water, shelter and support to them in sympathy with their plight. Of course, some may say that my opinion is invalid, because I am not Mexican. But I say kudos to Ms. Cummis for her bravery, which is already resulting in unjust repudiation. No book is perfect, including this one. The story did lag in places due to over-description. And perhaps Ms Cummins should have chosen a more plebian tragedy that caused her protagonist to be uprooted, although the murder of journalists, law enforcement and government official by cartels is rampant in Mexico. But these are minor quibbles about a very great and important book.