While doing research for both the book Barren and my new book Rejected (coming out fall 2025), it was recommended that I read American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins. Both Barren and Rejected have interactions with the Mexican cartel, and American Dirt dives directly into the challenges of escaping the cartel.
Jeanine Cummins’ American Dirt tells a gripping and emotionally charged story that begins with a burst of tragedy and follows a desperate, high-stakes journey across Mexico. At the heart of the novel are Lydia Quixano Pérez, a bookstore owner in Acapulco, and her eight-year-old son Luca. After a violent cartel massacre devastates their family, the two are thrust into a dangerous migration north toward the U.S. border. Once the story finds its rhythm, it becomes deeply compelling and almost impossible to put down.
The novel’s strength lies in its ability to create tension and urgency while weaving in tender, human moments amid the peril. The mother-son relationship, and the small acts of kindness they encounter along the way, make the stakes personal and emotionally resonant. The story gives readers an intimate look at the fear, loss, and determination that fuels migration from Mexico into the United States.
However, the reading experience is not without challenges. The narrative shifts between present and past tense, often during moments meant to provide backstory or emotional reflection, but these changes are not always clear. Instead of enhancing the depth of the characters, the tense changes sometimes feel jarring and disrupt the flow of the story. I found myself pausing and rereading passages to understand when an event was taking place.
Similarly, the point of view alternates, mostly between Lydia and young Luca. While this choice adds dimension to the narrative, especially seeing events through the eyes of a child, it can also be disorienting. The POV changes aren’t always signposted clearly, and I frequently had to backtrack to determine whose internal experience I was reading. This lack of clarity occasionally made it harder to stay fully immersed in the story.
Despite these structural issues, American Dirt remains a powerful and thought-provoking novel. The danger Lydia and Luca face is palpable, the people they meet are varied and compelling, and the overarching themes of survival, love, and sacrifice are universal. Readers who can push through the confusing shifts in tense and perspective will be rewarded with a story that is both heart-pounding and heartbreaking.
Ultimately, American Dirt is a novel that stirs strong emotions and provokes important questions—even if its storytelling style occasionally leaves you reaching for the rewind button.
Read American Dirt here.
Don’t forget to pick up your copy of Barren to see how American Dirt’s insights into the cartel are incorporated.
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