prompt #4 (week 7)


While reading Louis Menand's article in the New Yorker about literary hoaxes, I couldn't stop thinking about Jeanine Cummins' American Dirt. The uproar about this novel was one of the first literary controversies I experienced while working at a public library, and one I still remember when I see its spine on the shelves. Although Dirt is not a literary hoax, my initial understanding of the controversy surrounding Dirt did reflect Menand's discussion of the changing ethics of authorship. This line stood out to me as being particularly relevant to the Dirt discourse: "A person who is not defined by [their "race, gender, sexuality, ableness," or other various identities] cannot tell the world what it is like to be a person who is. If you were not born it, you should not perform it" (Menand, 2018). For many years, this belief was at the heart of what I thought the issue with Dirt was: that it was a novel about Mexican people written by someone who was not Mexican, nor had any personal connection to the themes or experiences portrayed in it.

The first thing I can recall about American Dirt was its rampant popularity; copies circulated so frequently it was rare to actually see one in person. The holds list was enormous, rivaled only by the long-reigning champ, Where the Crawdads Sing, which had a holds list upwards of 900 patrons for longer than anyone I worked with had ever experienced. I wish I could remember when the tides changed for Dirt, how long it took until the concerns and criticism outweighed the good press, but I don't. I only remember learning about the controversy (probably via Twitter) and seeing it distilled down to the fact that this harrowing story about a Mexican woman and her son joining a migrant caravan was written by a privileged, presumably white, American woman. Now, with the understanding gained in the several years that have since passed and the insight offered by writers like Richard Z. Santos, it is clear that this was a reductive summation of Dirt's issues, one that caused more distraction than lead to meaningful discussion. 

At the time, the concern about the book and its author dissuaded me from ever engaging with it, especially with critics calling out its reliance on harmful stereotypes and inaccuracies (although it admittedly wasn't a book I would have considered picking up for myself before). As the ire increased to the point that Cummins was cancelling tour dates and interviews, I can recall patrons mentioning Dirt when they'd come to the circulation desk. Some patrons fed off of the controversy, wanting to see for themselves what was so "bad" about the book. Others would tell me about how they'd read it and they couldn't figure out what the big deal was, or that they'd actually found it profoundly moving. I don't remember anyone sharing that they agreed with any element of the criticism. 

My library is in a predominantly white, affluent part of St. Louis County, so these kinds of comments (or lack thereof) weren't all that surprising to me, especially since I didn't even fully understand the problems with the novel myself. Now, having read Santos' article, it is even more clear why some patrons may have been undeterred by the criticism: the book was written, in essence, for a large part of my library's patronage. Cummins wrote this book, and the publishers subsequently promoted it, intending to "sway some mythical white person" "to recognize the injustices being done to Latinx people on the border and well beyond" (Santos, 2020). Dirt may have been written with "the whole intention...to try to upend the stereotypes that [Cummins] saw being very prevalent in our national dialogue," but ultimately relies on stereotypes to tell an exploitative story about a marginalized group of people for the benefit of white Americans (Staff Reports, 2020). Perhaps the patrons who made these remarks to me landed squarely in Cummins' intended audience. 

I don't recall any patrons ever asking my thoughts on the book at its peak notoriety, but I honestly probably wouldn't have offered them anyway even if they had, as it isn't a librarian's job to comment on the subject matter or quality of a patron's chosen reading material (no matter how hard it is to resist sometimes). It is, of course, also worth noting how many patrons I interacted with who may have taken issue with the novel and simply never said anything. I don't want to presume all patrons who read the book were taken with it, I just have to go off of the interactions and positive sentiments I do remember being shared. Ideally, I wish I could remember more of the specifics surrounding the time of the event cancelations -- Cummins had at least three events scheduled in the St. Louis area, all of which were cancelled either by the bookstore (as was the case with Left Bank Books) or by the publisher. I'd also be interested in seeing the data on how quickly the circulation fell at each branch and across the library system, if at all. Just for my own curiosity, I'll also probably reach out to my colleagues to gauge what, if anything, they remember about this wild moment in the literary world. 

Reflecting on this specific moment during my public library tenure with Santos' article as context has been illuminating. I don't remember as much as I thought I did; I mostly just remember the feelings I was left with once the controversy died down and people seemingly moved on. I remember those who scoffed at the ridiculousness of the notion that authors were "not allowed" to write books about subjects, identities, or experiences that they did not personally interact with or embody. I can even remember thinking to myself that it seemed outlandish to have this expectation of writers, although surely there were some situations where this kind of criticism is justified. As it turns out, the issue with Dirt wasn't really that simple at all, as situations like this rarely are. I wish I'd understood more then, if only to be able to discuss it with my colleagues, friends, or even patrons who genuinely wanted to engage about it. I would have liked to be able to cite Santos' (2020) succinct statement: "We want stories about ourselves that aren’t written for someone else. We want to be taken seriously by the major publishers and the media. We want stories about our experiences that aren’t the equivalent of tear-jerking after-school specials."

Moving forward, I intend to make an effort to be more knowledgeable about literary controversies like this, especially ones relevant to and popular with my patrons. American Dirt was one of the last wildly popular releases (not from an author like Patterson, Steel, Baldacci, etc.) of its kind that I can recall, but I imagine it won't be the last to shoot to fame and be immediately overshadowed by its problems. Plus, it'll be useful practice for keeping vigilant about other relevant issues at the intersection of literature, ethics, and the public. For example, concerns over local school districts challenging and banning books in school libraries are on the rise. Not long ago, a school district that serves a large portion of my branch's area challenged Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye. Unlike my experience with American Dirt, I found myself more affirmed by patrons than I anticipated, as requests for the book skyrocketed. A few patrons shared with me that they were reading it out of spite, while others were genuinely curious to understand what about the book was so threatening. As a future librarian, it feels crucial that I be knowledgeable about relevant ethical literary issues facing my patronage. While I'm sure I still won't have many appropriate opportunities to bring up additional context or understanding with patrons at the circulation desk, I'll feel better knowing I'm prepared. 


References

Menand, L. (2018, December 3). Literary hoaxes and the ethics of authorship. The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/12/10/literary-hoaxes-and-the-ethics-of-authorship

Santos, R. Z. (2020, February 5). The real problem with 'American Dirt'. Texas Monthly. https://www.texasmonthly.com/arts-entertainment/american-dirt-book-controversy/ 

Staff Reports. (2020, January 25). Left bank books cancels event with controversial 'American Dirt' author Jeanine Cummins. St. Louis Public Radio. 

Comments

  1. You make a good point about the importance of being aware of book controversies that library patrons come in contact with. As we learn and grow as a society some books can have more glaring issues than others. I guess it all depends on the lens we're viewing these controversies from. I do think there are legitimate issues with authors misrepresenting themselves and their experiences. Your story about American Dirt just reminded me of the whole white savior complex that has been pervasive throughout history.

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    1. You're absolutely right, nearly every element of the American Dirt controversy is connected to white saviorism. Cummins stated that she did several years of research to prep for writing this book, but didn't go far enough to actually understand that the book she set out to write with its aim to enlighten white people at the expense of an already underrepresented group would actually do more harm than good. What I found so interesting and strange was that even after all the backlash she received, when she talked with STL public radio she claimed to be "aware of her own privilege, her cultural blind spots and the imbalances in the publishing industry," but then goes on further to say that "'that's not a problem that I can fix, nor is it a problem that I'm responsible for.'" On one hand I can agree that she is obviously not on the hook for all the issues in the publishing industry, but she did clearly benefit from the current culture of the publishing industry so it feels particularly telling that she doesn't even really acknowledge her role in it. It just really rubbed me the wrong way and further emphasizes her lack of awareness that she contributed to the problem under the guise of being helpful/progressive.

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  2. I had heard of this title before but was unaware of the controversy surrounding the book and the author. You state that patrons never asked for your opinion on the book, but did any patrons more unfamiliar with the work ever ask you to explain why the book was controversial or ask where they could find more information online? I, too, wonder how the event cancellations and general controversy affected the number of checkouts. I am surprised, given the controversy, that this book did not end up on the American Library Association’s Banned Book list. Reading more about the controversy surrounding this book, I learned from a Vox article that, at one time, the author “identified as white” (Grady, 2020), acknowledging her “nonimmigrant and non-Mexican” (Grady, 2020) status. However, Cummins later extrapolated on her family’s background, writing in a piece for The New York Times that her “grandmother ( . . . ) was Puerto Rican, and [her cousins’] father is half Lebanese” (Cummins, 2016). Yet, Cummins states that “in every practical way, my family is mostly white” (Cummins, 2016). I wonder whether the public response would have differed had she worked in tandem with an immigrant from Mexico. This scenario is still problematic because the white author would still be telling the story of a person of color, but perhaps doing so would have lessened some of the controversies and increased the credibility and accuracy of the narrative. What are your thoughts?

    References:

    Cummins, J. (2016, January 3). Murder isn’t black or white. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/03/opinion/sunday/murder-isnt-black-or-white.html

    Grady, C. (2020, January 30). The controversy over the new immigration novel American Dirt, explained. Vox. https://www.vox.com/culture/2020/1/22/21075629/american-dirt-controversy-explained-jeanine-cummins-oprah-flatiron

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    1. This is really interesting research, Lexi, thank you so much for this additional context! And I don't recall any patrons asking me about the controversy, but I'm pretty sure conversations about it happened among my colleagues. I think a lot of your hypotheticals are compelling, too. I can't imagine that if Cummins had co-authored a story like this with a Mexican immigrant that it would have garnered the same concern and/or attention. In fact, it's hard to imagine she would have ended up writing the same story, since the inaccuracies and stereotypes likely would have been caught and/or reworked thanks to the expertise of the cowriter. Working in tandem with a cowriter on Dirt honestly could have been mutually beneficial. If she had a coauthor willing to lend their perspective and knowledge to her idea, it only would have strengthened the authenticity of the piece and garnered more acclaim (and the acclaim probably would have stuck). Additionally, Cummins was already a successful author; the advance she garnered for the book was incredibly high. She could have used her preexisting fame to bolster her Mexican cowriter's name, an actual act of allyship. All of this does make me wonder if Cummins or the publishers ever considered having sensitivity readers work on this novel. If so, I wonder if maybe that would have made a difference too?

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  3. Fantastic response! This book was so controversial when it came out. I remember feeling so guilty when I read it that I had to immediately read a book by a LatinX author so I could even it out. Great job walking us through your experience and what you learned. Full points. Keep up the great work!

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