What the New York Times gets wrong about the "American Dirt" controversy

On January 26, The New York Times published a column by Pamela Paul that commemorated the three-year anniversary of the publication and controversy surrounding "American Dirt," a novel penned by Jeanine Cummins. Although Paul suggests that, three years after the scandal, the controversy surrounding "American Dirt" casts a long shadow on the publishing business, as scholars of Latinx literature and culture, we question how there can be a chilling effect when the landscape for Latinx authors historically, and now, is practically ice cold. Who gets to wield the power of representation might be an important topic for Paul and others, but it distracts us from a problem that truly deserves a spotlight, especially now in the era of book bans and other censorship: the harmful and persistent under-representation of Latinx and other people of color in the publishing business. 

The mainstream publishing world continues to sideline contributions by Latinx authors. A 2020 article in The New York Times found that only 11 percent of all books published in 2018 were authored by people of color. Bolstering these findings, only about 10 percent of the 2020 New York Times Bestseller List were written by people of color — a figure that looks even worse when one considers that many of the books published by people of color are by athletes or celebrities and that these figures aggregate all people of color. The lack of Latinx representation occurs at all levels of publishing, including books for young readers, as a recent NPR story noted. 

"American Dirt" was met with near-universal condemnation from Latinx authors, journalists, and scholars — and we are among the people who found the novel to trade in offensive stereotypes and untruths. But we also find that the so-called Big 5 publishing houses have a disturbing history of publishing books that perpetuate troubling stereotypes about Latinxs and other people of color — a point that came to a head in relation to "American Dirt," but which also surrounded the publication of Kathryn Stockett's "The Help," Ben Winters' "Underground Airlines" and other books penned by white authors who wish to portray the experiences of people of color, some of whom have even impersonated Latinxs by writing under pseudonyms. 

Despite a relative boom in Latinx authors publishing, including Pulitzer Prize Winner Junot Díaz and widely acclaimed authors like Angie Cruz, Manuel Muñoz, Helena María Viramontes and Sylvia Moreno-Garcia, Latinxs continue to publish at exponentially lower rates than their white counterparts. Part of the reason why Latinxs continue to lag behind white authors owes to the overwhelming whiteness of the publishing industry itself. According to a 2019 Baseline Diversity Survey conducted by The Open Book Blog, only about 6 percent of people working in the publishing business identify as Latinx — a number that falls to only 2 percent at the editorial level. It is a well-documented sociological fact that decision-makers in institutions of all kinds tend to favor people who look, sound, and reflect their ideas and interests. These are deep historical trends that date at least to the mid-20th century. 

We don't endorse the idea that an author should be barred from representing people outside of their experiences. James Baldwin famously wrote beautiful and thoughtful novels about people from multiple ethnic and racial backgrounds, for example, and Henry James was renowned for his portrayal of female characters. 

But the utter lack of diversity in the publishing industry and the lack of authors of color who even have access to it are larger issues than cultural appropriation or moral authority. In fact, given the subsequent accusations that Cummins "cribbed" portions of "American Dirt" from books penned by the celebrated author Luís Alberto Urrea and the award-winning journalist Sonia Nazario, it appears that the publisher —Flatiron Books — not only promoted a white author over authors of color, but also failed in its intellectual responsibilities. The trends we outline make it clear that Flatiron's failure is part of a broader and disturbing history among the Big 5. 

We advocate that the Big 5 devote more energy to constructive actions that will make the publishing industry more equitable, like the recommendations made by the ALANAA theatremakers. Among the most meaningful reforms that could take place would be committing to hiring people of color in decision-making positions and as ancillary workers who often serve as gatekeepers, such as agents and literary reviewers. Finally, we advocate that the Big 5 foster the success of younger writers of color by supporting (both financially and intellectually) some of the institutional structures that feed the industry like writers retreats and workshops or MFA programs in universities.  

In the meantime, we can all engage in a concerted effort to read beyond "American Dirt" and the Big 5 — for example, reading Myriam Gurba and books by the small presses who are already doing this kind of work, like Arte Público. If we must commemorate the anniversary of the "American Dirt" debacle, then let us do so by considering the authors who are actually in the shadows, whose voices and stories are largely excluded from the publishing world. Such exclusion cheats us all, robbing us of the light needed to view the complexity and nuance of what it means to live in this world.