The Line Becomes a River is the literary debut of Francisco Cantu, who is just slightly younger than me and has adequately proven to be undeserving of my chagrin. Because isn't that what we do to younger writers? We are skeptical of them, and we pick apart their work more readily, anxious to find evidence of their fraudulent display of talent. I'd like to do that here, but I can't. The book is simply too good. (It may stand in sharp contrast to Conversations with Friends, but I am only halfway through it at present).
This was the 3rd selection of the Voracious Violets book club, and my favorite so far. It was my favorite because: (a) it was the shortest; (b) it was the most relevant; and (c) it was the most emotionally resonant and had the most original literary style. Ok, the style is not exactly super-original because it is basically Ernest Hemingway in 2019. In any case, I think we can all agree that we need Ernest Hemingway in 2019. Now I highly doubt that Cantu will go down in history like Hemingway but I have not read anything by any other modern writers that have reminded me as much of him. However, this may be because he is simply ripping Hemingway off, which, when you have sacrificed as much of yourself as Cantu has, is more forgivable than not.
The plot? This is a memoir. Cantu's mother is a Park Ranger. His father is MIA. He studied international relations in college and he is obsessed with the Border and so he applied to be a border patrol agent, sometime around the Great Recession. He does that for a few years, then transfers into more of an office job in Arizona, then takes up a research opportunity and grad school, as the book hits its closing arc.
Really, the book is perfectly laid out as a 3 act drama, and it could be made into a rather compelling film (though obviously this is unnecessary as any film would likely sentimentalize it further): border patrol wars, border patrol intelligence, and border patrol humanity. Of these three parts, the second is both the least compelling and the most articulate. This book barely has any weaknesses and is therefore the latest entry in the Best Books list (after Sabrina).
Perhaps this is a political decision, to consider it one of the Best Books, but it stands on its own merits (while not the literary equivalent of A Farewell to Arms, it is more than its equal as to political themes). Perhaps this book is "very prescient." Because nobody really seemed to talk about the Border very much until it became known as the concept of the Wall. And what does it actually look like? (Or what did it look like back in the late 2000's?):
"In keeping with the trend toward consolidating a well-demarcated and enforceable line, the convention agreements stipulated 'that the distance between two consecutive monuments shall never exceed 8,000 meters, and that this limit may be reduced on those parts of the lines which are inhabited or capable of habitation.' In the course of their ensuing work, the commission found that most of the original markers were 'but rude piles of stone...while the intervals between them were found to be in some cases as great as 20 or 30 miles...and in one instance 101 miles.' Some monuments had disappeared altogether, spirited away by wind and water or swallowed by the landscape, as if they had never existed at all." (48-49)
Interspersed through the personal narrative are allusions to sociocultural and literary texts, as well as historical vignettes such as this, which lend the work a vaguely academic air. It situates his personal experience into a greater context. These passages are often more beautiful than those describing the daily realities of life in that environment, yet each conveys a facility with spare and crucial detail. For every pseudo-intellectual aside, there are just as many casual depictions of chaos and violence and heartbreak:
"Near the end of my shift, Mortenson called me into the processing room and asked me to translate for two girls who had just been brought in, nine- and ten-year-old sisters who were picked up with two women at the checkpoint. He told me to ask them basic questions: Where is your mother? In California. Who are the women who brought you here? Friends. Where are you from? Sinaloa. The girls peppered me with nervous questions in return: When could they go home? Where were the women who drove them? Could they call their mother? I tried to explain things to them, but they were too young, too bewildered, too distraught at being surrounded by men in uniform. One of the agents brought the girls a bag of Skittles, but even then they couldn't smile, they couldn't say thank you, they just stood there, looking at the candy with horror.
Once the agents placed the girls in a holding cell, I told Mortenson I had to leave. My shift's over, I said. He told me they still needed to interview the women who were picked up with the girls and asked me to stay and translate. I can't help anymore, I told him, I've got to go home. As I drove away from the station I tried not to think of the girls, and my hands began to shake at the wheel. I wanted to call my mother, but it was too late." (51-52)
Why is this book important? It's the sort of book you could lend to people that chant, "Build the wall!," except they probably wouldn't read it. They wouldn't be interested in nuance. I would like to imagine a world where two people with diametrically opposed political viewpoints are able to read and discuss it and actually have a productive conversation where each side learns something. Cantu anticipates many of these arguments and addresses most of the issues surrounding the immigration debate. Yet it will likely preach to the choir, as books are wont to do.
We can hope, however, that one day a comprehensive and progressive border policy will be enacted, one that prevents unnecessary deaths and injuries and offers an incentive to utilize the appropriate procedures and channels to emigrate legally. Still, even though this is likely to remain one of those dilemmas with no one-size-fits-all solution, books such as this can help to shape the conversation to determine the best possible course of action.
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