I picked up American Street with high hopes, anticipating a compelling narrative about the immigrant experience and the clash of cultures. Novels exploring these themes often resonate deeply with me, and I was particularly eager to read an own voices story like this one. However, despite my initial enthusiasm, American Street unfortunately did not live up to my expectations, leading me to DNF (Did Not Finish) at the 50% mark.
The premise of American Street is undeniably captivating: Fabiola, our protagonist, journeys from Haiti to America with her mother, only to be separated upon arrival when her mother is detained by US Immigration. Fabiola finds herself on American Street in Detroit, living with her aunt and cousins, and the story follows her navigation of this new and challenging life.
One might expect the detention of Fabiola’s mother to be a central, emotionally resonant plot point. Surprisingly, Fabiola’s reaction seemed muted beyond the initial shock. While this wasn’t the primary reason for my disappointment, it did set a slightly underwhelming tone. The real issue, however, lay in the character development, or rather, the lack thereof.
Character Disconnects in American Street
The characters in American Street were, for the most part, difficult to connect with and often frustrating.
Fabiola, the central character, came across as remarkably immature, passive, and lacking a distinct personality. Her reactions and decisions often felt perplexing, making it hard to empathize with her situation.
Her cousins, Pri and Donna, were equally problematic. While they possessed the potential for complex and intriguing personalities, they ultimately fell flat, becoming largely unlikeable figures. It was even challenging to differentiate between them, highlighting a lack of individual depth.
Chantel stood out as the only character who didn’t elicit immediate dislike. This might be attributed to the book revealing very little about her, preventing any real opportunity to form a strong negative opinion. She seemed to embody stereotypical eldest child traits, but remained underdeveloped.
Then there was Kasim, the character clearly positioned as the love interest, and perhaps the most problematic of the lot. From his introduction, Kasim felt one-dimensional and frankly, off-putting. His initial interactions with Fabiola were marked by pushiness and a disregard for her discomfort. He resorts to catcalling when she walks away, demonstrating a lack of respect and boundaries.
“Damn, Shorty! That dress!”
This kind of interaction immediately sets a disturbing tone. Later, after a very brief acquaintance, he refers to her as his “bougie girl,” which Fabiola explicitly rejects with “no, no, no, no. I am not your girl”. Despite her clear disinterest, they inexplicably end up on a date soon after, creating a confusing and somewhat unsettling dynamic. To further compound the issue, Kasim employs the tired and cliché line, “You’re different from a lot of these other girls out here,” reinforcing a superficial and frankly, tiresome trope.
Problematic Romanticization of Abuse
Beyond the main romantic storyline, a secondary romantic relationship was portrayed in a way that I found deeply concerning. While I acknowledge that I only read the first half of the book, and the narrative might have evolved later, several reviews suggest that the problematic elements persist. This particular relationship appeared to romanticize abusive dynamics. A specific quote between Fabiola and one of the individuals in this relationship was particularly jarring:
“But you hurt her” “She hurts me, too. She breaks my fucking heart every day”
This dialogue attempts to justify physical abuse by equating it with emotional pain. This is a dangerous and unacceptable portrayal, suggesting that physical violence is a valid response to heartbreak. Toxic relationships should not be presented in a romanticized light, and this instance was a significant deterrent to my continued reading.
Undercurrents of Girl Hate and Excessive Profanity
Adding to the negative reading experience were subtle yet pervasive instances of “girl hate.” Examples such as “She just dresses like a ho” and “With her fake face and fake hair” permeated the narrative, contributing to an unpleasant and unnecessary negativity.
Finally, a more subjective point, but one worth mentioning: the excessive use of profanity felt gratuitous. While I am not averse to swearing in literature when it serves a purpose, in American Street, it felt overdone and frequent, to the point of becoming distracting and detracting from the overall reading experience. It reached a point where the constant cursing became more noticeable than the narrative itself.
In conclusion, while individual criticisms might seem minor, their cumulative effect significantly detracted from my enjoyment of American Street. The combination of underdeveloped and unlikeable characters, the troubling romanticization of abuse, the undercurrent of girl hate, and the excessive profanity led to a disappointing reading experience, ultimately resulting in my decision to DNF. Despite this negative experience with American Street, I remain open to exploring Ibi Zoboi’s work and am still interested in reading her novel, Pride, as its premise sounds genuinely intriguing.
