Arturo Rivera
I was born in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, México. I lived there all my life until I came here. Other people from our town had gone north. Most of them left because they wanted a better life. That’s what they said. A better life. But it wasn’t like that for us. We had a good life, a beautiful life. We lived in a house that I built. We married in the town square when Alma and I were young, when people told us we didn’t know anything yet about the world. But we knew. Because the world to us was each other. And then we had Maribel. And our world grew larger.
We came here for her.
I think about God sometimes, whether He’s watching us. Was this what He wanted? Was it all for some greater reason that I don’t understand? Were we supposed to come here, to the United States? Is there something better waiting for us here that God in His infinite vision can see? Is there something ahead of us that will help all of this make sense finally? I don’t know. I don’t know the answers.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful. We are happy here in many ways. We’ve met good people. We haven’t been here long, but the people in the building where we live have become like a family to us. The teachers at Maribel’s school have helped her tremendously. She’s getting better, they say. And Alma and I can tell. Maribel has a light in her eyes now. We see that, and nothing—not a single thing—brings us more joy.
Maybe it’s the instinct of every immigrant, born of necessity or of longing: Someplace else will be better than here. And the condition: if only I can get to that place.
It took us a long time to be able to come. We applied and waited to be approved. We traveled for days. We left a lot of things behind—not only physical objects, but our friends and of course our families, pieces of ourselves—all for the chance to see that light in Maribel’s eyes. It’s been difficult, yes, but I would do it all again. People do what they have to in this life. We try to get from one end of it to the other with dignity and with honor. We do the best we can.
I’m overcome when I think about this place and about what it’s given us. Maribel is getting stronger. I can see it. Every day a little bit more. A safe area to live. Such good friends. It’s incredible. One day when we go back to México and people ask me what it was like here, I will tell them those things. I will tell them all the ways I loved this country.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With deep gratitude to the entire team at Knopf, but especially to Robin Desser, who is the editor of my dreams and who has not only made this a better book, but who has made me a better, wiser, more thoughtful writer; to my agent, the inimitable Julie Barer, or as I sometimes refer to her: “My favorite person in the world”; to everyone who read at various stages along the way—Kate Sullivan, Diana Spechler, Tita Ramírez, and Jennifer Kurdyla; to my mom, for too many things to name, not least of which is sharing the story that helped set this book in motion; to my dad, not only for inspiring me to write this book, but for inspiring me, period; and to my husband and children, who are, in the truest definition of the word that I can think of, my home.
A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cristina Henríquez is the author of the story collection Come Together, Fall Apart, which was a New York Times Editors’ Choice selection, and the novel The World in Half. Her work has appeared in The New Yorker, The Atlantic, The American Scholar, Glimmer Train, Virginia Quarterly Review, Ploughshares, TriQuarterly, AGNI, and Oxford American, as well as in various anthologies. She lives in Illinois.
The Book of Unknown Americans
by Cristina Henríquez
About This Guide
The questions, discussion topics, and other material that follow are intended to enhance your group’s conversation about Cristina Henríquez’s The Book of Unknown Americans, a powerfully honest, unforgettable story of two families, brought together by love and tragedy, each struggling to find their place in a new country.