I’m a published author and I wrote an essay here on Medium, expressing my discomfort with both the book, and the author’s and publisher’s questionable behavior / promotional tactics. Having read the novel, I stand by my essay.

You can enjoy a book and still recognize its flaws, particularly one that purports to illuminate the anguish of thousands of real people detained at our border for seeking a better life. This novel is a fictionalized account of a Mexican immigrant fleeing violence in her homeland; that’s fine, but as I point out in my essay, when a writer who doesn’t belong to the affected community takes on the burden of representing a very current and painful crisis, it’s incumbent to get it absolutely right. There can be no margin for errors — and this novel, unfortunately, contains a surfeit of them that are apparently only recognizable by those who know said community.

It may well be a stunning piece of fiction, propulsive and immersive, but as fiction is its premise, other writers who belong to the very group it purports to depict have every right to record their objections, particularly if they feel the fiction doesn’t reflect their reality. They know this subject intimately, so while some people can totally love reading the novel, it doesn’t exclude the validity of other people who have serious issues with it. The publication of such a novel in midst of our inflammatory political climate and ongoing lack of diversity in publishing — a very thorny issue — has poked the hornet’s nest. Both the author and the publisher should have taken this into account during the editorial process and afterwards, before posting pics on social media of barbed-wire manicures and dinner centerpieces.

I support my fellow writers. This author’s disproportionate success can be indeed be seen as something to celebrate, as so few writers ever achieve her level of hype, let alone her gargantuan advance. However, recognizing that singular achievement doesn’t preclude also recognizing how the system works. She’s white and therefore marketable, while another writer with darker skin and less media savoir faire is not. Publishing is rife with this type of exclusivity. Her past traumas, however, are not a reason to support whatever she writes.

As for “if you have nothing to say, don’t say anything,” excuse me, but it’s important to point out, with all due respect, that kind of patronizing statement has been leveraged throughout history to silence dissent. Sadly, nothing important in society ever changes without anger going before it. Slavery in the United States was only abolished by insurgency and a savage civil war. Women only won the right to vote by banding together and marching in the streets. Gay rights started because a group of pissed-off LGBQT+ people in a bar decided they’d had enough of being raided. Rage is often the only vehicle the oppressed can employ to initiate vital change. When we reply, “don’t speak if you have nothing nice to say” we effectively re-affirm our unwillingness to recognize our own defects and the parts we may play, willingly or otherwise, in perpetuating racism, prejudice, and intolerance. Ironically, it’s precisely when we feel the most uncomfortable that we really need to pause and listen.