Isolation vs. Community Theme Analysis

Henriquez’s characters are all struggling with loneliness and isolation that are, in many cases, born out of a profound sense of dislodgement and statelessness. The Riveras—the newest arrivals to the bustling apartment complex which houses the “unknown Americans” of Henríquez’s novel—are the most affected by this, especially at the beginning of the novel. As the Riveras begin to make sense of their new lives in Delaware, though, they become a part of the community of immigrants and begin to develop camaraderie, confidence, and a feeling of home. Though what they’ve left behind is never far from the Riveras’ minds, the burden of being stateless is lifted slightly by the comforts of community, and while isolation is an integral part of the immigrant experience, Henríquez argues, that isolation is not its defining quality—community is.

Isolation comes in many form in The Book of Unknown Americans—emotional isolation, cultural isolation, and physical isolation are all things that the characters must reckon with. While each character who narrates a chapter from their own point of view describes their struggles with all three, the Riveras—specifically Maribel and Alma—best represent the effects of these different kinds of isolation, as they’re the central characters and the newest to the United States. Alma Rivera, the novel’s protagonist, is isolated in the ways that many of her fellow immigrants are—she is unable to speak English, she longs for home, and she initially lacks the confidence to integrate herself into her community or to seek out company, help, or fun. Alma is isolated further, though, due to her grief and guilt over having been “responsible” for Maribel’s accident back in México. Alma chooses to bear this guilt alone, never discussing it with Arturo or with anyone. When she finally confesses her fears to him, Arturo soothes her, absolving her of her quilt and urging her to forgive herself and stop isolating herself. Alma is even further isolated by the knowledge that Garrett Miller has been harassing Maribel—rather than choosing to tell Arturo and worry him, she keeps the knowledge to herself and bears the burden of her anxiety over Maribel’s safety alone.

Maribel is the most representative of physical isolation—though she is isolated culturally and emotionally like her parents, her physical limitations and her inability to express herself make her into an even more isolated figure than her parents. Throughout the novel, Maribel struggles against her own mind and body to make her voice heard. Perhaps in order to highlight her unique experience of isolation, Henríquez does not give Maribel a point-of-view chapter of her own—she is the only major character who does not receive a chance to speak.

Henríquez makes clear that isolation is a fundamental part of the immigrant experience, but the novel frames immigrant communities as the saving grace of such isolation. The apartment building where the Riveras make their home at first seems as if it will isolate them even further—their apartment is dingy and small, and they feel farther away from the comforts of home than they thought possible. However, the apartment quickly becomes an emblem of community, since it’s a bustling building in which pretty much every tenant comes from somewhere else. The Riveras find comfort, solace, and happiness in their neighbors’ homes, lives, and stories. At a local place which offers immigrant services, aptly called the Community House, Alma takes free English lessons and experiences her first feelings of agency and capability in her new home. Finally, after Arturo’s death, Celia Toro takes up a collection to raise funds to help Alma transport her husband’s body back to México. Nearly everyone in the community pitches in, from the teachers at Maribel’s school to the translator from the school district’s office. Alma is overwhelmed by the generosity and kindness her community has shown her in her time of need. Though she and Maribel are retreating from their new home and community, their community is still there for them—they are isolated by their pain, to be sure, but they are far from alone even in their darkest moment.

In a narrative committed to demonstrating the pains and difficulties of immigrant life—the poverty, loneliness, isolation, and sense of statelessness or rootlessness that most immigrants must reckon with as they build a new life in a foreign country—it would be easy for Henríquez to make those difficulties the defining characteristic of the immigrant experience. By choosing to tilt her novel toward the light, though, and demonstrate the ways in which community, joy, solidarity, and perseverance are much more representative not just of the immigrant experience, but also the immigrant spirit, Henríquez makes a bold and beautiful argument for the power of resiliency, determination, and togetherness.