‘I’m Nobody or I’m a Nation’

Is there something particular about the history or culture of the Dominican Republic that makes you say that?
I could make tons of arguments. All of us, to misquote Whitman, we all contain multitudes. I think more specifically, we all contain universes. It doesn't matter who you are. You could be some guy who writes code in Mumbai for a major corporation or you could be a truck driver in Cincinnati. But in the end, none of that means that the whole universe isn't contained inside you.

But more specifically, the Caribbean generally and the island of Hispaniola specifically is the linchpin, the pivot point where the old world swung into the new world. If you want the transformation point, if you want the ground zero where the Old World died and the New World began, it's there. I mean, nothing is more quintessentially American—in the entire span of that description—than the Caribbean and more specifically the Dominican Republic. If you want to be incredibly grandiose, the entire world, we're all the children of what happened in the Caribbean, whether we know it or not. I mean, the extermination of indigenous people, the conquest of the New World, slavery and in some ways the rise of this form of capitalism that we all live under. I mean really the modern world was given rise by what began in the Caribbean.

The book begins with a Derek Walcott poem that ends with the line "… either I'm nobody or I'm a nation." Why did you choose that?
The concept of a "nation" is definitely problematized in a place like the Caribbean. This myth that nations exist, they have to work overtime in the Caribbean, where you have so many elements, so many mixtures, so much hybridity. But I think more importantly, a nation that erases individuals is no nation. And an individual who believes they're completely disconnected from everyone else is equally absurd. In my mind, I thought that Walcott hit it all. I found it very poignant. I just thought, God, it's true.

Immigration is a hot political topic right now. You immigrated to the United States with your family when you were just 6 years old. Do you have any thoughts on the issue?
I thought it was interesting that when I won the National Book Critics Circle Award, they described my novel's main character as a Dominican immigrant, which is just astounding. Oscar was no immigrant; he was born and raised in the United States. I just think in general it's funny how you'll get ascribed immigration status. Whether I'm an immigrant or not, people are going to assume I'm an immigrant anyway. It's the same with poor Oscar. I just think look, c'mon, I'm no expert in it. I'm hoping that white writers are being asked about immigration questions, too. Even though myself, I'm an immigrant, I'm only part of the problem. White writers should be asked about immigration as much as Latino writers. Because they're part of the same problem. I don't understand why I'm the one always being asked at the passport door to step aside. I see everyone else smuggling [stuff] in, but they're always saying, "you."

With that caveat aside, we're in the fifth year of the most expensive war in human history. We're devouring an entire generation of our young people, both directly in the war or with the long-term consequences, and yet the country wants to get obsessed with immigration. Like this is the exact right time to have this conversation? I wonder if we're not trying to distract ourselves. You know, I love that image from "Moby Dick," because we're like the ship. We're the Pequod. We're this nation on this ship, and we're on this insane quest being directed by a madman. But what's really interesting is that Captain Ahab wasn't taking his foreign workers and making them walk the plank. He understood the value of diversity through his dream. We're even crazier than Ahab. We're chasing this white whale called terrorism, but our captain is saying, "You know what, I don't think some of us really belong here. They should walk the plank." I never thought there would be a day where the United States would be crazier than its metaphor, the Pequod. But we're there. We're there. Ahab is now a moderate.

© 2008