(Reviewed by JD Jung)
Ex-Marine Jack O’Mally is divorced and estranged from his adult daughter. He just can’t accept that she is married to a black musician and living in California. Jack is captain of his New Jersey neighborhood watch, which targets undocumented workers. Of course, they conveniently overlook the fact that neighbors rely on them for everyday comforts like childcare, gardening, and cleaning.
Jack’s worldview is reinforced at his gym, where a group of like-minded older men rail against immigrants and liberals. They also complain about the Hispanic cleaning staff who don’t speak in English. His only friend there who doesn’t hold those views is Robert, a liberal from California.
When financial trouble forces Jack to put his home on the market, Robert suggests that Jack hire Anna, the undocumented wife of a Salvadoran janitor, for cleaning. Jack reluctantly agrees, but Anna must bring her sixteen-year-old daughter, Sophia, to translate. Additionally, he learns that he must pick them up at their home, which is in an unfamiliar part of town.
What follows is an emotional and layered narrative that is both heart wrenching and heartwarming. Through Anna’s backstory, the reader learns of the danger and desperation of life in El Salvador and the perilous journey to the United States. Sofia’s reluctance to embrace American life adds another layer of tension, as she and Jack slowly chip away at each other’s assumptions and prejudices. What Sophia and Jack learn from each other greatly enhances both of their lives.
What also makes Great Again stand out is its realism, especially the dialogue and situations. I personally know groups of older men at the gym who trash liberals daily and praise Trump, no matter what he does. What I particularly like about this story is that nothing is sugar-coated. The resolutions are not easy and the process to understand each other is messy.
This is an engaging read that doesn’t shy away from hard truths. Though it’s beyond the scope of the book, I hope that it leaves the reader reflecting on a vital question: Do we only advocate for the immigrants we personally benefit from, or do we stand up for all who share their struggle?