Immigrant worlds

If ever there was a book that begs, demands and screams for film adaptation it is American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins

I am holding on for dear life, zooming atop the La Bestia, hurtling at mad speed towards El Dorado. The noise of the wheels against the tracks is deafening. Tension soars. I’m trying to stay alive, as are others. To not fall on to the tracks, to make sure everybody ducks before an approaching tunnel, look out for overpasses that can neatly slice off my head and to avoid all tree branches and shrubs that can leave me maimed if not dead. 

Then there’s a loud thud and I wake from the rollercoaster ride that is American Dirt. I realise