I don’t think this is a book that can, nowadays, leave a lasting
impression on its readers. That said, it did move me when I read it, probably
because the main character is a struggling Italian American, and I think it
would be great if people in my (former?) country remembered that, once upon a
time, we were a nation of migrants.
The main character’s love is destructive and hopeless, the Depression
(with a capital D) too big a hurdle for him, and the fact that he essentially
lives on oranges is one of the saddest and at the same time more powerful
depictions of poverty in American literature, for me at least.
I wish at some point there was something to smile about in this novel. I
have the feeling that the greatest books, or movies, always have funny (or at
least ironic) passages, no matter how desperately grim the plot is – and to me
that makes them great works. Ask the Dust,
unfortunately, doesn’t have any such moment.
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