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Digging to America

By Anne Tyler. Knopf, 2006. 277 pp.
Reviewed by Alison Andrews
June 26, 2006

No contemporary author writes about families better than Anne Tyler. She doesn’t even resort to describing bizarre instances of the “dysfunctional” family, because the families she writes about are both functional and flawed, both happy and unhappy. She is a chronicler of connections. Digging to America, Tyler’s seventeenth novel, explores what it means to be (or to become) American—and to be a member of an American family.

The novel begins with the chance encounter of two families who otherwise would never have met. Both are adopting baby girls from Korea. Bitsy and Brad Donaldson wait at the airport with “flotillas of silvery balloons,” multiple video cameras, a frilly bassinet, buttons that read “MOM” and “DAD” and two sets of “GRANDMA” and “GRANDPA.” Lingering on the fringes of the Donaldson crowd is another expectant couple, Sami and Ziba Yazdan, “foreign-looking, olive-skinned, and attractive.” They are accompanied by only one grandmother, Sami’s elegant, reserved mother, Maryam, who emigrated from Iran during the regime of the Shah.

When Bitsy meets the Yazdans, she impulsively invites them to supper and, a year later, to an “Arrival Party” which becomes an annual event recounted in each chapter, with the point of view passing from character to character. Each Arrival Party reflects the changes that have occurred since the last gathering, but some things remain the same, including the video of the arrival and a raucous version of “She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain,” despite Bitsy’s efforts to change the song every year.

From the beginning, the politically correct Donaldsons embrace ethnicity to the extreme, retaining their daughter’s Korean name, Jin-Ho, dressing her in Korean clothes, and giving her soy milk because “soy is more culturally appropriate.” The Yazdans, on the other hand, have fewer issues with assimilating; they change Sooki’s name to Susan and dress her in blue jeans. Still, like many first-time moms, Ziba is intimidated by Bitsy’s competitive pronouncements. “You notice I’m wearing black and white,” Bitsy says. “That’s because babies don’t see colors, only black and white. I’ve worn nothing but black and white from the day that Jin-Ho arrived....You might want to do that.” In moments like this, Tyler’s subtle wit finds a rich vein of comedy tempered with compassion for her characters’ foibles. As time goes by, even the pushy Bitsy earns our sympathy by her artless attempts to connect even while she is grieving.

Maryam finds the Donaldsons’ aggressive enthusiasm for all things foreign exasperating, however. When she learns that her daughter-in-law plans to serve a huge Iranian meal at the next party, she thinks, “Why should they have to put on these ethnic demonstrations? Let the Donaldsons go to the Smithsonian for that!” She has carved out a life for herself after the death of her husband, whom she married by proxy in what appeared to be an arranged marriage but turned out to be a love match. “That part, not even the most powerful aunts on earth could have arranged,” thinks Maryam. She is not looking for love again, but when Bitsy’s widowed father, Dave, begins to court her, she gradually allows him into her life. The conflict at the heart of the novel is Maryam’s resistance to assimilation, both culturally and romantically. She doesn’t want to be absorbed into another person’s life; she works hard at remaining separate, even though she admits to herself, “It’s a lot of work, being foreign.”

Tyler’s previous novels are narrow in range: they are set in Baltimore, among large, eccentric families. What’s new in Digging to America is the skillful way she portrays the Iranian expatriates and the ways that they create their identities as Americans. Along the way, the mysterious process occurs that only an excellent novelist can create: by attention to specific detail, she manages to achieve universality. Maryam has to realize that the otherness she feels is part of being human, that “we all think the others belong more.” With another novelist, this story might have ended with a bleak reflection on the futility of relationships, but Tyler doesn’t take that route. Her approach is much closer to what Robert Frost once said: “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life. It goes on.” For Tyler, relationships with the people we care about are never truly over, either—the ways in which we connect evolve over time, but those ties are an inescapable part of life. And in an Anne Tyler novel, suffused with generosity of spirit, who could ask for anything more?

© 2006, Alison Andrews

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Alison Andrews lives near Ft. Worth, Texas with her husband, three-year-old daughter, and newborn son. She typed most of this review one-handed.