Review of After the Last Border by Jessica Goudeau

Jessica Goudeau, a journalist and activist with a PhD in literature from the University of Texas, has spent over a decade working with refugees in Austin, Texas, co-founding Hill Tribers, a nonprofit supporting Burmese refugee artisans. Her debut book, After the Last Border: Two Families and the Story of Refuge in America (2020), a New York Times Editors’ Choice and winner of the J. Anthony Lukas Book Prize, has been lauded by outlets like The New York Times and San Francisco Chronicle for its empathetic storytelling. The book intertwines the personal narratives of two refugee women—Mu Naw from Myanmar and Hasna from Syria—with a historical overview of U.S. refugee policy, drawing from Goudeau’s extensive interviews and research.

The book’s thesis argues that U.S. refugee policy, shaped by shifting public attitudes, profoundly impacts individual lives,

often with devastating consequences, yet resilience and community offer paths to survival. It’s a wake-up call, exposing the ground reality of displacement and the human cost of political decisions. This book is essential reading because it humanizes a global crisis, urging readers to confront systemic failures while celebrating the strength of those playing catch-up in a new land. Its blend of narrative and history makes it vital for understanding migration’s complexities, especially in a world grappling with ethical governance.

After the Last Border opens with a vivid scene at Austin-Bergstrom International Airport in 2007, where Mu Naw, a Karen refugee from Myanmar, arrives: “Mu Naw stood on the landing above the airport baggage claim-area and wished she had on different shoes” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 43). The book alternates between the stories of Mu Naw, a Christian who spent decades in a Thai refugee camp, and Hasna, a Muslim Syrian fleeing civil war, with chapters on U.S. refugee policy from World War II to the Trump era. “The welcoming and acceptance of immigrants and refugees have been central to America’s identity for centuries” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 2) sets the historical frame, contrasted by periodic rejection: “America has periodically turned its back in times of the greatest humanitarian need” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 2).

The central argument is that U.S. policy, driven by public sentiment, shapes refugees’ lives unpredictably. “Americans’ national fight for identity is the single greatest determiner of who we accept for resettlement” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 17) encapsulates this. Mu Naw, arriving when America was open to displaced families, faces cultural isolation: “The overwhelming cacophony of English combined with social isolation and financial hardship nearly tear them apart” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 45). She learns English, finds work, and becomes a community leader, reflecting resilience: “Mu Naw was young and determined” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 45). Hasna’s story, however, is marked by tragedy. Fleeing Syria for Jordan, she resettles in Austin in 2016, only to be separated from her children by Trump’s 2017 Muslim ban: “Hasna was cruelly separated from her children by a sudden ban on refugees from Muslim countries” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 5).

Evidence comes from Goudeau’s interviews and historical analysis. Mu Naw’s journey, from “a persecuted minority in Myanmar” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 100) to a homeowner, shows adaptation, supported by community: “They formed close ties with other refugees” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 46). Hasna’s struggle, working as a hotel cleaner while her husband Jebreel, disabled by a missile, languishes, is heart-wrenching: “Hasna now works as a hotel cleaner” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 47). Historical chapters detail policy shifts, from post-World War II openness to Trump’s restrictions: “The evolution of modern refugee resettlement in the United States, beginning with World War II and ending with current closed-door policies” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 5). The 2017 ban left “thousands of refugees getting lost in the shuffle of our political landscape” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 269).

Solutions lie in empathy and policy reform. Goudeau highlights volunteers’ roles: “The volunteers who helped them were ordinary people doing extraordinary things” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 268). She advocates for inclusive policies: “A humane and vital service should once again become central to every presidential administration’s foreign-policy stance” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 170). The book emphasizes community strength, as seen in Mu Naw’s leadership: “She became a resilient leader” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 46). Hasna’s hope for reunification, though unfulfilled, reflects resilience: “Hasna’s story is less triumphant” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 47). The narrative concludes with a call to action: “We can’t sit idle and do nothing. That isn’t humane” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 216).

The book’s strengths are its empathetic storytelling and rigorous research. Goudeau’s decade-long work with refugees lends authenticity, as seen in “It feels like the culmination of a decade of work and friendship with refugees who trusted Goudeau enough to tell the stories” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 269). The narrative’s structure, alternating personal stories with history, is seamless, echoing works like The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. “The chapters alternate between their stories and chapters on the history of refugee policy & sentiment in the US” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 268) ensures accessibility. Her prose, described as “spectacular writing turns the struggles of each family into saga” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 269), balances emotion and fact, making the crisis palpable.

The use of primary sources—interviews, policy documents, and Goudeau’s observations—strengthens credibility. “Based on two years of interviews and longer friendships” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 203) reflects deep journalism. The historical sections provide context, showing how “public perception on immigrants and refugees has morphed so drastically in recent years” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 204). Mu Naw’s triumph and Hasna’s tragedy humanize statistics, avoiding the faceless mass critique: “She not only puts names and stories to the refugees that we so often lump together” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 203).

Weaknesses include a limited intersectional lens. While race and religion are central, gender and class dynamics are underexplored, unlike Evicted by Matthew Desmond. Hasna’s domestic role, for instance, lacks deeper analysis: “Hasna seldom appears directly in the narrative” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 301). The historical chapters, while informative, can feel dense: “I personally didn’t enjoy the historical or more factual chapters as much” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 216). The focus on Austin limits geographic scope, potentially missing broader U.S. contexts. Some readers may find the emotional weight overwhelming, requiring pauses to process, as noted: “It took time to absorb the level of detail” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 268).

The verdict is strongly positive. After the Last Border is a compelling, empathetic exposé, recommended for readers of narrative nonfiction and social justice literature. Its minor flaws don’t diminish its impact as a vital call to action.

Why Indian Youth Readers Must Read This Book

For Indian youth, navigating the grind of rote learning and societal expectations, After the Last Border resonates deeply. The education system’s relentless focus on exams like JEE mirrors the refugees’ struggle to conform to hostile systems: “The overwhelming cacophony of English combined with social isolation” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 45) echoes students’ pressure to master rigid syllabi. The book is a wake-up call, exposing the ground reality of systemic barriers, urging youth to question conformity over individuality.

The job market’s fierce competition parallels the refugees’ precarious existence. Like Hasna, facing “a sudden ban on refugees from Muslim countries” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 5), youth are often blamed for systemic issues like unemployment. Societal norms—marrying within caste or pursuing “respectable” careers—echo the policy’s rigidity. The book’s emphasis on community, “They formed close ties with other refugees” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 46), inspires youth to find strength in peer groups or activism, challenging the pressure to keep playing catch-up. Goudeau’s call for action, “We can’t sit idle and do nothing” (Goudeau, 2020, p. 216), resonates with India’s youth, who face similar calls to address social inequities, from caste discrimination to migrant worker crises. This book is a rallying cry for empathy and reform.

After the Last Border is a poignant blend of personal stories and historical critique, exposing the human cost of U.S. refugee policy. Goudeau’s empathetic prose and rigorous research make it a powerful call to action. For Indian youth, it’s a lens on resisting systemic pressures and embracing compassion. This book demands to be read, urging a more humane world.