Indeed, this long short story (my own best try at a definition of novella for now) builds on a winning and urgently topical premise, one perhaps familiar but here done to particular effect in its unshy embrace of detail, violence and, again, a kind of fatalistic hard-knocks loser narrative, if with empathy. By which I mean affect. There's a surprising and brave embrace here of blunt naturalism, the quotidian, of the mean side of the streets. The dark if gorgeous cover illustration of the gruesome US-Mexico border at night helpfully mediates the nonfiction vs. fiction elements of Weintraub's novella, the story of Rose/Rosa Quintero, an all-American Tucson college student with hyperbolic if completely true ambitions, the kind any slightly too-innocent young person might possess until, yes, her participation in a political demonstration inadvertently, indirectly and forever changes her status. Yes, her immigration status but also her existential state, our anti-heroine now stateless if now by default Mexican and not Mexican-American or "American" after having lived with the lie of her parents' totally familiar life journey as undocumented. The dream becomes a nightmare, and fast. Yes, like the famous and heroic "Dreamers," not to mention thousands of others who didn't make it to college, our Rose is subject to the immediate, brutal and impossibly Kafkaesque protocols administered to the deported and the dispossessed, often kids or young adults caught in the folds of the fabric of family history. In just the first few days and weeks of her incarceration ("detention") and ultimate release in Nogales, she encounters death, experiences a beating by ICE officers, witnesses sexual violence and a shooting, meets a coyote and rubs up against the narco cartels.