C. J. Daley
Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the audio of this one. The trio that is Eric Lockley, Kristolyn Lloyd, and Zeno Robinson did a really well balanced narration—each taking on a sibling and giving them life.
This novel is a lot of things. It’s a critique on race relations and police involvement, in kind of an à la Jordan Peele-style. It mixes hyper-violence and realism with humor, in a way that I’ve found makes it more palatable for a lot of people that wouldn’t listen/read/watch these types of things otherwise. It’s also a family saga. Dysfunctional as all hell, each jaded in their own way, and each nursing scars they’re too hurt to discuss…even if they claim they have. Calla is broke, forced to take in her younger brother Jamie—who her other brother, Dre, most definitely said he’d help way more than he is with. And most of all she’s tired. Jamie, an aspiring musician, can’t get out of his way enough to realize that he’s way less street than he realizes. And Dre is stuck somewhere in between—too annoyed by Calla to be of much help, and too ‘straight and narrow’ to reach Jamie. And then there’s the nightmares.
On top of tackling all the real world horrors, the author has also blended in nightmarish horrors kind of à la Stranger Things and Love Craft Country (I’m primarily recalling the twin girls scene, but also the idea of shedding skins works well here). Except these strange things are rather more R rated, come from within, and only want to murder the three of them. I struggled with the build up to the climax, wondering if it was about to fumble the twist, and luckily, the author really pulled it off. The explanation of the Calla’s really worked for me, and that unique spin on sacrificing yourself for your siblings, that breaking yourself down into smaller and smaller pieces—or versions of yourself—even when you have nothing more to give, was really powerful.
This book also tackles anger. Being angry with the world, with the hand you’ve been dealt, with not being loved and wanted, with your family, and even with yourself. Jamie can’t get over the way life has treated him. He’s angry, and he’s even angrier that as a black teen, the world isn’t build to accept his anger. It’s raw, it’s real, and I found this novel to be a really strong way to talk about the subject. There’s things to learn here below the surface, and it also works as a functional horror if that’s not your thing.
Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the audio of this one. The trio that is Eric Lockley, Kristolyn Lloyd, and Zeno Robinson did a really well balanced narration—each taking on a sibling and giving them life.
This novel is a lot of things. It’s a critique on race relations and police involvement, in kind of an à la Jordan Peele-style. It mixes hyper-violence and realism with humor, in a way that I’ve found makes it more palatable for a lot of people that wouldn’t listen/read/watch these types of things otherwise. It’s also a family saga. Dysfunctional as all hell, each jaded in their own way, and each nursing scars they’re too hurt to discuss…even if they claim they have. Calla is broke, forced to take in her younger brother Jamie—who her other brother, Dre, most definitely said he’d help way more than he is with. And most of all she’s tired. Jamie, an aspiring musician, can’t get out of his way enough to realize that he’s way less street than he realizes. And Dre is stuck somewhere in between—too annoyed by Calla to be of much help, and too ‘straight and narrow’ to reach Jamie. And then there’s the nightmares.
On top of tackling all the real world horrors, the author has also blended in nightmarish horrors kind of à la Stranger Things and Love Craft Country (I’m primarily recalling the twin girls scene, but also the idea of shedding skins works well here). Except these strange things are rather more R rated, come from within, and only want to murder the three of them. I struggled with the build up to the climax, wondering if it was about to fumble the twist, and luckily, the author really pulled it off. The explanation of the Calla’s really worked for me, and that unique spin on sacrificing yourself for your siblings, that breaking yourself down into smaller and smaller pieces—or versions of yourself—even when you have nothing more to give, was really powerful.
This book also tackles anger. Being angry with the world, with the hand you’ve been dealt, with not being loved and wanted, with your family, and even with yourself. Jamie can’t get over the way life has treated him. He’s angry, and he’s even angrier that as a black teen, the world isn’t build to accept his anger. It’s raw, it’s real, and I found this novel to be a really strong way to talk about the subject. There’s things to learn here below the surface, and it also works as a functional horror if that’s not your thing.