Crosshairs

Crosshairs follows the story of Kay, a black drag queen, and his allies in their journey to fight back against an oppressive regime who has been capturing and rounding up “Others” (pretty much anyone who isn't white, cis, and straight-passing) into concentration camps.

I honestly could not have started reading this book in a more opportune time. In the midst of a global pandemic and race rebellion, many of the ideas presented in the book are incredibly relevant. While technically Crosshairs is a “dystopian novel”, the current situation in the U.S. made it way too believable. From the physical and systemic exclusion of Others, to the response by the government during an environmental disaster (which disproportionately affects black and brown people), Crosshairs was a chilling and topical read throughout. I will say that had it not been for the current political/social climate in the U.S., I might have struggled to really “believe” the plot – but, it's a dystopian novel! so it's not meant to be entirely “believable”.

The cast was relatively small, and each character was well-thought out and nuanced in their thoughts and actions. Hernandez excellently portrayed the diversity of the cast, using careful, intentional language that was accessible and educational. Hernandez explained topics of privilege, systemic racism, and queerness, in a way that was easy to read and perfectly fit within the context of a dystopian novel.

I cannot say enough good things about this book! Would highly recommend this to anyone who loves drag queens, dystopian novels, and taking down fascist regimes! Thank you to NetGalley and Atria Books for providing me an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

It's a near future dystopian Toronto that finds the white colonizers backed into a corner after a devastating flood which prompts the Renovation. Politicians couch their words in the dog whistle rhetoric of only being concerned with protecting the interests of “True Canadians.” There is a symbolic joining of hands with Americans under the slyly subversive mantra “Two Nations, One Vision.” Soon a jackbooted militia referred to as Boots brings their heavy-handed “order” to bear with thuggish tactics that target people of color and those with disabilities or on the LGBTQ2S+ spectrum.

Forced into work camps or sent into hiding, these “Others” rely on each other, with the help of allies that aren't trying to center their own voices or white knight their way into some kind of cathartic redemption. It's a powerful story that provides countless moments that feel all too horribly plausible.

But what was bothering me about the story was clarified when I found out that author Catherine Hernandez is a dramaturge. That theatre background shines through. The beats are bigger and boisterous - the emotion front and center and always out loud. There's a clear eye to the physicality of many scenes and you can imagine certain lines being expelled from the diaphragm to play to the cheap seats. Her intersectionality informs the casting and we're careful to check all the boxes from the obvious racialized communities as well as queer, trans, and gay to the neurodivergent, disabled and deaf. You're building to that big theatrical payoff at the end where these “othered” take the stage, spotlighted and proudly defiant in all their diversity in a rousing chorus that builds to an epic crescendo, hold for the requisite triumphant bars, and then the curtain falls as the house lights go dark. Beat. Roaring applause.