“But stories are like people, Atticus. Loving them doesn’t make them perfect. You try to cherish their virtues and overlook their flaws. The flaws are still there, though.”

Ok, full disclosure. I had never heard of this book until last month. And even then I had essentially no idea what it was about except for something to do with horror writer H.P. Lovecraft (I am so not into horror, and not really pulp sci-fi either, and have never actually read anything by him) and racism. This was a book club choice and definitely way outside my awareness zone. Which, honestly, is part of the reason I like book clubs. In any case, before I started, I read up a little on the book and author. That mostly didn’t help me get any better hold on what the book was actually about. But it did give me some insight into the author – who apparently is a cult classic sort of writer (which made me even more nervous to read this – I’ve never really been into cult classic type stuff). After reading this, I totally get why...

Let me try to explain what this is about… The entire story takes place during Jim Crow in America – although the actual setting is up north (in and around Chicago and Boston), the sentiment is more or less the same, even if it wasn’t lawfully enforced. Atticus is a young black man, coming home after serving in Korea, after hearing his father (Montrose) has disappeared. His Uncle George and childhood friend Letitia accompany him on his journey to find his father. In the course of that adventure, they meet Caleb Braithwhite, a “natural philosopher” (a euphemism for magician if I’ve ever read one) who has some serious and intense long-term plans at taking over the Order of the Ancient Dawn, some kind of national natural philosopher society...plans that end up centered around Atticus, Letitia and their two families. As the book progresses, these family and friends become ever more embroiled in Caleb’s plots, fighting against magical “spells” and malevolent spirits, while simultaneously just trying to survive in white America. It’s ambitious as hell, but damned if Ruff doesn’t pull it off (pardon my language, but there’s truly no other way for me to express it).

Before I start, and as a caveat to this whole review, I’d like to point out again that I have never actually read anything by Lovecraft – just bear that in mind and know that there’s a lot I may have missed while reading and won’t know to mention. On the flipside, let me also say that my lack of experience therein did not, in any way, prevent this book from being completely absorbing. Here we go. This book was just plain bizarre. A strange, non-stop, twisting and turning adventure of the peculiar. The elements of the mystical and enchanted that were a thread throughout the novel were strong and consistent, but also creepy. I see the horror aspects, for sure, but it was never bad enough to keep me awake at night or anything like that (and I have a low tolerance for terror). I really appreciated that. And it was really cool how many different types of “magic,” were involved – mystical languages and spells, communicating with ghosts, parallel universes, other planets, blood and physical magics, and more. The breadth kept things intriguing and moving forwards.

“He wasn’t afraid for himself. He was afraid for me. He wanted to protect me. He had: He saved my life, getting me away from that gunfight. But the night wasn’t over and he knew he wasn’t going to be there to see me through it. That’s the horror, the most awful thing: to have a child the world wants to destroy and know that you’re helpless to help him. Nothing worse than that. Nothing worse.”

At the same time as all that was going on, the author really put a spotlight on the fear and terror of actual life racism in America. (Granted, and worth mentioning, he’s writing from a completely opposite #ownvoices place, as a white man, but it was such visceral writing that the representation seemed at least fair. In addition, as he mentions in his afterward, he went in with the goal of highlighting the disparity particular to black representation in sci-fi, which is a unique niche and was impressively well explored here, at least in my opinion.) In any case, this juxtaposition of themes was really masterfully crafted, the one serving to really underscore the other in distinctive way. I have a little bit of apprehension about this. I worry that perhaps the fact that this book is so weird, so unreal/unnatural, that the truth he describes regarding being black in America could potentially backfire – instead of calling attention to the problem as it still exists, it may cause people to associate it with the real of the unnatural, and therefore not happening in real life and not worth worrying about, events of this story. Maybe I’m thinking too hard about it? I don’t know about everyone else, but at least in my opinion, the two kinds of horror presented side by side here was absolutely striking.

In a slight change of focus, I want to mention that I loved the structure of this book. Each section was written as a sort of short story, a format commonly used by Lovecraft himself. Each family member’s introduction into Caleb’s plot, their individual “how I got involved” story, was told in a separate POV chapter. Sometimes there’d be cameos from other family members or details from other stories, and sometimes not. This vehicle for plot development allowed for easy transitions between types of mysticism and perspectives of racism that allowed for a lot of “world” expansion and depth. It was also very cool that they could mostly be read on their own and be full tales, but also worked together towards something greater: the last section, where all characters and details came together for the dénouement. It would be even more awesome if each of these sections/stories were a sort of homage to different Lovecraft stories, but alas, I cannot tell you if that true or not. It would just be a really splendid if it were true. No matter the case, the control of the story-telling and plot advancement is masterful.

“But for a long while they were laughing too hard to answer. […] ‘What is it you’re trying to scare me with? You think I don’t know what country I live in? I know. We all do. We always have. You’re the one who doesn’t understand.’”

This quote/moment at the end that just truly sums things up, that carries the weight of the message about the legacy of slavery and racism in the US that brings it to the forefront of the reader’s mind at the end in a way that is both snarky and heartbreaking, though the moment also carries some hope for freedom and the future (the perfect sentiment for the tone of this novel). The levels to that moment are ones that the whole book had been building to and, for me, really makes the final call, as far as what the “goal” of this book is.

This book is like the Donnie Darko or Pulp Fiction of literature (except with a greater message – like, vibes of Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad). And, in the same way I like, respect, and am entertained by those movies, I liked, respected and was entertained by this book. It took me a little bit to get into it, but I’ll be honest, once it happened, I was totally hooked. I do not at all regret reading it and, depending on the person, I would totally recommend it. However, for the record, I also have to say this is never going to be a book I head back to for a reread.