Poetry. Sheer, beautiful, pure poetry. But it's prose. Of course, it is. This is a novel. And. Every. Word. Is. Perfect. That is what makes it poetry. That is what makes the language sing. This book is worth reading just for the writing.
Jojo is 13, almost a man, but still
…more very much a boy. Because his drug-addicted mother, Leonie, is aloof toward and neglectful of her children, Jojo becomes his baby sister Kayla's surrogate parent. Their bond infuriates Leonie. Her man is about to be released from prison in Parchman, Mississippi, and she is going to drive three hours to get him, along with her friend Misty and the two kids. Jojo and Kayla live with their grandparents, Pop and Mam, and this road trip, which is shrouded in danger, makes Pop very nervous—and for good reason. Pop can't make himself go with them, as he was once an inmate there himself. And he has some horrific, bone-chilling tales to tell about his time in prison.
What happens on the drive up and back, as well as in the days following make up the bulk of this novel as the story holds up the past and the present like mirrors to delve into the sacred meaning of family and love but especially grief, death, and the afterlife in ways both profound and passionate.
At its heart, this is a story about the South, of what it means to be white or black, of privilege and prejudice, but it is also just as much a story about America.
This is a short, but oh-so-difficult book to read. It broke my heart, but it also made me think—a lot—about all those grown-up problems from poverty to racial hatred to distant, bitter parents that endanger children and force them to grow up too fast. This is a book that will linger with me. (less)