Jesmyn Ward is a superb Writer. Every time I read her works I am moved in ways I never thought possible. It is uncanny how she is able to capture the reality of black minority in the South.

This was a hard read for me, it is one of those books you have to take your time reading because it is overflowing with hurt, loss, disappointment and a lot of subliminal messages. I honestly felt weighed down reading this book and I guess in a way Ward did her job because the pain in this book stuck with me.

This book definitely lived up to the hype and it is clear that Ward's writing only gets better with time.

This story examines the role of family in sustaining the struggles and tragedies associated with poverty and racial injustice in the rural South, the Gulf Coast Mississippi in particular. The black partriarch of this particular family, River, maintains his integrity and scrapes by with gardening and raising pigs and goats. Unfortunately, his beloved wife is dying of cancer, and his daughter, Leonie, who has been staying with them with her children by a white father now in prison, is proving herself an irresponsible mother. The reader identifies most with, Jojo, a 13-year old who finds himself continually stepping up to the plate to care for and protect his toddler sister, Kayla, from the neglect and flaky behavior of Leonie, whom his grandmother at one point notes “ain’t got the mothering instinct”. He respects and loves deeply his grandfather, whom he calls Pop. He learns a lot from him about life and work. In the face of Jojo’s worry about the upcoming trip planned by Leonie to pick up her husband Michael on his release from the infamous Parchman Prison, Pop reassures him with the simple words that “he is a man.” By the end of the book, Jojo will pay back this love by helping Pop come to terms with events from his own youth that pushed his moral choices to the limit.

From the set-up mentioned so far, some might be wary that the story will turn into a heart-wrenching tale of pluck and goodness over sad fortune and injustice, i.e. the stereotypical choice of the Oprah Book Club. Instead, the journey assumes mythic overtones, and certain ghosts of people who met an untimely death become central characters for Jojo as the machinations of his parents and his mother’s druggie companion on the trip assume a rather unreal existence. One such ghost, Given, was Pop’s oldest son, an idealistic football star who was killed in a supposed hunting accident with his white friends his senior year. The other ghost, Richie, died as a teen while at Parchman when Pop was there for a stint in his 20s. He gets his own narrative and has a mission for Jojo to complete to help him get on in his arc in the beyond. He wants to find “home”, which is not a place but a song, “and I’m going to be part of the song” (an obvious pointer to the book’s mysterious title).

Ward has a fresh unique voice, which I was first mightily impressed with in her “Salvage the Bones”, a teen-aged girl’s version of her family’s move toward cohesion from chaos in the face of the threat of Hurricane Katrina. The magical realism elements owe some to the precedents of Toni Morrison, but for some reason Jojo’s acclimatization to the plane of the supernatural in the tale reminded me of the more religious spiritual journey of Baldwin’s character in “Go Tell It on The Mountain.”

This book was provided by the publisher for review through the Netgalley program.

By all means, most of Sing, Unburied, Sing could be summarized in a few short sentences. A young mother who is more interested in drugs than parenting drags a coworker and her children along when their father is due to be released from prison. Meanwhile, her mother suffers from cancer that has nearly finished its destructive path, and her father harbors a dark secret. But that simple summary would discount the magical language that Ward uses to capture her characters. Jojo may be a boy forced to take care of his sister from a young age, but he still retains some of the wonder of childhood. Their mother, Leonie, may be filled with rage and desperation, but her short temper is offset by some truly gorgeous phrasing. Oh, and did I mention the ghosts? Yeah, there are ghosts.

This was a beautifully written, rich book, which I feel like would have been far better to read with a group to digest some of the deeper underlying themes that I think I only understood or picked up on minimally. It is fairly short and well worth the time! I would like to come back to this one and go through it with other readers who can speak to details of the book that initially seemed odd to me, but by the end I gathered related to deeper messages the author is conveying.

Few books have been able to affect me like "Sing, Unburied, Sing" ("A Fine Balance" by Rohinton Mistry was the last one). As a reader, you are pulled into this other world where you otherwise would never wish to go, a world filled with abuse, death, drugs, illness, poverty and racial divide. Fortunately, family and love give glimpses of hope, intensifying the struggle of each character. Every chapter is narrated in first-person by a rotating cast, each with their own vices, desires, motivation and logic. Although sometimes hard to read, it is highly readable, as only Jesmyn Ward can so masterfully do.

This is a powerful voice in literary fiction and painfully raw story of a 13-year black boy, Jojo, who is shouldering the supernatural and adult world simultaneously, in other words has too much food on his plate. The writing is exquisitely crafted, like every word of every story is ready to pack an emotional punch.

"Sometimes, the world don't give you what you need, no matter how hard you look. Sometimes, it withholds."

After his Leonie (his mother) becomes absent too often because she's out snorting pills, Jojo becomes a surrogate parent for his three year old sister, Kayla. His father is stuck in the Mississippi prison, also an absent figure from their lives. He learns about the discrimination of the black people in his family and ghosts that are around him, but he learns profound lessons that impact his worldview and how he perceives other people portrayal of him.

Living at their grandparent's farm in the deep South on the Gulf of Mississippi, Jojo learns a lot about how to be a black man, and hears stories of Pop's unfortunate stay in Parchman, the Mississippi Prison that haunt both of them in different ways. Ward is absolutely at the top of her writing game, this writing was the most lyrical piece of work that I've read in a long time; this may remain as on the top of my favorite list this year. This story is dark, so trigger warnings for abuse and violence.

She explores deep and complicated issues like abuse, race, incarceration, drug use, privilege and poverty, with the lens of balancing multiples POVs that are essentially interconnected to a car trip to get Jojo's father, Michael when he was released from prison. A lot of painfully sad things happen to Jojo and his sister Kayla, and so the author was able to create an opening for the empathy and sympathy that I deeply felt for these characters. The ability that Ward has to get to the very soul, the core of every core is so enlightening and excellent that closing this book felt like losing their essence.

"I didn't understand time either, when I was young. How could I know that after I died, Parchman would pull me from the sky? How could I imagine Parchman would pull me to it and refuse to let go? And how could I conceive that Parchman was past, present and future all at once? That the history and sentiment that carved the place out of the wilderness would show me that time is a vast ocean and that everything is happening at once?"

Interweaved throughout this story are the hidden stories of ghosts and the injustices in their past life. In that way, there is a prevalent is magical realism. There is lots of contemplation about the idea of home, what that means to each individual, and 'does the truth set you free?' We all know that life is messy; that why I'm a fan of untidy ending and this wraps up one perfect breath of a novel.

**Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with an ARC in exchange for my honest review. All opinions are my own.**

I fell in love with the words of Jesmyn Ward years ago. Salvage the Bones is a story that has stayed with me while so many others have been quickly forgotten. So it was with great anticipation that I dove into her newest novel.

Young JoJo has a mom. And he has a dad. But neither of them is very strong in the parenting department. Dad’s in prison, and mom Leonnie seemed to have missed getting the maternal instinct gene. Luckily, though, JoJo and his baby sister Kayla have the love and parenting of their grandparents. Life is hard, but there’s always plenty to eat and more than enough love to go around. When it’s time for dad to be released from prison, Leonnie decides that a family road trip is in order. Forget the fact that neither child wants much to do with her. They’re both uprooted against their grandparents’ wishes and off they go. Along the way there’s illness, drug deals, hunger, and handcuffs.

Oh and ghosts. Did I mention the ghosts? Leonnie, JoJo, and baby Kayla it would seem are all blessed, or cursed, with the ability to see spirits. Leonnie is haunted by the image of her dead brother. And JoJo picks up a friend at the prison, a young life lost long ago. Both have unfinished business.

This is the story, and it’s a good enough story that it’s enough. But then add in the hauntingly beautiful words of the author and you have something else. You have a piece of literature that is an epic tale, a tragedy of great proportions that will keep you reading until the very end.

There are no happy endings in this story. But does life always guarantee us as much? If you’re expecting everything to be wrapped up neat and tidy by the last page, then this isn’t the story for you. If, however, you’re looking for a raw and realistic portrayal of life written in the most beautiful way, look no further.

I had been craving a book that would touch me and remind me of home and of family: Sing, Unburied, Sing is it. It is a story of Southern boyhood, regret, longing, and family. The book reminded me quite a bit of Toni Morrison's work - lyrical and mythical without being overbearing. This book really is Jesmyn Ward at her best. I am still trying to unpack all of my thoughts. A fuller review is forthcoming.

Thank you to Scribner and Net Galley for an advance reader's copy of the book.

Brilliant book. The writing is exquisite- .."her voice was a fishing line thrown so weakly the wind catches it" The descriptions were so visceral that I could feel my body react and recoil. This book opened my eyes to a world I have never been part of- a world filled with need and hunger.; a world filled with brutality. My heart ached for JoJo and his sister Kayla and for their maternal grandparents, who always tried to live honourably. They both have a special bond with their grandparents. Their mother, Leonie is an on again off again presence in their lives as her drug use is more important to her. Their father is just being released from jail and Leonie forces her kids to come on a "road trip" to pick him up. That road trip left me drained. What those children are exposed to is unbelievable. Yet I know this is not that unusual in our world today.
JoJo, Kayla and their mother, Leonie had a gift- their gift was being able to see lingering spirits and commune with them. I wasn't sure about this element of the book, despite the fact that the book was brilliant. Highly recommend this book.

Thank you for the opportunity to review this well-written, engrossing novel. While I won't use it in teaching, I will recommend it to others!

This book fills up every part of your body and brain. There is nothing left of you, and only Jesmyn Ward's words remain. There is so much aching, so much unbearable weight. You can be flattened with unbelievable sorrow in one paragraph, and spotting flickers of hope and light in the next. While there are many books set in the Deep South, Jesmyn Ward brings something profound and original to the setting.

Heartbreaking. A story of love and the different kinds of loving. The selfish and the selfless. Leonie's so different to Jojo's. At least the children can rely on Pop and Mam. Jojo's spiritual gift uncovers a desperate secret held by his grandfather for many years , and can finally put it to rest. This is a book which would be enjoyed by my book group so I would recommend it.

Jesmyn Ward's latest is a truly American novel. She tackles head on issues of race, justice, class, and drug use. Her protagonist is a 13 year old boy who is saddled with too much responsibility for his extended family at too young an age. This book is like being tossed in the ocean, it's choppy and at times feels like you are just circling back on the same themes. It's a slow starter with some deep ideas, but is at times hard to get involved in and follow.

Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward

Sing, Unburied, Sing is the generational story about a family. Pop and Mam had two children, Leonie and Given. Given has been dead for years. Leonie has two children, JoJo and Kayla, whom she leaves at home with her parents, while she gets high. The children’s father, Michael, has been in jail for the last three years and has never even met Kayla. Neither has Michael’s parents, both white, who refuse to acknowledge their biracial grandchildren. Hurt feelings run deep in this part of Mississippi, where spirits roam the land and stories have gone untold for far too long.

This novel covers so many different topics from modern day racism, drug use, police brutality and the stigma of the deep south. The alternating narratives worked really well in this story and moved the plot along nicely. Each generation had its own story and each story added depth to the entire novel. I was invested in all the extremely well developed characters as they sought to deal with their own ghosts in a myriad of different ways. I loved how well developed the world was. It was almost unsettling after reading the initial description of the novel to then realize that all these conditions are set against a modern day story. The severity of the situation was very apparent from the beginning.

This was my first novel by Ward and I must admit that I was not disappointed. She was able to craft together an extremely well done narrative that alternated between generations and spiritual worlds. I do feel as if the end was slightly rushed. I could have easily read another fifty to a hundred pages of this novel.

Thank you Net Galley. A fascinating journey through the lives of family living on the edge in a land of extremes. The writing and the plotting are excellent. Jessmyn Ward is a "must read" author.

Stunningly rendered. At the risk of being oxymoronic, sad tale but beautifully written is the most apt description I can give of this novel. Your heart will absolutely ache for Jojo, i.e. Joseph. Jesmyn is certainly at the top of her game with Sing, Unburied, Sing. She sets this novel in the Mississippi Delta, and we have two main narrators Leonie, the young mother and Jojo her thirteen year old son, and a third narrator who leads three chapters and his presence gives explanation to the book’s title, Richie.

Jojo and his little sister Kayla are children of Leonie, who is a drug abusing mother with zero mothering instincts. The three of them live with Mam and Pop, Leonie's parents and the children's grandparents. Jojo is like the surrogate father, as Leonie is often gone and the father, Michael is locked up in the notorious Parchman prison. Kayla reaches to Jojo for succor and nurture much to Leonie's dismay. Jesmyn is great at writing viscerally, and the reader will feel the simmering emotion of Jojo. Jesmyn subtly takes on poverty, racism and drug abuse. We get to experience the drug use along with Leonie. Leonie has hooked up with Michael since high school and he is the white father of her two kids. It was a sense of two broken souls recognizing each other that brought them together.

"Because I wanted Michael’s mouth on me, because from the first moment I saw him walking across the grass to where I sat in the shadow of the school sign, he saw me. Saw past skin the color of unmilked coffee, eyes black, lips the color of plums, and saw me. Saw the walking wound I was, and came to be my balm." Michael's parents never approved of the union and didn't meet their grandchildren until JoJo was a teenager and Kayla a toddler as they stopped by their house on the way back from picking up Michael after a three year stint in the prison.

Jesmyn brilliantly uses that actual road trip to take readers on a virtual trip thru the lives of Leonie, Pop and Man, and also Given. Given is the older brother of Leonie who lost his life to one of Michael's cousin's. Leonie often can see and hear Given, she finds these visions comforting especially when she is high. Jesmyn has layered the book on different levels, weaving past present and future in a haunting magnificence. Pop often regales young Jojo with stories about his life and his own stay at Parchman. Pop is struggling in dealing with Mam who is dying of cancer and Jesmyn 's writing around the decay and devastation of cancer and Mam's way of dealing and exiting this life is the phenomenal highlight of a book that has many. The novel moves back and forth in time, eventually coming full circle, and it is mostly through Pop and Jojo's interactions and conversations that this five star tale gets flushed out. Pop has some psychological scars from his time at Parchman and shares with Jojo bits at a time. This adds a bit of suspense to the novel, because readers will want the complete story of what happened. It seems he tells Jojo the same beginning and middle parts of his Parchman stay, but never the ending, well the ending of Pop's story coincides with the denouement of the novel and the book title will be clearly and fully brought to light. An excellent undertaking by Jesmyn Ward. I received an advanced reading copy from Netgalley in exchange for a review. The book will publish Sept. 5, 2017.

What a lovely, lyrical novel! While heartbreaking at times, it speaks of the human condition and the depths of love and grief. When drug-addicted Leonie's white husband is released from prison, she bundles up her son and daughter and they embark on a journey that is both dark and hopeful. Leonie has visions of her dead brother when she's high and son, Jojo cares for little sister, Kayla while on their way to Parchman. While not all the characters are lovable--most are flawed--this is a heartbreakingly beautiful look at family, love, and loss.

Careful now. This one might kick your teeth in when you're not looking, leave you in cold sweats, hoping and praying everyone pulls through. Jesmyn Ward's writing is sharp enough that she does damage before you realize you've been cut; nobody walks away from this one unscathed. A word of warning: the book opens with the butchering of a goat, warm sticky spurts of stuff you might not wanna read about, like peeling flesh and stinking viscera, which is to say Ward sets the tone fast and firm up front, and it's not like it gets any lighter from there. There's a horror behind the everyday that we're supposed to feel as we read. And boy do we end up feeling a lot for these characters.

This is low living, real living, the kind most of us who pick up a book like this have probably never done. But some of us have lived <em>around</em> that kind of real, low living. No money for possessions or gifts, but just enough for drugs. Where everyone knows someone that's dead for a good reason or a bad one, and it doesn't make much difference after the fact. Kids and parents and grandparents sharing beds and floors across generations, collectively in the same shit, fighting the daily battles of a hardscrabble existence.

That's the starting point, and Ward uses a palette of heavy dialect laced with a kind of affected, writerly lyricism to bring it all to life. It's OK that most of these characters wouldn't articulate their thoughts into such clean, evocative poetry because the effect is so pleasing to read, and the narrative, like the title, sings. If the inner monologues feel <em>right</em> but not necessarily <em>true</em>, the dialogue is spot on across the board, rich with a flowing cadence and rural vernacular that exists outside my daily bubble but calls up memories of the small town I left decades ago, where drugs gutted the populace and only a few of us left with our hands clean.

Ward shows us life on the gulf coast of Mississippi because there's a certain kind of truth that makes sense there, and it fits the tale she needs to tell. As much as the book is about race—and it is, with a black mother setting off to meet the white father of her mixed-race kids—it's as much about life in a certain kind of place, and the way demarcations like race and class conspire to push you down even more within that backdrop. Ghosts and spirits overlay the narrative quite a bit more than I expected, casting the events against a backdrop of a modern mythology that could only exist in America. It feels almost biblical, or at least spiritual, like reality overlaid with the ghosts of history to give us a tapestry of pain and survival in the American south. I'll stop trying to capture the tone of Ward's exceptional accomplishment and just suggest you run out and read this for yourself.

I'm blown away by the power and the prose in this novel. This novel sings sorrow like no other book in a long time. Joao and Kayla ache with wanting a better life, and the love they share as siblings is so heartwarming and protective. This kind of writing should be screamed about from the rooftops. It's a marvel and a gem, and is most likely, I hope, a clear winner of all prizes. Bravo indeed. This is fiction of the highest order, and should be required reading for all.

This book is magic on so many levels. From the sentence-level beauty to the overall, heartbreaking story arc. Ward's description of southern poverty and race is so achingly real, so terrible but rich in beauty. What really struck me was the way that their power (magical and non) has been taken from them, erased by an oppressive culture that convinced them their own power was a disease, an impediment. Whether you see it as a metaphor or a truth, there's so much power in this book it radiates like the sun.