We Are a Haunting

We Are a Haunting by Tyriek White is exactly what author Kiese Laymon says it says: So New York while paying homage to the South. What a stellar debut for Tyriek White! I am truly looking forward to reading more from this author after enjoying this supernatural family saga ripe with magical realism and social commentary about growing up Black & poor in America.

We Are a Haunting is set in 1980s East New York (Brooklyn) and tells a multi-generational story that starts with a young, Black doula named Key. Key, just like her mother, Audrey, has the spiritual gift of being able to speak to and for the dead. This is a gift, or a curse, depending on how you consider it, she passes down to her son, Colly. Told with intersecting narratives we follow the journey of Key and Colly from past to present. We journey with Key as she falls in love with her future husband and drug dealer, Dante and we follow Colly as he gets expelled from school and navigates his spiritual gifts while trying not to lose his mind. Colly's perspective is often told in the second person in conversation with the spirit of his mother whose presence is with him throughout the narrative. The presence of spirit guides is the foundation of the powerful novel- both seen and unseen forces.

When Colly returns to his neighborhood from college he finds the NYCHA project he grew up in in deteriorating condition. I love that the end of the narrative starts with reclamation and salvaging the parts of what remains. This is truly a poetic novel with layer upon layer of meaning. Each character, each encounter has something special to teach us and as a reader that truly felt like a treat.

Thank you to the author and publisher for the e-arc copy!

I thought that this was a really promising debut that did a good job of blending the literary/historical fiction with the elements of magical realism. Those elements were really interesting and for the most part, well executed. I found myself more engaged in the first half of this book than the second, and the main relationship between Key and Colly was beautifully rendered. I did find that some of the peripheral/ghost/flashback voices started to blend together a bit for me and I would have liked to see a bit more variation between the voices. Ultimately I think it had its flaws, but White is a writer to watch and I think the novel overall is a success. I'm not sure it has the local or topical interest to get a lot of attention at my library, unfortunately.

We Are a Haunting is a lyrical literary debut with a sprinkling of magical realism.

It follows three generations of New Yorkers over thirty years. Grandma Audrey lives in Brooklyn and is on the verge of losing her apartment. Before she passed, her daughter Key could speak to the dead. Key’s son Colly grieves his mother’s death and learns he has a similar gift, all while navigating a world filled with injustices.

The writing in this debut novel is poetic. It’s more slice-of-life and focuses on moments of these characters’ lives. The timeline skips around with each character’s pov.

It discusses a range of topics, including systemic issues and generational trauma.

At times, I struggled with this book’s lack of a plot. I normally prefer character-driven fiction, but this one meandered quite a bit and was difficult to follow.

Although, I can see this book resonating with many readers.

3.5 rounded up.

Thank you to Astra House for providing an arc via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

https://booksandwheels.com

A resonant story about a black family in Brooklyn, "We Are a Haunting" opens with adolescent son Colly mourning his mother Key, who has died of cancer. Colly chats with his mother as if she is still alive and the conversations chain him to the life he once had. The rest of the family is similarly bereaved. Colly's grandmother Audrey is struggling to manage her own memories of her daughter while staying afloat financially. His father is barely there, a somber outline in a chair. His stubborn sister Toya spends as much time as possible at Nana's (Audrey's) instead of home with her father. Author Tyriek White invites the reader to absorb a family in trauma and to luxuriate in the Brooklyn of their lives: Gersh Park, Broadway Junction, the 3 train, Stanley Avenue.

Of the three timelines that saturate the story — 1988 when Key begins her career as a doula (see Beyond the Book), 2007 when Key dies, and 2016 when college-educated Colly returns to the city that raised him — I was especially fascinated by the late 80s, when AIDS is rampant in New York and Key, in her caretaking role, shows tireless stewardship for the pregnant and vulnerable. She thrives in this role while also making note of how it is part of the history she comes from to soothe the discriminated-against helpless: "We have been just like this for centuries, boiling water, laying out rags, soothing a young girl with coos and whispers, all the while at the helm of a war being waged against their existence."

That there are women like Key who know what they are doing in the delivery room is remarked on by a nurse, as if below-standard care is the acceptable norm. But Key is more than a doula. Ample chapters are devoted to her supernatural gift for listening to the dead, which she makes use of even as it leaves a mark upon her. The experience is bruising: "I taste blood…I hear water, first the slow wash of a tide, then rushing, as if caught in a heavy stream that keeps pulling me under. There are voices, pulsing from beneath the water, some wall I can't see."

After Key's death, an acutely afflicted Colly repeatedly touches his emotional wound. I felt within him a sense of having been betrayed by those who had left him, and give White credit for showing the particular sensitivity of an adolescent boy. Colly's mother's absence doesn't paralyze his youth or precocious artistry. He channels his pain and expresses himself in ordinary ways. Laughter and fun with close friend Zaire. Romantic fantasies of Naima, who lives on the Upper East Side.

"You didn't belong here," Colly says to his mother's ghost. "You spoke too frankly, laughed too earnestly, and felt too deeply. You opened yourself up to the world like a pomegranate." In the times that we see her alive, it is her openness that allows Key to dream of and speak to the dead. She asks, "Do the dead still have a right to this world?," which reminded me of a line from the Toni Morrison novel Song of Solomon: "You can't just fly on off and leave a body." While Morrison's imagery of body-as-freight is powerful, so is the way White takes on the difficult task of normalizing the supernatural for those who are skeptical of such things.

One profound experience in Key's life occurs when a woman named Stephanie beckons her. Stephanie's mother, Rosa, died in a candle fire and she is bereft in the aftermath. Key obliges her request to speak with the dead and the story slips back into ancestral time. White, to his credit, avoids the various Catholic and Protestant tropes focusing on the physical presence of God or His mythological wrath. Instead, there is dispensation for those who have died, and for the people who see them there is grace.

When Key has been dead for a year, Colly is at a party with college students, and he overhears someone talking about how trauma can leave a chemical mark in a person's genes and be passed down generationally. Trauma begets trauma. Sadness 30 years earlier is sadness today. It's a powerful idea that White traverses. Key, the good mother, is sensitized to the trauma of the dead. Colly, the kind son, is sensitized to the trauma of his mother. Absence can be pathological. It's less about being cursed and more about being damaged in your cells. It is upon the living to endure the cumulative absences of those who have loved us dearly but are gone in an instant.

This is a multi-generational family saga centered in NYC (with references to the Islands and beyond) and examines the Black experience as they navigate life and death amid the challenges of impoverished inner-city living. The central characters are grandmother, Audrey, her daughter, Key, and her son, Colly – however, the novel is buoyed by colorful neighborhood characters to build a very insular community – and essentially, this community is like a character itself as it suffers too as it falls into dereliction.

Trauma, despair and grief weigh heavy on characters and while we witness Colly grapple with the loss of his mother, we learn of pain and hardship of his ancestors and others – Generational trauma is prevalent and seemingly perpetual; the novel delves into the many ways he and others attempt to cope.

Although magical realism is used to convey the stories of the ancestors via seances and premonitions, the characters’ experiences, observations, and reactions are grounded in reality. The characters are marginalized people pushed to the outer edges of society through no fault of their own. They have limited tools, agency, and resources and are on the cusp of despair - yet they persevere and endure.

This is a character-driven novel and while beautifully written (the lyrical prose, choice of musical references, historical references, and scene setting are stellar), it seemed a bit disjointed at times which disrupted the cadence of the story(ies). Sadly, I found myself vested in only a few characters initially, but as I continued to read, my interest waned – it may be a personal shortcoming of mine; others may remain vested.

Thanks to Astra House and NetGalley for the opportunity to review.