The Reformatory

Real talk, this one wasn't for me. I can recognize that the story was well written and that Due really did her homework with that one but I never really got into it. I'm not a fan of ghost stories in general or of lengthy stories so I knew going in the the odds were stacked against it. It's a good book I was just really not the audience for it.

Adding “The Reformatory” by Tananarive Due to my list of completed reads for 2024 brings me a sense of accomplishment. Despite missing its initial surge of popularity in 2023, the book's omnipresence in book-related YouTube videos compelled me to dive in, and I'm grateful for the experience. However, it seems I'm in the minority with my opinions, as the book has garnered high praise from many other readers.

Initially, I attributed my slow progress through the novel to its intense subject matter, particularly the stark depiction of life within The Gracetown School for Boys. Set in 1950s Jim Crow Florida, this institution serves more as a prison for young boys like Robbie Stephens, a 12-year-old black child sentenced after a confrontation with the son of a wealthy white landowner. Robbie's ability to perceive “haints” (ghosts) adds an intriguing supernatural element to the narrative, offering a tantalizing introduction to Due's storytelling style.

While certain aspects of the book were enjoyable, I found myself grappling with segments that felt overly laden with exposition, longing for a tighter narrative structure. The inclusion of chapters focusing on Gloria, while perhaps intended to enrich the plot, only served to slow the pace without contributing significantly to the overall story.

Despite expectations set by quotes from horror authors adorning the cover, “The Reformatory” didn't quite deliver the anticipated thrill. This discrepancy left me somewhat disappointed, craving a more pronounced horror element throughout the narrative. However, I remain intrigued by Due's ability to intertwine tough social issues with supernatural elements, and I'm open to exploring more of her works in the future.

Although the book fell short of being a home run for me, I found solace in its satisfying conclusion and appreciated the author's recommendations for further exploration of historical context through other media. Ultimately, while “The Reformatory” didn't fully meet my expectations, its blend of challenging themes and supernatural intrigue still leaves a lasting impression

DNF 20%. I wanted to like this, and it started out so good. 20% in and it's already dragging. I think 2 things are getting in the way of this being a great book:
1. It's way too long
2. I feel like there is no need for supernatural horrors when the actual horrors of living in Jim Crow south are enough.
When I was contemplating DNFing this I went and looked at some of the more negative reviews (3 star and below) and it seems that they all agree this book was too long and drawn out. Since I was already feeling this way at the 20% mark I knew it wasn't for me.

 I think it wasn???t a good idea to follow up Kiesling???s Mobility with this one, because Mobility made me angry, but this one made me angry AND sad and terrified. Despite that though it???s still SO VERY GOOD.
This novel follows in the pattern I???ve seen a lot of BIPOC horror writers go: to show the horror and monstrosity of the real-world systemic problem of racism. But what Due does here is to laser-focus on the atrocities committed in institutions like the Dozier School for Boys in Florida, which is the main inspiration for the titular Reformatory in this book, as well as on life in the Jim Crow South, using Gracetown as a kind of microcosm of the wider milieu at the time the story is set.
While the history itself is very interesting, and the references Due provides at the end of the novel are going into my TBR list for future reading, it???s the characters that really pulled me into this. The protagonists, Robbie and Gloria, are the lynchpins around which this entire story hinges and they are absolutely stellar. Robbie is an excellent portrayal of a twelve-year-old boy caught in up in unjust and dangerous circumstances, trying to do his best to survive. He doesn???t always make smart decisions, but he???s just twelve after all: something which is both heartbreaking and frightening given where he is for most of the novel.
I???m most drawn to his older sister, Gloria. She???s entirely, heartbreakingly human: constantly drifting between anger, blame, and guilt, but always, ALWAYS trying to do what???s best for her family and for her community. Like her brother, she doesn???t always make the best decisions, but then again she???s just a teenager herself, forced to give up so much of her own dreams and aspirations in order to take care of her family. She gives ???Eldest Asian Daughter??? vibes, though I guess that should more accurately be ???Eldest BIPOC Daughter??? vibes, given how familiar Gloria???s situation will be to more POC than just Asians.
I???m also delighted by the other characters around the protagonists. Miz Lottie is a personal favorite of mine, partially because of her maternal nature, but also because of her inner strength of will, which is rooted in her backstory. Said backstory isn???t told in explicit detail, but there???s plenty of information in the book (and hopefully in the reader???s own knowledge of history) to give a pretty good picture of what said backstory is, without the author having to show it. The same goes for June and Waymon, and Gloria and Robert???s father: their stories tell facets of African-American history that are never explicitly discussed, but anyone with a good grasp of history ought to be able to pick them up just fine.
As for the other characters, both white and Black, well??? Not all of them are as villainous as the novel???s main antagonist (who is TRULY a piece of work in an utterly nightmarish - and historically accurate - way), but it becomes so easy to see why Gracetown and the Reformatory are as bad as they are. Their reluctance to fight back against the system is, sometimes, not their fault, as they, too, are trapped by the system in some way (because they???re a woman, or they???re Jewish, or are probably gay, or trans), but sometimes their reluctance is borne of how they hinge so much of their lives on ???respectability??? and their own personal comfort that they cannot actually DO anything progressive. It???s not a particularly obvious thread in the novel, but Due certainly doesn???t hesitate to point out that respectability never got anyone anywhere when those one is opposing don???t follow the same rules about respectability as oneself does.
But what I think this book does best is also the thing it is the least subtle about: that the real horror is the systemic history of racism and slavery in the United States, a history that the country still refuses to acknowledge and deal with upfront, and instead keeps trying to silence and bury. The ghosts are spooky, sure, and there were moments when I had to go ???Noooope!??? and put the book away despite deliberately choosing to read it in daylight, but the real monster here is the very, VERY deep vein of racism that ran and continues to run through American society. The details as Due describes them are rooted in history; she explains in her Author???s Note at the end of the book the kind of research she undertook to get those details right. What???s saddening (and terrifying) is that she didn???t have to look very far to find first-hand witnesses to those atrocities described in the book. It???s easy to forget that lynching was still popular in the 1950s, a scant 70-odd years ago, and that many of the people who took part in the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s-1970s are still alive today.
Overall, this novel is a very scary, utterly nightmarish read - and not necessarily because of the ghosts. In fact, in some ways the ghosts are the least scary part of it. The scariest part is the history that Due uses as the groundwork for this novel - and the realization that we are still haunted by that history in the present day. 

Brutal, tragic, and so good. Like, don't go into this without knowing what you're getting into. I knew what I was getting into, but there was a part that I ended up reading in a coffee shop, and I sort of wish I'd been at home, because it was hard not to start crying. If something makes me want to start crying whilst I'm on Zoloft and Focalin, that's a good sign. For the book, I mean. Not for the poor, precious character or my mental state.

My favorite character too. sobs