Review of Sorrowland by Rivers Solomon: A Haunting Journey of Transformation and Truth
From the moment I stumbled upon Rivers Solomon’s Sorrowland, I felt an inexplicable pull—a call to uncover hidden truths layered within haunting narratives. A gothic sci-fi tale interwoven with the complexities of race, trauma, and transformation, this book promised not just a story, but an experience that would resonate deeply with anyone who has grappled with the legacies of history. And let me tell you, it did not disappoint.
At its heart, Sorrowland chronicles the journey of Vern, a fifteen-year-old girl escaping the confines of Blessed Acres, or more colloquially known as Cainland—a black religious compound that mirrors the darkest corners of American history. Vern is not just running from a physical space; she is fleeing a legacy ingrained in the exploitation of black bodies—a theme that Solomon explores both poignantly and powerfully. As Vern navigates the dangerous woods, fiercely protective of her newborn twins, her transformation isn’t just a metamorphosis of body; it’s a reclamation of strength, a grappling with her personal history while reflecting on the broader injustices faced by the black community.
One of the remarkable aspects of Solomon’s writing is the seamless blend of the ordinary and the supernatural. Vern’s initial near-blindness and subsequent surreal experiences—seeing ghosts and contending with shifting realities—are not only strikingly imaginative but serve as metaphors for the ghosts of America’s past that haunt us all. The way these elements entwine with the rhetoric of reclamation and justice is both chilling and empowering, drawing readers into the depths of Vern’s internal struggle.
However, I found myself wanting more. The narrative felt rushed towards the end, as if Solomon had so many vital threads to tie up that the resolution felt a bit hurried. While the focus on Vern’s growth and relationships was commendable, there were moments where supporting characters and settings lacked the detail I craved. Cainland, in particular, remained a shadowy concept rather than a vivid reality, leaving me yearning for a deeper understanding of its architecture and the psyche of its inhabitants. Similarly, certain plot points appeared inconsistently paced, making me wish for a longer read that would allow more thorough exploration.
This isn’t to detract from the impactful storytelling that unfolds. Vern’s journey is undeniably transformative, showcasing her strength in face of relentless adversity. Quotes that echo throughout the book resonate with lingering truths, prompting readers to reflect on systemic injustices and personal resilience. Solomon confronts uncomfortable histories with grace, inviting readers into a dialogue about the past’s influence on present realities.
Sorrowland is more than a gothic tale; it’s a call to confrontation and understanding. I believe this book will resonate with anyone interested in themes of identity, race, and the complexities of human experience—particularly those who appreciate a blend of the eerie and the poignant. It’s a perfect companion for readers of Harriet A. Washington’s Medical Apartheid, as both texts grapple with the past’s injustices and their ongoing impact on present-day society.
Ultimately, my reading experience of Sorrowland was one of urgency and reflection—a reminder that while stories often delve into realms of fantasy, the truths they unearth are all too real. Solomon’s work not only invokes empathy but also inspires a commitment to education and advocacy. And as I turned the final page, I was left contemplating not just Vern’s future, but our collective journey towards understanding and change.