Broughtupsy, despite its compelling first few pages, proved to be the type of novel that favors style over substance. And sure, while there are books that can pull this off, the 'style' presented by Broughtupsy is both affected and shallow. Striving for a blend of lyricism and immediacy, Christina Cooke’s writing style is not far removed from that of Tumblr poetry. Cooke's excessive reliance on repetition and onomatopoeias comes across as gimmicky and posey. It's unfortunate, given what the novel could have accomplished. I know it's a somewhat overused ‘put-down’, but Broughtupsy did have potential.
The novel centers on Akúa who left Jamaica for Canada as a child, not long after her mother’s death. Now twenty, Akúa is once again grieving, this time the death of her younger brother, Bryson. Seeking to reconnect with her estranged older sister, Tamika, Akúa makes the impulsive decision to spend two weeks in Kingston.
While I’m all for flawed, or even unlikeable, characters, I found Akúa to be both insufferable and not particularly believable. I had a hard time buying into how naive she is and continues to be throughout the novel. Her inability to comprehend diverse perspectives, to accept that people feel different things and or respond differently to the same situations, felt far-fetched. Upon arriving in Kingston, her actions, particularly regarding their brother's ashes, contribute to tensions with Tamika, yet Akúa often perceives others as unreasonable, displaying a self-centered and self-victimizing attitude. Time and time again I wanted to ask her: what did you expect? What possessed you? ...you did this for what?
Despite claiming a desire to reconnect to Tamika, Akúa demonstrates little genuine interest in Tamika, let alone her experiences. Funnily enough, I disliked Akúa so much that, by contrast, even Tamika, someone who is homophobic and seemingly pro-British, appealed to me. The narrative introduces a forced sexual awakening subplot, diverting attention from the sisters' dynamic and Bryson's character, who ultimately serves as a plot device and the catalyst for Akúa's journey. Akúa's love interest is portrayed in a rather objectifying way, and I wish that she had not been so quickly reduced to serve the role of ‘escape’ for Akúa.
The dialogues follow a repetitive pattern, with Character A, usually Akúa, initiating uncomfortable discussions, and Character B refusing to engage in said discussion, so they flat-out ignore A's line of questioning (usually it's the one question being repeated ad nauseam) and talk about something else, but A keeps on prodding, so B is shouting over A, and A just doesn't get why B doesn't want to talk about 'real' things, leading to verbal and sometimes physical altercations.
And of course, we also get flashbacks chapters, where we are introduced to two characters devoid of clear personalities (beyond being racist). Akúa meets them on the first day of school, and, wouldn’t you know, they end up becoming BFFs. The inclusion of a half-heartedly portrayed girlfriend character adds little to the narrative. These flashbacks felt like missed opportunities to delve into Akúa's home life and her relationships with her father and brother.
Cooke’s repetitive writing style was almost as aggravating as Akúa’s character. Repetition can be effective, but here it felt ‘right’ only in one or two instances (i’m thinking of that scene where Akúa is at the airport, or the one taking place in the market). In almost every other instance, Cooke’s use of repetition felt distracting, gimmicky even.
I will say that Cooke’s attempts at creating a cinematic atmosphere are for the most part successful, and the novel’s biggest strength lies in its strong sense of place. Also, while I was clearly not a fan of the novel's execution, I did appreciate the themes that the story had set out to explore (from akúa’s alienation and dislocation to her frustration towards traditional & heteronormative notions of femininity and propriety).
I can think of several titles that that delve into the complex dynamics between sisters—Yolk by Mary H.K. Choi, Sunset by Jessie Cave, Caucasia by Danzy Senna, The Star Side of Bird Hill by Naomi Jackson, Butter Honey Pig Bread by Francesca Ekwuyasi—or that feature characters journeying someplace in the hopes of reconciling themselves with their pasts—All the Water I’ve Seen Is Running by Elias Rodriques—or perhaps as a means of escape—The Human Zoo by Sabina Murray—and I'm afraid that compared to those, Broughtupsy just did not make the cut.
The review above is very much subjective, so if you are interested in this novel, I suggest you check out some more positive reviews out.