My goodness, Tayari Jones, does it again. Kin reads like sitting in your living room with two women who have lived the hard, beautiful edges of life—telling you everything, little by little, in their own voices. That intimacy is the novel’s heartbeat.
The story follows Vernice and Annie Kay, childhood friends from a small Louisiana town who bond over being motherless and growing up with relatives. Vernice’s mother was tragically killed, and Annie Kay’s mother becomes almost a mystical presence that Annie spends her life trying to find in unexpected ways. The girls leave home and head to Spelman/Atlanta and Memphis, shape their young adulthood, and we follow them as they become women whose lives diverge and, later, converge around grief, memory, and what it means to be kin.
If you care about place—about Atlanta, the South, the real textures of Black life—this novel is intoxicating. The writing is rich with promise, and the sense that the author has lived, studied, or deeply knows the places she invokes makes everything feel real. Reading on a business trip in Memphis, staying at the Peabody Hotel, as an Atlanta resident who’d spent time in Louisiana, the scenes leapt off the page. Historic Black Atlanta, the echoes of Cascade, Auburn Ave, Spelman’s campus, downtown Atlanta, Venetian Hills, felt less like fiction and more like memories or an invitation to actually go see. That specificity is rare and thrilling.
You can almost feel the layers of research and lived experience in every description. The friendships, the schools, the neighborhoods: Jones uses them not just as backdrop but as characters themselves, shaping choices, loyalties, and futures. As the story unfolds, the emotional stakes rise, and the bond between Vernice and Annie Kay keeps the narrative taut even when their paths run far apart.
If I have one critique from reading an ARC, it’s that one central plot point felt unresolved, perhaps a function of advance material, perhaps by design. I will follow up on the book publication to be sure. It didn’t diminish my overall love for the book, but it did leave me wanting just a little more closure in one thread. Aside from that, everything else is so compelling, so alive, that it barely mattered. For me, Kin is probably the best book I’ve read this year.
If you want historical fiction that feels true, urgent, and inspired by the kinds of real stories that could have happened, or did, this is it. It’s a novel that invites you into a world, makes you care fiercely about its people, and leaves you thinking about what binds us to one another long after the last page.
Thank you to the Publisher and NetGalley for a Digital ARC of this title.