Dèy

by Edwidge Danticat

From the bestselling author of Everything Inside comes a vivid, timely story, moving from Haiti to Brooklyn to Miami, of a woman whose sense of self and family are called into question when she gets caught in a random act of violence one sunny Florida day.

“Is home the place where we are born? Or is it the place where we die?” These questions haunt Magnolia, a successful Haitian American real estate agent in Miami, after she hears the terrifying sounds of gunfire while shopping for her daughter’s first-ever cellphone; she takes shelter in a restaurant called Oasis, cowering with fellow shoppers and diners, each praying to their respective gods.

Once she’s safely home, Magnolia hides the fact that she was at the mall shooting from everyone close to her. But given her life back, she begins to see it all clearly, and as if for the first time—what the extraordinary bond she has with her daughter, Zoë, really means to her, and what Zoë may feel in return; what the nearly broken relationship she has with her partner, Harrison, has cost her, despite his love for her and their daughter; why her mentally troubled mother—whose unraveling patterns Magnolia worries she’s spiraling toward herself—might be so ghost-haunted; what the source of her father’s pain, and his reason for seeking solace in the arms of a mistress, really is. As Magnolia struggles through the labyrinth of her past, she must also come to terms with the losses sustained that traumatic day, losses that we all bear witness to all too often in our troubling times.

Can love, can family protect us from harm? Does optimism or fear win out in one’s heart, one’s soul? Which side will win out for Magnolia—and where does she really belong? Pulled between these questions, and her beloved, high-stakes choices and worlds—Miami or Haiti, single or married, mortal or ghost, before or after—Magnolia is one of the most compelling characters that Danticat has ever created—a narrator who is “yon pati koukouy, part firefly”: shimmering, flitting between choices, drawn to the light yet emitting their own.

Taking its title for the Creole word for mourning, Dèy is a profoundly warm and moving novel about the importance of sharing grief and leave-taking, but also of the ties of family—takeout dinners around a table, fresh dirt on a plant’s roots in the garden, swimming together in the azure seas. As Magnolia questions whether all has not yet been lost, Dèy celebrates the complexity of life in a brave and striking novel that is one of Danticat’s most powerful and deeply affecting works yet, told with a signature “unfaltering voice and evocative beauty” (The Boston Globe).

Genres: Fiction, Literary Fiction, Contemporary, Adult Fiction, Novels, Literature, Adult

236 pages, Kindle Edition

First published August 25, 2026

About the author

Edwidge Danticat is a Haitian American novelist and short story writer. Her first novel, Breath, Eyes, Memory, was published in 1994 and went on to become an Oprah's Book Club selection. Danticat has since written or edited several books and has been the recipient of many awards and honors. Her work has dealt with themes of national identity, mother-daughter relationships, and diasporic politics. In 2023, she was named the Wun Tsun Tam Mellon Professor of the Humanities in the department of African American and African Diaspora Studies at Columbia University.

Reviews

[Ron Charles · Rating 4 out of 5]

While I read Edwidge Danticat’s new novel about gun violence, six members of a family died by gunfire in Winfield, Kansas; another five were massacred near Lake City, Michigan.

It’s unlikely you heard much about these shootings. Held captive by the Supreme Court’s misreading of the Constitution and the deadly influence of the gun lobby, Americans routinely suffer such carnage. While thoughts and prayers are exchanged for campaign donations, politicians admonish mourners not to politicize the latest gun tragedy.

Indeed, so successful has that campaign been that even this mention of recent attacks and my brief characterization of our political impotence feel slightly hysterical, almost in bad taste. Enough with your editorial — get to the book!

Danticat must feel the same fury at this daily slaughter, but her novel Dèy is a gracious exercise in restraint, a story fueled by the tempered outrage that runs through so much of her fiction and nonfiction. She bears witness and, by the extraordinary empathy of her prose, makes us witnesses, too.

The first three of Dèy’s four sections are titled “Run,” “Hide,” and “F(l)ight,” a grim allusion to the advice American schoolchildren receive during active-shooter drills. The novel opens in early 2018, mid-rampage: “I dive to the restaurant floor as gunfire rips the air outside.” The narrator, a real estate agent named Magnolia, is shopping for her daughter’s birthday present at a mall when blasts echo through the building.

“Is this a mass grave?” asks a man sobbing next to her on the floor.

“Where else is left to run to now?” Magnolia wonders — a question that refers as much to the top floor of the Miami shopping mall as to this trapped nation.

But then sirens approach....

You can read the rest of this review for free on Substack:
https://roncharles.substack.com/p/the...

[Mirae · Rating 5 out of 5]

I LOVE this book! I want to call everyone I know and sing its praises, but this review seems like the best place to start.

The first page is stunning and draws you in immediately. It introduces you to the main character, Magnolia, at a shopping mall in Miami, Florida. Magnolia is of Haitian descent, and much of the book takes place in the Little Haiti neighborhood there. Her mall experience kept me turning the pages, as it could happen to any of us here in America.

The first chapter is gripping, and the rest of the story unfolds around it as Magnolia returns home and attempts to keep her mall experience a secret. We meet her extended family throughout. They did not feel like characters in a book to me; they felt like people I know. Her 10-year-old daughter Zoe and her partner Harrison ground her while she struggles to cope with what happened. Slowly, Magnolia’s secret comes out and her family’s responses help her process her own and other community members’ experiences in the mall that day.

The author makes brilliantly incisive observations about the parallels between modern American and Haitian events and culture. However, these take a backseat to the warmth of her family and the poignance of their origin stories and immigration experiences.

I hope Oprah chooses this novel for her book club: it deserves not only a wide and diverse exposure, but several book awards, perhaps a Pulitzer. Yes, it’s THAT good.

Many, many thanks to NetGalley for the arc!

[Bobbieshiann · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is the before and then there is the after, but the audience never truly sits in the depth of the after when it is not theirs to endure. In Dèy by Edwidge Danticat, we watch the before and after merge as Magnolia finds herself at the center of a mall shooting, crouched inside the restaurant Oasis with survival training tampered by fear and the unknown lingering. Magnolia survives, but something in her does not leave that mall untouched. Grief and suppression follow as she keeps the shooting a secret and carries on being a mother, daughter, sister, employee, and spouse, although separated.

Dèy is at its own pace as Magnolia eventually faces all that she has bottled up, but it is not just mourning the lives lost or how close to death she was. It is the stages of grief she endures without guidance or support because pretending all is fine seems easier. While selling real estate and navigating coparenting, she is also on edge as her aging parents remain in Haiti, her mother is deteriorating, and violence threatens everything they have built. Magnolia is surviving something in America while worrying about whether her family will survive something else in Haiti. Violence looks different in both places, but the fear of how quickly life can change remains the same.

While immersed in her day-to-day life, Magnolia retells moments that show the intertwining relationships of the important people in her life. We hear about gentrification, another shooting, immigration, displacement, motherhood, family, and what it means to call somewhere home when safety is never guaranteed. Even Magnolia’s career in real estate carries its own irony as she sells others the idea of home while trying to understand what home means for herself.

Magnolia is so human that it’s 70% in when she realizes the weight of the shooting, the real effects it has had on her, and begins to question, why not her? How is she alive when, during her encounter with the shooter, he lets her be, and right after comes chaos, shots, screams, and a stampede? Survival leaves questions, guilt, and the realization that being spared does not mean walking away unaffected.

For a while, I was so immersed in Magnolia’s life that I forgot about the shooting, almost as if I were reading two different books. But that is how deeply she suppressed it. Suppression is the act of stopping, holding back, or preventing something from being seen. This is Magnolia. She works, parents, worries about her family, navigates separation, remembers, distracts herself, and continues. Yet underneath it all is something she refuses to give language to until her mind and body begin remembering what she tries to bury.

That is where the title Dèy, meaning mourning, carries even more weight. Magnolia’s grief is not attached to one death or event. She mourns the lives lost, her sense of safety, the possibility of losing her parents, pieces of her relationship with her spouse, and the version of herself that existed before she crouched inside Oasis wondering if she would survive. The sections Run?, Hide, F(l)ight, and Dèy reflect this as she runs from what happened, hides it from those closest to her, fights to maintain her life, and eventually has to mourn.

Danticat does not make grief exist in isolation. Dèy shows how life continues right beside devastation. Children still need their parents. Aging parents still need their children. Relationships remain complicated. Work continues. The world does not stop because something inside of you did. Magnolia’s silence allows her to function, but functioning and healing are not the same. Sometimes the after does not announce itself immediately. Sometimes it quietly follows you until you can no longer pretend you are still living in the before.

[Azvelyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you NetGalley for this ARC.

Sometimes a book doesn’t need to be loud to leave an impression.

As a Haitian American, reading Dèy by Edwidge Danticat felt especially meaningful. She has always had such a beautiful way with words, and once again her storytelling shines. Magnolia’s journey through grief—in all its complicated, messy forms—felt honest and deeply human. Watching her navigate so much loss and trauma made for an emotional read.

My only wish? I wanted more of Magnolia and Harrison. I would’ve loved to better understand what truly went wrong between them and spend more time with what reconciliation looked like on the page.

Overall, this is a thoughtful, moving novel that reminds you why Edwidge Danticat is such a gifted storyteller.

[Tiffany · Rating 5 out of 5]

Edwidge Danticat is back with her latest book, Dèy, after nearly ten years. She graces her readers with another wonderfully written, poignant, and deeply moving book. I absolutely loved this phenomenal, heartfelt story. The very first page of the book pulled me in, the storyline kept me captivated throughout, and didn’t let me go until the end. A huge thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for the eARC of the book.

The premise of Dèy (which means grief or mourning in Haitian culture) follows Magnolia, a Haitian real estate agent living in Miami, Florida. She is out on an ordinary day at the mall shopping for a birthday present for her daughter when a random mass shooting occurs. Returning safely back to the confines of her home from the aftermath of this chaotic, violent attack, Magnolia makes the decision not to share the experience with the people in her life. But as she navigates through her trauma and fear of her near-death experience, it opens her eyes to memories that help her genuinely recognize the relationships that surround her.
The deep bond with her 10-year-old daughter, Zoe; her fractured relationship with Harrison, her partner, and Zoe’s father; the emotional attachment to her aging mother who is battling with dementia; the discovery of her own father’s betrayal; and the half-brother she never knew. All of these relationships have Magnolia contemplating big questions about life, death, home, and where exactly is her place. She wants to understand the truth behind what it means to be loved and loving other people. As her secret finally emerges about the mall shooting, the reactions and responses from those that know and love Magnolia, her family eventually helps her to not only process her own lived experience but to also heal.

Dèy is an elaborately woven, uniquely structured, character-driven story that explores the complexities of grief, joy, the cultural connection of community and traditions, healing, the resiliency of love and family. The beauty of this book is completely immeasurable and should be on every reading list.

[Elena L. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Magnolia is a Haitian American real estate agent who is at the mall to buy her daughter's gift when she witnesses a mall shooting.

As Magnolia navigates loss, the story exposes the way trauma affects her and those around her, from her community to her parents to her immediate family. Blending introspection with sharp observations, Danticat allows one to have a closer look into the Haitian culture and community, exploring immigration and assimilation of people who have their own dream and, who do the best they can in an unfamiliar country and amidst political unrest and violence.

I appreciate the way Danticat siphons the complexity of relationships inside a family, marriage and between mother and daughter. It's done with a dose of tenderness that feels deeply human, that conveys the details of struggles and their connection to the heritage. The sea turtle metaphor touched me and in short, this is a family drama that, even with its slow moments, is not overly dramatic.

I think Dèy is very Haitian and quite vulnerable. A book that is an act of remembrance for us and resistance from them.

[ I received a complimentary copy from the publisher - Knopf publishing . All opinions are my own ]

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 4 out of 5]

The pall, a replacement for a baptismal garment, is, in this case, the red-and-blue flag of the country that Jonathan, like so many here, have fled. “He was driven away by fear of death, only to meet death head-on,” one of the Haitian-American politicians declares. She ends her speech by saying, “Li devan,” meaning that Jonathan Augustin had simply traveled ahead. My parents and Tante Odile would say this whenever they heard that someone had died. Li devan. Nou dèyè. He went ahead. We’re right behind.

I first came across this book – when Bookstagram’s brilliant couple, Bernie Lombardi and Christopher Metts delighted each other by both independently making it one of their first Booker longlist predictions – a prediction which did not come true but with their enthusiasm nevertheless infectious.

The Haitian-American author – unknown to me I have to say – has a great record in two of the largest American literary prizes and across a variety of genres.

This is her fifth novel but she has also written two short story collections – the first of which “Krik? Krak!” was a 1995 US National Book Award Finalist, as in 2007 was the second “Brother I’m Dying” which went on to win the National Book Critics Circle Award (from a Finalist List including Ben Lerner, Colson Whitehead and Valeria Luiselli). Her third novel (a connected set of short stories) “The Dew Breaker” won the 2005 Anisfield-Wolf Book Award and her fourth “Claire of the Sea Light” was shortlisted for the Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellent in Fiction. And her Family Memoir “Brother, I’m Dying” won the National Book Critics Circle Award for Non-Fiction and was a National Book Award finalist.

The novel opens in the midst of a shooting in a Miami shopping mall – as Magnolia (a first generation Haitian American real estate agent) shelters in a diner thinking about the “run, hide, fight” active shooter mantra (which with the third changed to f(l)ight gives the novel its first three sections before the titular fourth (the creole word for mourning).

Magnolia survives and walks out of the mall without challenge – taking a quick decision to keep her involvement in the incident from those closest to her: which include: her young daughter Zoë; Zoë’s father Harrison (from whom she is having something of a trial separation); her mother who has suffered for years with mental health and who is now suffering with suspected appendicitis; her father who having worked as a bus driver when he first moved to America is now back in Haiti having sold the family farm to build a large home, but who is increasingly conscious of the gang warfare racking his country; her stepbrother – from an affair of her father, now looking after her mother; Caroline her boss and Harrison’s cousin.

And the novel really concentrates on three elements: Magnolia’s re-evaluation of each of those relationships in light of her near death; a clear analogy between the violence in Haiti which the dispora fled to escape and the violence they have found in America; Magnolia’s increasing PTSD from the event and her following of the stories of the victims.

All told in lively language (further embellished with a generous sprinkling of creole) but with a cast (particularly of colleagues and extended families) I must admit I found a little bewildering, particularly when combined with some unfamiliar American cultural references. And further its two main integrated themes are American mass shooting culture (something which to readers in almost every other country is entirely alien) and the Haitian diaspora in US (not really a prominent immigrant culture in the UK).

So I have to say that while I enjoyed this novel well enough I did feel that it would not really have been a suitable Booker longlistee (especially this year where the judges seemed not to have succumbed to the US-centricity of many recent UK prize lists) but will I think be a contender for the two US prizes again.

My thanks to Qercus Books for an ARC via NetGalley

[Bam cooks the books · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dèy means mourning in Haitian Kreyòl and this novel shines a spotlight on the woes of our society: the hatred, the racism, the violence, and the aftermath.

Magnolia was born in Haiti, raised in Brooklyn and now lives and works as a real estate agent in the Little Haiti neighborhood of Miami. She and her partner, Harrison, have a daughter named Zoë, but she has recently asked him to move out of their home and they share custody of Zoë.

On a sweltering January day in 2018, Magnolia heads to the mall to buy a cell phone for Zoë's tenth birthday. She eats a hot dog in the food court and is heading up the escalator to the next level when suddenly a man opens fire in the court with an automatic rifle. The panicked people run and take cover in the restaurant at the top of the escalator. It is a moment of great terror. Before the gunman is stopped, several people are killed and wounded but there are many acts of heroism that day that save even more lives.

The authorities eventually come to guide the people in the restaurant down a back way to the parking lot. Magnolia is quite shaken by the whole experience but decides to lie when her family and friends ask if she was at the mall. But it haunts her thoughts and she keeps a close eye on the news reports to learn everything she can about the victims, shooter and heroes.

Almost at the same time, Magnolia's mother is taken to the hospital for emergency surgery to remove her appendix. Her parents have built a beautiful home in Haiti but the area has become quite dangerous with gang violence. Magnolia talks her parents into coming to Miami once her mother is able to travel.

And unfortunately there are two separate school shootings in the news so Zoë and the children of her school have to be taught what to do in such situations. The title sections of the book reflect these lessons: Run? Hide. F(l)ight. Dèy (mourn). The children are provided with counselors to help process their fears and emotions.

But the story is not just about violence, death and grief. It's about family, friends and loving relationships. Harrison has asked Magnolia to marry him every year since Zoë's birth--maybe this will be the year she finally says yes. She is fortunate enough to be surrounded by a community of family and friends who are very supportive and eventually she confesses that she was at the mall that terrible day and she finds herself showered with love and support so she can finally process her own grief.

The question is asked: 'Is home the place where we are born? Or is it the place where we die? We are seeds in one soil. And weeds in another.' Meaning, I believe, a place where we are not wanted, like so many immigrants are treated nowadays. A timely story for this age.

Many thanks to the author and publisher for providing me with an arc of this novel via NetGalley. This was my 100th book and review for 2026!

[j ✩ · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you Knopf x NetGalley for the e-ARC.

The writing itself is pretty straightforward, as expected, but it turns lyrical in certain parts, especially when the main character's present connects back to her memories as a young girl in Haiti.

I really enjoyed the dynamic between her and her family, both in America and home in Haiti. She's caught between two worlds, and that push and pull felt really real. Being part of the diaspora comes with a lot of responsibility that people don't always talk about, like sending remittances back home. That's such a specific burden, and I appreciated that the book didn't skip over it, because it plays a key part in shaping how she thinks and moves through the world. It questions.

I also liked watching her slowly push back against the roles everyone expects her to play, like the fixer, the provider, the one who has it all together. It's a raw struggle, both within herself and in her relationships. But you could also see the warmth of the support around her, and that part was really nice to see. And her relationship with her daughter was probably my favorite part of the whole book — a child as a beacon of hope, who doesn't love to see a message like that?

This book also deals with some really sensitive material, and I think that's part of what makes it feel so honest.

It's the reality for a lot of people. How does someone navigate building a new life while still carrying pieces of an old one? How do you come to terms with something traumatic, something that reshapes how you see everything after it happens? And how do you navigate yourself and your family at the same time, is there room for both to grow together, or does one have to be sacrificed for the other? The book also makes a really strong point about how trauma lives in the body, not just the mind. It's a reminder that healing is also about learning to live in a body that remembers.

The lyrical writing I loved in certain sections made me wish it showed up more consistently throughout, because the more straightforward parts sometimes felt flat by comparison. And while the main character's interior world is so fully realized, some of the people around her felt more like symbols than fully fleshed-out people.

As an additional note, I like other inclusion of little snippets of the culture and demographics in Florida. Florida is massive and we house so many communities here, especially down South, so it was a nice touch.

This is for anyone who enjoys family-centered literary fiction dealing with grief, diaspora identity, and generational ties. Or, if you're interested in a story about trauma processing and relationship between mother and her daughter, and its ever presenting complexities.

[Sara Everett · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dèy by Edwidge Danticat is set in 2018 and takes place over a few weeks' time, starting with a mass shooting at a mall in late January and ending on the main character's (Magnolia's) 33rd birthday, February 17, 2018. The story is rich with the past as well because Magnolia, who is a grounded and reliable first person narrator, reflects often on her own memories, important dates, news events, and old family stories. The time periods and places covered by her memory are expansive.

After a nail-biting first chapter, Dèy settles into an eerily quiet and placid novel, adopting a tone that's like silence after a storm. The novels stillness reflects the shocked mental state of its main character, a 32-year-old Miami real-estate agent and it becomes a story about Magnolia finding her peace again.

Vertical imagery is something Danticat turns to repeatedly in the novel: clouds, caves, escalators, high-rise real estate. Even Magnolia's namesake, the Magnolia tree, ties her into all the novel's vertical imagery. Like a tree, she's connected to what's above ground and under it. In fact, all of the novel's high and low vertical imagery is within her reach. Her mind branches into the sky with the cavum clouds and chem trails and roots down deep in the ground with the caves that fascinate her partner. Magnolia is a firmly planted person, but she's also stuck figuring out if she can thrive where she is after this shooting.

Water and photography are my favorite motifs in the novel. For me, the deliberate and intricate photography motif was soothing, a reminder of the power of the art form and of photographic artifacts. I didn't realize how much I needed to escape into a wholesome photography theme in a novel until I read this. With photography in my real life so rife with generative AI, it's good to sit with photography in a novel that's so real and pivotal and a bit sacred.

Dëy can be read like a slow-release medicine, taken down all at once but allowed to react slowly and incrementally within the reader. It is a novel that, for me, was truly full of Toni Morrison's concept of invisible ink. I think Danticat wants readers to look for the invisible, and that inkling comes from how she wrote Magnolia's partner. His proclivities and priorities read like an invitation (and a clue!) to look at Dèy deeply because he is a character that finds what's under the surface of things. He researches caves, which are full of secrets and never-before-seen things. He pursues knowing what lies deep inside his partner's heart just as fervently too. Even though I don't really need assurance to read a text written by Edwidge Danticat deeply, his character was a lovely nudging, metaphor that doing so would reveal some wonders.

[Jazisunray Skillern · Rating 5 out of 5]

Magnolia, a Haitian American real estate agent in Miami, navigates the aftermath of a traumatic shooting at a shopping mall. In the days that follow, Magnolia’s life unfurls with remarkable emotional clarity, revealing the intricate ties binding her to her daughter, Zoë; to the fractured love with Zoë’s father; to her own mother’s unraveling mental health; and to the shadow cast by her father’s secret second family.

The author masterfully captures the complexities of family—its love, its secrets, its wounds—while exploring the perpetual tension between the past and present, Miami and Haiti, hope and fear. Magnolia’s journey is rendered with tenderness and honesty as she wrestles with sudden and inherited traumas and seeks meaning amid uncertainty. The novel’s prose is luminous and evocative, shimmering with the hope and pain of a woman caught between worlds—“yon pati koukouy, part firefly”—always seeking, always illuminating.

What makes this book truly special is its unflinching gaze at questions of belonging, resilience, and the limits of love. The narrative’s exploration of intergenerational trauma, cultural identity, and the fragile thread between optimism and fear is both timely and timeless. Magnolia is a narrator you will not soon forget—her voice haunted yet fiercely alive, her choices urgent and deeply human.

This is a novel that lingers, reminding us that home is not merely a place, but a journey—one that is as much about what we carry within as the ground beneath our feet. A powerful, beautifully written story that will resonate long after the final page.

Thank you, Edwidge Danticat, NetGalley, and Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor, for this ARC.

[Latoya (jamaicangirlreads) · Rating 5 out of 5]

This will not be breaking news to anyone familiar with Edwidge Danticat's work but its worth repeating over and over that she creates masterpieces with her pen! And her latest release, Dèy, is no different. Danticat's familiar storytelling that pulls you right into these characters lives and leave you wanting more at the turn of the last page, is back!

The story is set between Haiti and Florida as we follow Magnolia, her husband Harrison, their daughter Zoe and their large Hatian American family as they navigate a traumatic event that Magnolia experienced that seemed to shift her perspective and appreciation for life. Magnolia doesn't immediately share what she's experienced and while this might infuriate readers as the story moves along and you realize how this burden is affecting her, I can understand how her survival depended on her dissociating from the event as a means to cope.

Edwidge delicately yet bluntly explores so much here; the harsh realities faced by Haitian citizens that places their lives in jeopardy but never letting them waver from their love of home and culture, the way life or death events can allow one to fully understand how fleeting life is.

She talks about the politics around gun control and politicians who serve selfishly, inconsiderate of the impact gun accessibility has on human lives, we dive into marriage and family and the tough choices that people are sometimes forced to make to save themselves and the ones they love.  Magnolia and Harrison's marital arrangements are unique and seems to work for them but so much is left unsaid about why they ended up how they did.

Mental health is explored in detail in this story and Manman and Papa's journey will leave you with compassion where you didn't think any was left. They are love in action. Edwidge has left us here with a stunning work of art replicating life in current times but hang on till the very end, because one thing she's always going leave you with in her stories, is hope.

[Jennifer · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dèy is one of those books that feels heavier emotionally than it does plot-wise. This isn’t a fast-paced or dramatic story—it’s quiet, reflective, and deeply rooted in grief, family, identity, and survival.

What stayed with me most was the atmosphere and emotional weight behind Magnolia’s story. After surviving a random act of violence, she begins looking at every part of her life differently: her relationship with her daughter, her partner, her parents, and even her connection to Haiti and Miami. The novel really explores how trauma can crack open things we’ve been avoiding for years.

Edwidge Danticat’s writing is undeniably beautiful. There are passages in this book that almost read like poetry, especially when she writes about mourning, memory, and family history. You can feel the love, fear, guilt, and generational pain woven through every relationship.

For me personally, the pacing was slower than what I usually gravitate toward, and I struggled at times to feel fully connected to Magnolia emotionally. The story leans heavily into introspection and atmosphere over action, so it requires patience and the right mindset going in.

Still, I appreciated what this book was trying to say about grief, identity, motherhood, and the idea of home. It’s thoughtful, emotional, and very human.

I’d give it 3 stars. While it wasn’t completely my style as a reader, I can absolutely appreciate the beauty of the writing and the emotional depth behind it.

[readandtellwithshantel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Déy
Edwidge Danticat

Devastation comes in many forms and sometimes we believe the absence of outward expression will protect us. Magnolia is relatable in that way.

She has the weight of life on her shoulders. It’s as if she’s in a constant state of mourning as the title would suggest. She’s mourning both the life she has and the life she could have had.

She tarries with her internal emotional audit to the point of fatigue. Being the daughter of immigrants, she has benefited from her parents sacrifices. Sadly, there is no assuagement from catastrophe. No moments of full peace. Even in the presence of bliss, there is an undercurrent of dolor waiting to be identified. There is no place that’s completely safe.

On the topic of gun violence the frequency of mass shootings have sadly become a norm. When once America was seen as a land of milk and honey, and prosperous in boundless opportunity is now something different. In a moment that reality can be replaced with something nightmarish.

Magnolia’s story is the primary focus, but the novel is open in a way that tells the stories of many. Even from the point of view from her professional side there is an abundance of richness in that unearthing.

This is a story that examines displacement on a variety of levels. Whether it be physically or internally, the unfurling of those layers require space and time to process.

#readandtellwithshantel #Dèy #EdwidgeDaticat #netgalley

4.5

[Alison · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dèy is a Creole word that means "mourning together." In this gorgeous and thought-provoking novel, Edwidge Danticat explores how silently carrying grief can unravel relationships and the bonds of family. After surviving a shooting in a shopping mall, Magnolia keeps her experience a secret from her friends and family. As she moves through the weeks that follow, she's forced to reckon with a strained partnership, a fraying bond with her own mother, old family wounds tied to her father, and the deep, ongoing pull between the life she's built in Miami and the one she left behind in Haiti. Moving fluidly between past and present, this story looks at trauma through a unique and powerful lens.

Haitian Creole language is woven throughout the story which made for an immersive reading experience, especially as narrated in the audiobook by Melinda Sewak. The opening chapter of this book describing the mall shooting is especially gripping and pulled me in immediately, but beware that some readers may find it triggering. Magnolia's suffering is palpable in the writing, and the dynamics of her family were touching.

The theme of grief is often explored in books, but this take on the emotion felt different. Paired with Danticat's beautiful writing and the Haitian culture woven throughout, this is definitely a story worth experiencing. I strongly recommend the audio for the full exposure to the language.

[Leslie Oberhaus · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dey is an understated, moving novel following Magnolia, a Haitian American woman living Miami. While at the mall to buy her daughter's birthday present, Magnolia is swept up in a mass shooting incident. We experience what she experiences while sheltering in place and then follow her as she tries to resume her normal life without letting anyone know that she lived through this harrowing incident. Magnolia jumps back into her job as a real estate agent and her relationships (with her daughter, the husband from whom she is separated, coworkers and friends). Her day to day also involves trying to stay connected with her parents, who have returned to live in Haiti.

The story is a nice blend of character driven and plot driven and the characters are vivid. Magnolia's father and half brother especially feel real even though most of what we hear from them is via spotty phone calls. While suffering from and trying to hide the effects of trauma from the mass shooting, Magnolia navigates a health scare for her mom, her feelings for her husband, work, and the emotions of watching her daughter grow into a preteen. The word "dey" means "mourning" in Haitian Kreyol, and this is a fitting title for the journey Magnolia takes in the story. Dey is as much about family and home as it is about PTSD and grief. It's a story that will stick with you.

I received a complimentary digital copy of this book, and I'm leaving my review voluntarily. All views are my own.

[Christie P · Rating 4 out of 5]

As with all of her books, Edwidge Danticat has a way of gently pulling you into the lives of Haitians, both in their homeland and living in the U.S. in a way that feels immersive. I've always appreciated how she captures the daily lives of Haitians (and immigrants) in such an authentic way that few others have done.

Dèy felt like this, I felt like Ma could've been a good friend or neighbor. I felt like I could've known any of the people in this book. While Dèy felt like a short read, it felt very comprehensive in a way. The story starts with an incident that's all too common and has happened far too many times over the last decade, but the way she lays out the ripple effects of this incident to the main character and other people involved is something I haven't read in any other books on the subject. It exposes you to what happens before, during, and after an incident of this magnitude. What happens to the people involved, the families, and how life (and the world) goes on in ways we probably don't even consider. With themes of grief, trauma, mortality, family dynamics, and immigration; again this seems like a lot to cover in such a short book; but Edwidge managed to do so in such a way that it was not overwhelming and it all flowed together seamlessly. I enjoyed Dèy and having lived this experience (twice) myself, I think this one will be with me for a while.

[Raymonde · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thank you NetGalley and Knopf publishing for the ARC of Dèy by Edwidge Danticat.
Release Day: 8/25/26
Rating: 5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Edwidge Danticat did it again! 🇭🇹❤️ Dèy is a beautiful and emotional story about grief, trauma, family, belonging, love, and healing.

As a Haitian American, so much of this book felt personal to me. The Creole sprinkled throughout, the complicated family dynamics, immigration, classism, food, and vivid descriptions of Haiti brought back memories and reminded me of people and experiences from my own life. This is what I love about Danticat’s writing: her characters and stories feel incredibly real.

I especially loved how food was woven throughout the story as a symbol of love, culture, comfort, and togetherness. I also appreciated the exploration of mental health and the different ways people carry grief and trauma.

I even learned something new! I speak Creole and never knew Dèy means grief. What a fitting title for a story that reminds us that healing doesn’t mean our grief disappears. Sometimes we learn how to carry it while still allowing ourselves to live, love, and feel like we belong.

Ultimately, Dèy felt like a beautiful love letter to Haiti, Haitian culture, food, family, and all of their imperfections. 🇭🇹❤️📚

An emotional and meaningful 5-star read!

[Diane Payne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Danticat obviously felt compelled to address gun violence in America, and I am glad she did. In the past, she has written about violence in Haiti, but in this novel, she focuses on the gun violence our main character, Magnolia, a mother who experiences gun violence while at the local mall in Miami. The novel feels more deeply personal than political, as we watch Magnolia not tell her partner or daughter that she was at the mall during this tragic time, and she questions why she keeps this traumatic event to herself as the trauma brings up past traumas and begins to overwhelm her. Magnolia gave birth to her daughter with her partner, a man she remains close with but has chosen to live separately from, while she questions what her life would be like if she was on her own, after being with her partner for years, a man who asks her about marriage throughout their time together. In this short novel, readers learn about her father's affair and other family, her mother's mental illness, watch her daughter experience life with friends, and her partner staying by her side as she navigates through tumultuous times.

[TaleshaReads · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dèy is around 4.25 stars for myself.
This story dives into grief, trauma, and family struggles along with connection. The writing in this is beautiful as well!

This story holds a lot of emotional and reflective moments with our main character Magnolia surviving a mass shooting along with her relationships being strained. Her parents are living in Haiti where the crimes have really impacted their community, along with her mother having dementia. She is not close with her father due to some choices he made, and has been having trouble with wanting to commit to her daughter's dad Harrison because of her personal problems. Harrison is such a sweet and caring character too! I really enjoyed their relationship and the respect they had for each other. The family dynamic in general is great. They are messy, caring, and will at the end of the day take time be there for one another.

The prose is so intentional and so beautifully crafted it makes it hard to stop reading or feeling for the characters. I also love the title! Well worth the read in my opinion!

Thank you Knopf for my advanced reader copy in return for my honest review!

[Em · Rating 4 out of 5]

In Dey, Edwidge Danticat offers a quiet but devastating portrait of what happens after survival. Magnolia escapes a mass shooting at a shopping mall but instead of telling anyone, she returns home carrying the trauma alone. The novel follows her as she drifts further from herself while trying to remain present for her daughter, navigate a crumbling marriage, and care for her aging parents after they leave Haiti for safety.

Danticat understands that trauma is not always loud. Sometimes it looks like showing up, paying the bills, caring for everyone around you, and never speaking of the thing that changed you. As her mother’s condition worsens and the demands of caregiving grow heavier, Magnolia’s unprocessed grief begins to surface in ways she can no longer ignore.

This is a novel about dissociation, responsibility, and the impossible expectation that we simply move on after loss. Danticat reminds us that there is a cost to carrying pain in silence. The body remembers what the mind tries to outrun, and healing requires more than survival.

[RensBookishSpace · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’m an absolute Edwidge Danticat fan, so I went into Day with very high expectations.
The book grabs you immediately. It opens with a shooting at a mall, and our main character, who was there, goes home without telling anyone what happened. From there, we follow the ripple effects of that experience as she moves through her family dynamics, relationships, and the complicated reality of having parents back home in Haiti while the country itself is experiencing turmoil.
And yet, I found myself waiting. Waiting for something else to happen. Waiting for that initial event to lead somewhere bigger. Waiting to understand more about what happened between her and her husband. But for me, that never really came.
The rest of the book is much quieter and more internal, and unfortunately, I never felt fully connected to Magnolia or her story. By the end, I was left feeling like there was still so much I wanted to know, and the story felt unfinished.
This one just didn't hit for me.....and I say that as someone who will absolutely continue picking up anything Danticat writes.

[Jamilah Green | Apothecary Tales Press · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dèy by Edwidge Danticat tells the story of Magnolia, a Haitian immigrant living in Miami, as she tries to balance being a real estate agent, a mother, and a daughter supporting her family. After she survives a mass shooting at her local mall, Magnolia struggles with the trauma and grief that follows. Rather than confronting what happened, she keeps her pain secret and avoids dealing with it.

Danticat's writing is beautiful, thoughtful, and emotional. I quickly became invested in Magnolia's story and found myself rooting for her as she navigated the aftermath of tragedy. The narrative thoughtfully explores the immigrant experience, adding depth to Magnolia's story. At the same time, themes of mortality, family, and resilience made it relatable.

Dèy is a powerful character driven examination of the impact of unaddressed trauma, grief and healing.

ARC provided by Knopf via NetGalley. Thoughts and opinions are my own.

[sarah panic · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was absolutely enraptured from the very first page. As soon as you meet the main character, Magnolia, she is caught in a traumatic experience in a mall. The reader is allowed to feel like this could happen to me, this could happen to any of us. From that point moving forward we are introduced to members of Magnolia's family and friends and the connections made between the neighborhood she lives in here in America in to that back home in Haiti.

I have always been a huge fan of Danticat's writing and have felt drawn to anything I can because they have such a way of weaving words together to elicit of feeling of connection to the reader. There is a way they are able to make you feel that you are fully immersed in every line no matter the distance from the point of location, the subject matter transcends.

Thank you to Netgalley for this advanced copy and I am leaving this review voluntarily.

[BookOfCinz Reading Retreat Host · Rating 3 out of 5]

An exploration of where home is

DEY opens with our main character Magnolia, a successful Haitian American real estate agent in Miami who is at the mall because she is getting her daughter’s birthday gift. While at the mall, she hears gunfire and is caught in a mall shooting that shakes her entire world. After the traumatic experience she goes home and doesn’t tell anyone she was there. As she navigates this traumatic experience, she takes the time to think about her place in the world, her community, her parents, her daughter and family.

I really enjoyed being in Magnolia’s interior world, seeing how she navigates this trauma and what her response is to the world around her. The book was short but its felt a little laborious at times, and other times, it felt like nothing was happening. If I am being honest, I wish the book had a stronger editor, the story was there but it felt unfinished.

As always, I will read anything Edwidge Danticat writes.

[V · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5. I really wish I could give this book a higher rating because there is so much to admire here.

Edwidge Danticat's writing is beautiful and flows effortlessly. The opening chapter is incredibly powerful. It immediately pulled me in and made me deeply invested in Magnolia's life and her unraveling. After that moment, I was hooked and eager to see how the story would unfold.

Unfortunately, as the book progressed, it started to feel increasingly plotless. While the prose remained lovely and flowing, I struggled with some of the cultural references and names I wasn't familiar with, which sometimes pulled me out of the story. And, the scenes involving television interviews and news segments about the shooting felt repetitive and slowed the pace, too.

This is a beautifully written exploration of grief, family, and diaspora, but it didn't fully click with me.

[Liz · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have heard about Edwidge Danticat for years. The writers I love name her with a reverence that borders on devotion. So when I found six of her books in a bookstore sale, I brought them all home. And then I let them sit. And sit.

It took an ARC from NetGalley to finally open the door.

She pulled me in immediately. This story of a Haitian American family named something I have circled for a while: I used to read about countries run by despots, police states, gangs and oligarchs, until I realized this country is not standing as far from that as it likes to think. Pot, meet kettle.

The place you flee to may be only slightly safer than the place you left. Trauma follows you into the room you thought was safe.

The hype is real. 5🌟

[Lyrically Literally · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dèy was my first experience with Edwidge Danticat’s work, and her writing is absolutely beautiful. The story follows Magnolia, a Haitian American woman who survives a mass shooting at a Miami mall but keeps the experience hidden from her family.

This was a heavy, emotional exploration of trauma, PTSD, family, and the contrast between the violence the Haitian diaspora fled and the violence they encounter in America. I also appreciated learning more about Haitian history and culture. I would have loved a little more development between Magnolia and Harrison, and the pacing felt slow at times, but it allowed space for the story’s emotional depth.

This was an intriguing and deeply moving read, and I would definitely pick up more of Danticat’s work.

[Ahaaha4 · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have not read an Edwina Danticat book in a very long time. Her newest novel Dey starts off very powerful. It takes place in Miami. The opening scene is a shooting in a mall that the main character,Magnolia is at. This frightening experience makes her look at life differently.

The book is not an action packed book. It is slower paced. It is a book about home, coping, identity and survival. It is a look at how one event changed the trajectory of a persons life.

I love Danticat’s writing and enjoyed the book. Thank you NetGalley and Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage and Anchor for an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

[D Dyer · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a layered exploration of trauma and the various shades of the immigrant experience. It opens with a mass shooting and expands outward to gentrification and the ways in which second generation immigrants interact with it, waves of violence andThey’re continuing impact on Haiti and the scars of familial mental illness. The writing is restrained and emotionally, impactful while still evoking the tropical and subtropical environments of a Miami and Haiti, in which the book is set. And while movement and change have definitely occurred by the books and we are not left with easy or complete answers.