The Disappearers

by Marlon James

‘Darkness is a mood in Jamaica...'

The Disappearers is Marlon James’s triumphant return to the Jamaica of A Brief History of Seven Killings – a place of heat and chaos, and of danger for anyone outside the heteronormal.

So when eight gay men meet for the first time, in Kingston in 1988, answering the casting call for an openly queer play, they are already taking a big risk. But that is nothing compared to what rains down on them when a mob descends on one of their rehearsals.

By the end of this night, one man is dead, all are injured, and two subsequently disappear.
As the survivors heal, each man finds he must confront the bigotry and homophobia that the attack laid bare. Some try to forget; some embrace their rage; and some simply vanish – but all are forever scarred.

As one of the victims puts it, ‘there’s a difference between when something ends and when something stops’. And this story won’t stop until both the disappearers and the perpetrators have been tracked, along trails both hot and cold, and an ending reached.

Epic and intimate, violent and forgiving, The Disappearers is a tour de force which only Marlon James could have written – both an unflinching portrait of the hatred and shame faced by gay men in a society which refuses to accept them, and a deeply human story of acceptance and insight.

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fiction, LGBT, Queer, Literary Fiction, Historical, Adult

616 pages, Kindle Edition

Expected publication September 1, 2026

About the author

Marlon James is a Jamaican-born writer. He has published three novels: John Crow's Devil (2005), The Book of Night Women (2009) and A Brief History of Seven Killings (2014), winner of the 2015 Man Booker Prize. Now living in Minneapolis, James teaches literature at Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota.

James was born in Kingston, Jamaica, to parents who were both in the Jamaican police: his mother (who gave him his first prose book, a collection of stories by O. Henry) became a detective and his father (from whom James took a love of Shakespeare and Coleridge) a lawyer. James is a 1991 graduate of the University of the West Indies, where he read Language and Literature. He received a master's degree in creative writing from Wilkes University (2006).

James has taught English and creative writing at Macalester College since 2007. His first novel, John Crow's Devil — which was rejected 70 times before being accepted for publication — tells the story of a biblical struggle in a remote Jamaican village in 1957. His second novel, The Book of Night Women, is about a slave woman's revolt in a Jamaican plantation in the early 19th century. His most recent novel, 2014's A Brief History of Seven Killings, explores several decades of Jamaican history and political instability through the perspectives of many narrators. It won the fiction category of the 2015 OCM Bocas Prize for Caribbean Literature and the 2015 Man Booker Prize for Fiction, having been the first book by a Jamaican author ever to be shortlisted. He is the second Caribbean winner of the prize, following Trinidad-born V. S. Naipaul who won in 1971.

(from Wikipedia)

Reviews

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 4 out of 5]

Longlisted for the 2026 Booker Prize

"She will come back as fire! Burn all the liars, leave a blanket of ash on the ground”
Frances Farmer Shall Have Her Revenge on Seattle, by Nirvana

I’m back at the end of James Joyce’s “An Encounter” where the narrator discovers that he always despised his friend a little. We about to do this dance? I ask myself. Where gay people try to be gay in the presence of thine enemies. Except there is no Jamaican Polari, no secret Jamaican gay language. I’m sure there is some battyboy code, but I never hang around any society long enough to learn it, except for the sex stuff because that language is business jargon.

John Rechy’s The Sexual Outlaw, page twenty-eight: The promiscuous homosexual is a sexual revolutionary. There is no point to straight sex other than to breed, since the chances of the man and the woman experiencing the same degree of pleasure is next to nil. There is no point to gay sex other than pleasure, since no pussy has ever impregnated a pussy and no asshole can breed.

Marlon James' The Disappearers is a novel in five parts, a searing and explicit confrontation with the violent homophobia of Jamaica in the period in which it is set.

1. THE PLAY, May 1988
2. THE BLACKJACKS, June 1988
3. THE DISAPPEARERS, April–December 1994
4. THE EXILE AND RETURN, February–December 1999
5. THE NEW WORLD, August 2005

THE PLAY is in the form of a journal written by Eddy Porteous, in his late teens. He is one of 5 men who answer a call, coded to reach the gay community, to act in a play.

The director, financer, state manager and volunteer cast:

Havelock Titus, director, producer, former bon vivant
Omar Joseph, his own boss, millionaire, actor
Clive Lim, stage manager
Jordan Brown, expelled student, actor, boy of slender means
Matt Chin, business executive, actor
Rainford Ellis, office worker, actor
Edmond “Eddy” Porteous, student, actor, second son
Orrin Turner, data systems manager, actor

The play is Havelock's adaption of Fortune and Men's Eyes, by John Herbert (the original's title itself taken from a Shakespeare sonnet).

Eddy's journal leads us through the rehearsals for the play, his own troubled home life, and his kinship but also rivalry with fellow cast member Jordan, the two sharing a love of literature but in Eddy's case a need for apporoval and in Jordan's a competing need to be seen as the smartest in the room.

On one hand I really don’t want to be in a car with Jordan, but on the other hand I really want to be in his car. I want to see how a man who lives in his car lives. It must be freeing or something, a space that can set up knowing that no mother will ever walk in to talk about clothes on the floor and porn in the drawers she’s supposed to stop checking. But honestly there is a part of me that also wants to see what life will be like when my parents finally kick me out of the house and disown their son. I feel it coming. Don’t know if it coming soon, but I feel it coming. Telling myself all sort of shit don’t help, stuff like they’re an uptown family, they won’t throw me out on the street, they’ll ship me off to Miami or New York or somewhere in America, which would only make me happier. I think. They can’t have it come out that they have a son on the street, or that he is a battyboy.

The journal ends with Eddy missing a day of rehearsal, due to family issues, and thereby escaping a violent attack on the company from a homophobic mob, which leaves one man dead and another blinded.

THE BLACKJACKS tells the story of that event from the perspective of the attackers, who are led by rapper Streggeh Don, singer of the homophobe's anthem "Batty is not Pussy." The section is told in a series of vox pops.

Corporal T.
First thing we do, we take our unforms off. Put on clothes that make blackness blacker. Ten phone calls to ten men with ten clubs. Call them the blackjack.

Aaron L.
And we walk in on them all wearing stoosh clothes like they sailing in from one hundred years ago. At first it looks like it’s the costumes that turned around frightened. One looks like Sherlock Holmes. Another looks like he walked out of Oliver Twist—not the TV show on Sunday night but the movie where every minute somebody burst out a song. Good movie but as usual no black people star in it, so I know these battyboys are doing the white man thing. White is the root of all sexual sin, since according to Black Israel it’s sexual sin that birthed the white race in the first place.
And one faggot, the older one in the green jacket, says something that sounds like what a Jeeves the butler would say, but we don’t hear it. And another, the one who looks white but is really yellow, says another thing that also sounds stoosh, and a skinny one (three of them are skinny) drops his wrist and says no no no no no, and another skinny one who looks like Kunta Kinte runs so fast that he runs into another TV show, and yet another one whose skin is shoe polish and whose hair is like young Bob Marley, he look at us and scream. No, not a scream but something a dog says before he bites you. Then he grabs a broomstick.

THE DISAPPEARERS begins in April 1994, on the day of Kurt Cobain's death, and is narrated by Jordan. In the section's present he has a sexual relationship with one of the Blackjacks (who doesn't recognise Jordan), a man who took part in the attack 6 years earlier in an unsucessful attempt to expunge his own homosexual feelings.

Jordan quotes music lyrics to express feelings he cannot articulate is his own words, in particular grunge, referencing various songs from, inter alia, Nirvana, Soundgarden, Hole and the Pixies.

I didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t stay there. So I went down to Kingston Harbor and walked the docks all night. There were two things that were supposed to happen. Some boy so poor that he couldn’t afford a sense of right and wrong would see fresh meat with a wallet attached and beat me to a pulp until it dropped out. Or another kind would see fresh meat with a wallet attached and draw down ’pon me to see how much of that wallet he could lick, suck, or fuck out. Like the R&B song said, I was truly down for whatever. I think what happened was the third thing, would-be robbers, fuckers, and killers saw a mad man screaming “She will come back as fire! Burn all the liars, leave a blanket of ash on the ground” and stayed the fuck away.

I couldn’t believe he left us. I couldn’t believe he left me.
My parents kicked me out to live on the street in 1986 when I was seventeen years old, yet April 8, 1994, was the first time I ever felt alone. That’s not true. I’ve felt alone since I was eight years old and realized that Robert Jackson didn’t like me the way I liked him, but this was the first time it felt like this was something someone did to me.

Jordan also looks back on his and Eddy's attempt to find two of their fellow cast members who vanished after the attack, this part primarily told from interviews given by Jordan in 1993 to a journalist, who also spoke with Eddy in 1992.

THE EXILE AND RETURN is a series of letters written in 1999, from the play's director, Havelock, to an old friend Mark, from his time at Oxford and subsequent post-grad time in London. The 61yo Havelock, back in Jamaica after receiving a cocktail of drugs to combat the AIDS he has lived with for over a decade, looks back on his life including, reluctantly, the events of June 1988,

This goddamn business of getting old though. I, Havelock Titus, submit that those who lose their minds early are luckier because they are no longer aware of a mind to lose. They certainly don’t have to be aware of the constant indignities that come with losing one’s body. Add to that, my friend, what was fact only five years ago: that neither of us were never supposed to die of old age. I’m not even talking about AIDS. I mean that as queers, stately old homos, faggots, (or for some Jamaican flavor) battymen, our life expectancies should have run out at least ten years ago.

I for one thought I would go down blazing, and by “blazing,” darling, I do mean in the most literal sense: with a car tire lassoed around my neck and my bound arms and beaten body set afire by a righteous Jamaican mob. We always thought God had already chose the person who would come to kill us. If not with the mob, then the police. If not the cops, then some boy who will love us, murder us, then tell the police that we grabbed his balls, God is his witness.

The letters are erudite (the first opens with a reference to The Life of Hadrian), although wonderfully one is wriiten in Polari. And we also catch up with the present situation of Jordan and Eddy, each still impacted by events 11years earlier, but in very different ways.

THE NEW WORLD is in two parts, the first a monologuefrim a crazed Jordan, now 36, to Streggeh Doh:

June the 3rd, 1988. That’s when you and your closest friends, you and your anti-faggot gestapo, drop down on we like it was Kristallnacht. Don’t bother, you don’t fucking know what that is. You know which one of us was Omar? From the point you all invite yourselves in, there was no way you was going to leave that house with any trace of the gay. Yow, ever hear about this man named Eminem? White rapper. Famous. Biggest in the world. You would like him. But this bredda, his favorite thing to rap about is how he hate homosexuals. Hate them like how Jesus hate sin. Yet, and this is where you come in, Streggeh, there is more cocksucking and butt fucking goin’ on in his records than any gay porn. My point being that for a bunch of men who can’t stand it, you seem really obsessed with how we fuck. I mean, “Batty Is Not Pussy” is basically a manual on gay sex. You even include foreplay.

And the last part reintroduces us to one of those who went missing.

The novel contains copious explicit depictions of sex and violence, sometimes combined, although given the subject matter this feels integral rather than gratuitous, and it falls short, in both extremeness but also literary impact, of the (in)famous The Part about the Crimes of 2666.

An ambitious work and a powerful if far from pleasant read, and one the judges would have struggled to overlook.

A grunge playlist from the novel

Nirvana - Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle; Radio Friendly Unit Shifter; Territorial Pissings; Come As You Are; Rape Me; and Been a Son as representative of Incesticide, whose sleeve note is referenced
Soundgarden - Superunknown
Hole - Asking For It; Gutless
Young Marble Giants, also Hole - Credit in the Straight World
Pixies - Broken Face
Sonic Youth - Kool Thing and Tunic (Song for Karen) - both as representative songs from Goo, the album cover referenced (James has previously referenced Kool Thing)

The judges' commendation

‘The Disappearers is among Marlon James’s most ambitious and history-making works, a novel that examines territory Caribbean literature has rarely dared to occupy. Beginning in late 1980s Kingston, it follows eight male actors rehearsing what is billed as Jamaica’s first openly gay play. When the men become victims of brutal homophobic violence, the novel shifts register: in the years that follow, one survivor sets out to investigate the fates of the others, and what begins as a theatrical story becomes something closer to a reckoning.

James is a singular literary talent. His dialogue is sharp and propulsive, his phrasing is poetic, visceral and capable of moving from the painful to the darkly hilarious within a single exchange. The Disappearers could be read as a long overdue, clear-eyed confrontation with Jamaican homophobia: unflinching in its honesty, but written with the full complexity and love of someone who knows the place and its contradictions from the inside.’

[Tyler Atwood · Rating 5 out of 5]

A tour de force. I think this is bigger than I have the words for right now. Brutal. Heartbreaking. Completely had me in its grip. As with all of the best door stoppers, I finished it feeling like I needed to come up for air.

[Beth]

I would like to thank Net Galley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

This book had me in a chokehold.

I thought I knew what I was getting myself into. I consumed A Brief History of Seven Killings and I also read Black Leopard, Red Wolf. I thought I knew what to expect. I was wrong. I wish I could have read this book in paperback. I did miss flicking back to the character list in previous books.

I think it does follow a certain formula that Marlon James excels in. There are a string of characters and lots of plotlines going on but with one plotline that is at the heart of the story. You have no idea what's going on for a while until you do. Then, it hits you.

I found this book extremely difficult. I normally binge read a book and found I couldn't do this. Perhaps, this is because I was reading this book at my most busiest, stressful time at work or maybe it was this book. This book haunted me. I thought about it whilst I was doing other things and I craved its return.

The title is so clever.
Have you disappeared if no one misses you?

I am still in a state after the ending. I don't know what else to say but read it.

[Misha · Rating 5 out of 5]

In 1988 Kingston, Jamaica, a mob attacks a group of eight gay men rehearsing a queer play. This horrific act of homophobic violence lies at the heart of the novel as we follow the victims, some of whom disappear literally, others who disappear while remaining very much present, across nearly two decades.

A favourite of 2026 and, I suspect, a favourite of a lifetime. The last sentence of this book made me weep and it left me paralysed with a sense of grief… I ended up reading that sentence again and again. The experience of reading The Disappearers has been difficult difficult difficult in ways I can barely express.

There is the physical violence at the heart of the novel, but there are other forms of violence too - rage, trauma, memory, grief, the loss of self, and the constant fear of merely existing as a self that is socially unacceptable. There is also the violence of what the book evokes beyond its pages, of what queer people are living through right now, especially those with the most marginalised identities. It is difficult to think about the word "happy" in "Happy Pride" while living through fascism.

James's writing is visceral, as always. It gets under your skin in the most uncomfortable ways. Yet the novel is not without joy or hope. Reading it made me want to laugh, then cry, then laugh again, then cry again. It is so jarring, so beautiful, and so tender even in its most brutal moments. The structure, the narrative voices, and the dialogue all work together to create a feeling that shifts between discomfort, exhilaration, and profound grief. It is one of those books I wish I could consume completely, so that some part of it can remain with me forever.

[Liz Hein]

Intense on so many levels

[Amber · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thank you to the publisher for the gifted eARC.

Reading this book is a rollercoaster. I started out thinking it would be a funny book. Then it got dark. Then really violent — to the point where I wanted to stop reading. At one point, it was so intense I genuinely thought about never picking it up again. And then, just when I thought I had settled into it, I was hit with an ending that left me in tears.

And it was so worth it.

Set in 1980s Jamaica, eight men decide to put on the country’s first openly gay play as the country grapples with homophobia. But after a brutal attack, each man is forced to confront his fate, identity, and place in a society that refuses to accept him. Some choose to disappear, some choose to investigate those who disappeared, and one… I’ll leave that surprise for you.

At its core, DISAPPEARERS examines what it means to disappear — in families that reject you, in a country that refuses to see you, and in a society that denies your right to exist.

DISAPPEARERS exposes the violence and cruelty faced by gay men in 1980s/90s Jamaica. James doesn’t shy away from depicting, often in graphic detail, the harm inflicted on the queer community, as well as the ways violence can also emerge within it.

The multiple POVs and shifts in time add depth to the story, showing how class, race, and generation shape how these men understand themselves and each other. (It’ll probably make for an easier reading experience to have a physical copy). The novel also forces the reader to sit with the aftermath of the attack and the different ways each survivor responds to it. James is especially skilled at giving each voice a distinct texture, allowing the reader to fully inhabit each perspective despite the complexity of the narrative structure.

At times, DISAPPEARERS became so emotionally intense that I felt physically ill and had to look away. And that feels entirely deliberate — James’ writing almost dares the reader to keep going.

Because it is so easy to look away. To assume we already know enough. To dismiss it as “unnecessary violence.” To believe we are powerless, and therefore only observers.

But that desire to look away is exactly what the book refuses to allow.

DISAPPEARERS explores guilt, grief, rage, and shame through a layered narrative that demands a lot from its readers. It is a novel that takes time to read, and even more time to sit with. A devastating, passionate work that asks difficult questions about complicity, culpability, and what it means to witness suffering without turning away.

And maybe that’s why I almost wanted to stop reading. Because sometimes the hardest thing a book can ask you to do is keep looking.

I would love to see DISAPPEARERS win the Booker prize, because that’ll encourage more readers to engage with a difficult text like this. (But I think it has more NBA vibes than Booker 😅)

[Rebecca · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was one of the most intense books I’ve read in a long time. It was, at times, a difficult read but also an important and timely one.

Set in Jamaica during the late 1980s and 1990s, The Disappearers begins with a group of gay men rehearsing for a stage play. When a violent mob attacks them, their lives splinter in ways that extend far beyond the physical brutality of that night. What follows is less a story about the attack itself than about its aftermath: grief, guilt, trauma, and revenge. It’s also about the many ways people disappear, whether by force, by fear, or simply by trying to stay alive.

Marlon James refuses to soften any of it. The violence is graphic, the sexual content is explicit, and the emotional weight is constant. This is not a novel interested in making its readers comfortable, and I think that’s entirely the point. James is forcing us to confront a history that has too often been ignored and to witness the devastating effects of hatred and systemic homophobia. The brutality isn’t gratuitous; it’s integral to the story he’s telling.

There were moments that were incredibly powerful, particularly in the way James explores the lingering effects of trauma. I also appreciated the novel’s structure, which gradually reveals what happened from multiple perspectives and shows how one horrific event ripples through so many lives. The title itself takes on multiple meanings as the story unfolds, touching not only on those who literally vanish, but on erased identities, silenced histories, and lives lived in the shadows.

That said, this wasn’t a book I would say enjoyed reading. It was almost unrelentingly intensity, and I often found myself needing to put it down before I was ready to continue. While I admired what James was doing, I struggled to fully connect with the characters amid the sheer heaviness of the material.

However, I have no doubt this book will resonate deeply with many readers, especially those who appreciate literary fiction that asks difficult questions and refuses easy answers. For me though, I respected the novel more than loved it.

[Richard Derus]

LONGLISTED FOR THE 2026 BOOKER PRIZE Shortlist will be announced on September 22.

[Cody · Rating 5 out of 5]

[Thanks to Riverhead Books for the opportunity to read an advance of this novel. I doubt I’ll encounter a better new work in/of 2026.]

It’s hard knowing how much relaying is appropriate when writing advance ‘reviews.’ Hell, I don’t write reviews, really just snapshots of my experience with a book. Call me Wilt, the anti-Bloom.

There’s no way to overstate the breadth of James’ achievement in The Disappearers. Its swoop spans almost twenty years; multiple POVs; recognized forms including dramaturgy, epistolary, journalia, etc., and moves through space-time/perspective-voice as masterfully as anyone that’s ever reached his level of ability. I hope that a million conversations are launched by this novel because, goddamnit, it earns every single one it inspires. Whether those are rooted in a passion of concordance (find me there) or vitriol is immaterial; that people will be inspired to exchange ideas peaceably, however volubly, will be far better than the winning of arguments by brass or bullet.

The frank (‘graphic,’ sure…) and committed chronicling of the sexual misadventures of the all male gay cast of characters is a rare exception of sex working in a book for me as the novel is sexuality-in-rectangle; the function and form cross one another in a liminal way I can’t do justice to. As one of the most parochial of bohemians, prolonged sections about fucking usually leave me cold, but James is up to something genuinely brilliant here: the insistence on recording every movement of physical congress (read: straight-up fuckage by the tonnage) does not capture its audience by desensitization, rather it invites you into its capacious but clandestine world by inclusion. If the idea of reading about a man’s tongue going into another man’s ass troubles you, then find reward elsewhere. What begins as one principal’s first erotic fumblings expands castward into a narrative polyopia of homosexuality as individually lived experience. As all of the novel’s arc is homosexual in genesis, nothing is excessive despite it doing for spit what Alphabetical Africa did for the ABCs. How in the fuck can fucking be excessive when contrasted against the applied sociology of gay bashing and murder? Sexual agency functions as signs of life in The Disappearers, even when its presence hails down its own doom, and the human dignity of witnessing that earns all of the tongue-into-asshole prose you can throw a dick at. I won’t break from brushing.

Because that’s really the greatest illusion James conjures here, tricking his reader into congratulating themselves on their acceptance of deviancy from the larger body of heteronormative mores. It is more than likely that someone will offer that James’ novel is ‘progressive’ or ‘transgressive.’ Both of which I would only apply as compliments. We have plenty of milquetoast fresh out of the oven, modern fiction being a shithouse of passivity and catering to microniches. Goddamn it, I wish Oprah still physically enforced her Book Club participation; say what you may about the Second Big O (Otis was first in space), but it’s a fact that she put a lot of great books in hands unlikely to crack those spines. (A well-argued treatise could be written about the younger white male aversion to anything stamped with Winfrey’s seal; man, it’s a fucked-up world).

I lost myself. For a minute there, I lost myself (sing it). Having wasted this much of your time and my time ‘on the clock,’ I will risk pedantry to champion a final suggestion on your reading—should you find any tendency toward self-congratulation for reading outside your comfort zone/seeing ‘humanity’ instead of gay Jamaican manfucking: stop. Recognize the profound moral trust James is extending to you with his arm extended and open-handed, and that it is our privilege to be recognized inside the cast’s (and, really, James’) world. The directionality of that imperative flows from you, through the novel’s experiential wonder, and back to James, or at least I hold that it should. But all things being equal, what do I know? I’m starting to sound like a real asshole myself, and though I am a bespectacled man, I see no tongues extended-in-wait anywhere in my field of vision.

Always a goddamn bridesmaid. Fuck! (and no one get hurt for it).

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

Sometimes I try to picture that year had the play been a success. It leaves me confused. I don't know what success would have meant anyway. What nobody tells you about tragedy is that it Lowers your expectations of people and yourself. Lose your toes and success means still having a f-ing foot. So, success became a rehearsal that did not leave a body count, a reading that did not leave one with his eyes gouged out. I don't know if failure is something that never succeeded or was never tried. Maybe a woman mourns an abortion the same way one does a stillbirth. Somebody out there is saying that communism never failed because it was never tried. I only say that because that is how I feel about this play. Fortune and Men's Eyes. It never had the chance to become a failure so instead it became a ghost. You wouldn't know this but in the Caribbean the stillbirth becomes a peculiar spirit, menacing because it is so innocent. It never grows old enough to know that it shouldn't wail in the early morning like some hacksaw jagging and cutting through the darkness. Like somebody had cut its throat. The only thing a ghost can do is haunt you.

Longlisted for the 2026 Booker Prize

Jamaican novelist Marlon James “A Brief History of Seven Killings” was the winner of the 2015 Booker Prize (as an aside another novel on that year’s shortlist “A Little Life” has clearly had a greater longevity and cult-like divisive status even to the present day). A fictionalised account of Bob Marley (known as “The Singer” throughout) it was distinctive both for its patios and for its violence-infused text dealing with gang, drug, political and CIA-sanctioned violence. I have to say I was a rare dissenter on the novel – my least favourite Booker winner of all time – I found the stream of consciousness slang hard to follow and the sordid and violent world it portrays making it unpleasant reading when I could follow ………… and I think ultimately my issue was that while acknowledging that gangs exist, basing a novel around them felt gratuitous.

Now after a diversion for many years into Afro-Centric Fantasy with his trilogy of “Black Leopard”, “Red Wolf” and “Moon Witch, Spider King”, James returns both to literary fiction, Jamaica and to a world of violence – but here the violence seems to be very necessary and integral to the tale he is telling of a deliberate erasure in Jamaican culture and history of both its gay population and of the terrible and wantonly violent, at times literally murderous persecution of that group.

It is however an equally difficult read – not least as that violence is set aside some lengthy explicitly sexual passages, which mainly describe in almost porn-like detail, transactional often transitory encounters and include various scenes which are at least adjacent to prostitution, forces sexual assaults and even semi-consensual gang-bangs.

The novel has a series of five distinctive sections taking place from 1988 to 2005 although with an epistolary history back to the late 1940s.

It begins with a cast of six wanabee actors, a stage manager and a producer/director Havelock Titus taking part in the latter’s attempt to stage a controversial real-life play (“Fortune and Men’s Eyes”) set in a youth reformatory and exploring homosexuality and sexual power plays in that prison environment – one of the actors Eddy Porteous is the first party narrator. Eddy is attracted to another actor – Matt Chin and also intrigued and a little concerned by the fact that another Jordon Brown seems to be living in his car and visiting the notorious mansion of Paul Royale.

I enjoyed a lot of this first section although I found it hard to really follow the play sections as they were too fragmentary and this did not help with simultaneously trying to get to know the eight protagonists of the novel and the six of the play. I suspect a full appreciation would require a read of the play.

The section ends (no spoilers as its integral to the novel’s blurb) with a violent attack on the play (for which Eddy is not present) – and in a memorably harrowing second section we alternate between various members of the murderous and frenzied mob who descend on the play’s protagonists with terrible consequences (but also with impunity given the societal backlash against homosexuality which has only been magnified by AIDS hysteria). The protagonists include (and are inspired by) a reggae singer Streggeh Don known for his aggressively homophobic lyrics including “Batty is not Pussy”.

The third and longest (and I have to say for me least enjoyable) section tells us of those consequences – one actor killed and sexually assaulted with a tree branch, one with his eyes gouged out, and two subsequently missing (including Matt). The third section is largely told by one of the remaining actors – Jordon – as he and Eddy (Eddy guilty that for family reasons he was not present, Jordon in effect guilty for being relatively unscathed – at least in terms of long term physical impact) both try to come to terms with the mental aftermath of the attack and try to trace the two missing men (Matt in particular proving complex – with even pre attack an apparent series of identities). Both of these quests are linked by the idea that “there’s a difference between when something ends and when something stops” and by linked ideas and different layers of disappearance. And the ostensible set up of this section is that large parts of it are from tapes made by a documentary journalist interviewing both Jordan and (to a lesser extent) Eddy for a project whose working title is the same as the novel. Jordon processes much of life through song lyrics (particularly of the indie/grunge variety) “I wonder if I really don't have a voice of my own with only rock lyrics to talk for me. When I don't have words and my own head feels like it's going to explode, I play the end of Nirvana's "Territorial Pissings" and scream into a pillow. One time when it hit me that I was in my own damn house, I screamed out in the open Gotta find a way, a better way, I'd better wait over and over until I spit something out in the dark that tasted slippery like blood.” – but much of what he processes are the aforementioned sexual encounters including one with someone he believes to be one of the attackers and who he effectively grooms before taking a plotted revenge.

The fourth section is very much a change of pace and style if not theme – a series of rather stylistically restrained and old-fashioned letters from Havelock to a man who pimped him into establishment circles in London post war. As part of this Havelock gives us some clearer explanation of some parts of the previous sections and also reveals his concern that Jordon is carrying out a series of revenge attacks on those who believed participated in the attack as well as in some cases (we learn here and subsequently) sometimes targeted (but sometimes simply tit for tat attacks on heterosexuals) in response to homophobic atrocities.

The fifth and final section is split into two parts – one dark the other redemptive. In the first a by now rather deranged mid 30s Jordon effects his final revenge in a kidnap of Streggeh Don – a scene rendered even more terrible when Haverlock traces him. But the last gives us the story of one of the missing men and his encounter with an Eddy no longer forced to make his sexuality disappear.

Overall it was a novel which feels as necessary as his Booker winner felt to me gratuitous. But at the same time I found it much more striking to reflect on than to actually enjoying reading, and I would therefore hesitate to unreservedly recommend it.

My thank to Viking, Penguin General UK for an ARC via NetGalley and paper ARC.

Of all the f-dup things happening in the world to us, you think that is the thing to not make me sleep at night. No, it wasn't a question. I'm trying to find two gay men who just gone poof when battymen vanishing all around us. That is what AIDS is after all, isn't it? One long set of disappearing acts. First is watching the friends and family disappeal. Second act is when people try to disappear you. Third act is watching your body vanish from itself and wondering where the f- you going, piece by piece, until all of you gone. I swear to God, at one point I used to think people with AIDS just evaporate. If there is a fourth act it's when everybody erase your name as if you were never born in the first place

[Janine · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is my first book by this author who is known for his lengthy books - so settle in. What I found in reading was this book though was an author who tells a story so cleverly structured that it pulls out a gut-wrenching response to the plight of people who are different in some people’s eyes but who really like all humans are searching for love and connection. Powerful

The novel begins with entries from a journal - THIS JOURNAL BELONGS TO: Edmond Porteous”. Edmond “Eddy,” we learn from the list of characters at the beginning of the book is one of eight gay men rehearsing a play, “Fortune and Men’s Eyes” in 1988 Kingston, Jamaica. The journal runs from May 3 to June 3 and sets up this group in the story for the mob - Eddy arrived too late ti have been assaulted. Then it moves to The Blackjacks, the mob of men who assault the actors - we hear them spewing their virulent hatred and even fear of gay men (calked “battyman” in Jamaica). It ends with the Blackjacks leaving to assault the group.

The book segues to 1994 (April-June) and to Jordan Brown, a twenty-five year old who was one of the gay men assaulted in 1988. He says “no faggot in Jamaica is living, we’re not even existing. We’re just surviving.” Jordan is being interviewed by Peta-Gaye Burke, a journalist, for something she’s writing whose working title is “The Disappeared”. Jordan as is Eddy who makes an appearance in the section are haunted by the assault and the disappearance of two of the men, Matt Chin and Orrin Turner. Eddy and Jordan try to find the two but never do. The novel then shifts again in time to 1999 (February-December) with letters from Havelock Titus, one of the attacked, writing to a friend, Mark, a pimp. Havelock is in London. And he as Jordan and Eddy is torn by the assault and friend’s disappearance. It’s a gut wrenching read. Jordan Brown reappears in 2005 with Havelock in America. Here the book concludes written in the more traditional novel format. These men are still trying to reconcile the attack even as the world seems to be changing.

In this epic, exceptionally well written book covering nearly twenty years is a raw story. It takes place in the period of the rise of AIDS and the alarming fear of homosexuality as portrayed in Jamaica. Having lived during that time - though not in Jamaica - it was such an unknown crazy time when little was known about AIDS but much was speculated (we can now watch pharmaceutical commercials about AIDS medications showing happy couples). The impact though of the assault is visceral as the story progresses. We feel for these men.

This is a book for lovers of literary fiction by an author of exceptional talent

My thanks to NetGalley and Riverhead Books for allowing me access to this ARC.

[Todd · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thanks to NetGalley and Riverhead Books for this ARC!

If you follow my reviews, you know that I love to pair a movie with a book. While I was reading The Disappearers, I couldn’t get the film Sauvage out of my head because they share the same bleak and brutal tones. A quote from Sauvage that I think also applies here: “You were made to be loved.” Each of the men in the play deserves a life so much better than what’s happened to them. This book highlights one of the things I’ve found most true in life: your quality of life is often contingent on the environment in which you were born and where you grew up. Escaping where you come from can be extremely difficult. The lives of these men could have been so much better had they been born somewhere else.


The structure of this story is audacious. This book is split into five sections, including one section that brings readers into the mind of the attackers. As the story unfolds, we see how each of these men responds differently to trauma. I think the structure of this story helps keep the narrative cohesive. I don’t think this would work as well if the story were split into a group of novellas.

This book includes a mixture of first, second, and third person. On paper, this shouldn’t work, but James’s incredible craftsmanship allows him to navigate these conflicting voice styles gracefully.

This is my first time reading Marlon James, but it won’t be my last. This is a truly unforgettable reading experience. I expect this book will be off-putting to some readers because of its lurid nature, as well as its graphic language. However, this book definitely was for me. I think this story might haunt me forever.

I appreciated learning so much about Jamaica and how James incorporates patois dialect into the narrative. This book included some hilarious lines that added levity to such a dire situation. I found it true to the nature of gay men.

I really appreciated the references to gay culture and what it meant to some of these men. For example, mentioning Paul Monette and John Rechy helped show the impact of gay culture.

This is definitely an abridged review because James gives us so much to unpack. I eagerly await when this book is available to purchase because there are many themes and plot points to dissect. I need to discuss it with others. I anticipate that The Disappearers will make a lot of best of lists at the end of the year.

[Stephen the Bookworm · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Learn to run fast on short notice. I wanted Eddy to see this, after all he just experienced as an exception what some of we experience as a rule. Really"
"At some point I stopped being clever and ended up being unconscious because at about five in the morning I woke up in a hospital ward.."

Once in a while, you read a novel that is so powerful and even graphic that you have to pause now and again to get your thoughts together, take a breath and continue knowing that things will still be a challenging read - but more to the point that what you are reading is important and essential to enter and understand a world of violence and cruelty that is inflicted upon a community.

The Disappearers begins in 1988 in Kingston Jamaica when a group of gay men meet to be cast in an openly gay play; this is dangerous in a society where to be gay - or not heteronormative - is illegal and the law is taken into the hands of anyone who feels the need to use violence as a form of justice. This is the era where the word AIDS was used to legitimise violence as a weapon. It is not long before the men are cruelly and viscously attacked by a group of men ( including police) one is murdered and the others sustain violent injuries. This is not easy reading at all but is so vital.

Each of themes tries other continue their lives in their own way- some want to forget; some want to runaway ; some want retribution. Their struggles are palpable and heartbreaking but even within this group of men there is need to try and understand and accept the choices made by one another.

The world of the men is explored and the hidden world of Jamaican gay community- the prose is explicit, and direct but none of it is written for the sake of deliberate provocation - every element builds a picture of the lives- the tragedies, the battles and sometimes the joys.

Marlon James has written a masterpiece ( yes, Book Longlisted 2026- if it wins it will be a miracle but certainly deserves plaudits and attention)

There is dark humour within the story and the referencing of music during the 80s and 90s adds a strong period dynamic as well as another level of connection with some of the characters as the lyrics enter their thoughts and words as a comfort and power.

Marlon James' words are unwavering /fearless in their desire to make every reader truly understand the vileness of a society that cannot accept difference ( and hides away the hypocrisy of some "straight men")

This will unsettle some readers but in a world where the rise of the rightwing and laws are being being repealed against diversity, then The Disappearers is a powerful reminder how far some parts of the world may have moved forward ( but could easily regress) but also to make us realise that in some places gay sex is still illegal - Jamaica to this very day - and violence is still part of some people's agenda.

This is a story that cries out to let us all be who we want to be and illuminates a world where acceptance is never fully given

Superb.

Thank you Marlon James

Thank you to Hamish Hamilton/Penguin Random House and NetGalley for an advance for an honest and unbiased review

[Rachel Matthews · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really enjoyed James's Booker Prize-winning novel, 'A Brief History of Seven Killings,' although "enjoyed" may not be quite the right word given the violence and difficult themes tackled in that book.

In 'The Disappearers,' James returns to Jamaica, this time in the late '80s / early '90s as we follow Eddy Porteus, a light-skinned, gay, Black man in his late teens living in a fraught family situation where his sexuality is known but unspoken. Looking for community, Eddy signs up to take part in a play he sees advertised in a shop window.

When he arrives at the first rehearsal, there are seven other men present. All of them are gay, and each is dealing with the struggles of being gay in Jamaica at a time when homosexuality is not accepted. The act of them gathering to perform a play with gay and trans characters is in itself an act of protest.

One night, during a rehearsal that Eddy does not attend, the cast members are viciously attacked, leaving one man blind and one man dead. Shortly after the attack, two of the remaining cast members disappear.

Perhaps out of guilt or shame, Eddy embarks on a quest to find the lost men, focusing on one man in particular for whom he feels a strong attraction (bordering on obsession). The journey forces Eddy to confront his own internal conflict about his sexuality and the very real external dangers he faces.

I typically don't feel the need to give trigger warnings, but here I feel a warning is required. This book deals with some extremely heavy themes, so please be prepared. I felt the visceral nature of the writing and the often disturbing subject matter were necessary to fully understand the characters, but I also recognise it won't be for everyone.

On a somewhat more hopeful note, the book's closing lines bring a resolution and redemption which are well earned after the preceding harrowing events.

Ultimately, I would recommend this book; Marlon James's writing is all-consuming and you will (for better or worse) be fully immersed in this world. Just be ready; James doesn't shy away from pain and violence. For me, however, it was a worthwhile journey and an unforgettable reading experience.

My thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the opportunity to be an early reader of this novel.

[Caroline · Rating 5 out of 5]

. . . I can’t remember the last time a novel left me this speechless.

1988 Jamacia: 8 men meet in rehearsals for a play that promises to expose the “fragile myth of Jamaican sexuality and homophobia.” The very act of putting on this play is transgressive in a time and place where stoic masculinity is the only accepted norm, and being publicly identified as a “battyman” is akin to a death sentence.

We first enter this world through Eddy Porteous’s diary. He is 18 but tells everyone he is 17 to relive and reclaim his “fucked up” 17th year. Eddy’s voice really captures the dueling forces of his queer interior versus the outside world, which is telling him that to survive, he must be a ‘normal’ man. It’s a concept has been so ingrained into him that it even bleeds into his own diaristic world.

On the night of the targeted murderous attack by a mob—an attack that is not a tragedy, but an “atrocity”—I was taken aback by the switch in perspectives to the mobs. Entering the minds of these extremely hateful, bigoted men was hard to read (like, A Little Life-level hard to read at times), but such an effective way to tell this story of how a country’s scars effects everyone. It really took me aback, but WOW!

Following the attacks (not a spoiler, it’s on the book jacket!) the play disbands, some men vanishing into thin air, everyone focusing on just surviving in a world that would rather see them dead, where every single breath is a second guess.

Told through varying perspectives and mediums, the novel has a collage-like feel to its storytelling that propels the reader through time through teenage diary entries, letters, witness statements and interviews.

James truly immerses you into Kingston in the 80s, but what truly made this novel feel so incredible was the way he interweaves queer joy and love through their unending hardships. The way that these men are continuously saved by the beauty of pop music, literature and flashes of queer community had me in tears again and again.

This is going to be THE book of 2026. I can’t wait for this one to come into the world so I can talk about it with people!

[Quill (thecriticalreader) · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.25 stars

This book was one of the toughest reading experiences I’ve had in a long time; I had to take frequent breaks because the brutality, hatred, and violence it depicts made me physically ill. That said, I am very glad that I read it even though it is not a perfect book.

The Disappearers is about a group of gay men who decide to put on a gay play together, despite the fact that being gay in Jamaica (especially during the 1980s AIDS crisis) is often a death sentence. Mob violence against gay people is normalized, even encouraged, and the men putting on this play are subject to a horrific attack one night while rehearsing. The book follows some of these men’s lives before and after the attack and how they deal with the never-ending trauma of their circumstances.

Marlon James’s skill as a writer is immediately apparent. He has a gift for dialogue, immersive storytelling, and intense emotional impact. It is clear that he writes not only with an intimate knowledge of the book’s time and setting, but with a burning personal need to depict these atrocities on the page.

All that said, however, I think The Disappearers would benefit greatly from a couple more rounds of keen editing. It is over 640 pages long, and I think it would have been much more effective if pared down with focus and intent. As it is, there is a lot of repetition and rambling. That repetition may have been intentional to create a rhyming echo effect throughout the multiple characters’ experiences, but in practice it often comes off as sloppy and redundant. At times, the characters’ voices blend together in a way that suggests a lack of originality, but which could be fixed quite easily with some deliberate editing.

I hope this book wins the Booker prize and gains the recognition it deserves. As it is, however, it reads more like a strong, but messy, first draft that could be transformed into a masterpiece with the help of some focused and attentive edits.

[Bethie · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have mixed feelings about this book. It is absolutely well written, and James does a wonderful job of putting us in the head of the characters. Various ones are featured in the chapters and I felt like I was with them throughout their journey. But I don't know if I can say I really liked it. I do feel it is a worthy read and knowing little about the lives of gay men in Jamaica, it is a story worth telling. However, I think my main issue is with how Marlon James chose to tell the story.

The book starts off with the youngest member within a group of gay men who have volunteered to put on a play. This section spends lots of time with Edmond, it's supposed to be journal, and while there is some gold in there, it is entirely too long. Then we get dumped into the view point of the men who attack the group because they find out they are gay and are disgusted. After that it becomes this mystery told from the perspective of one of the other men, Jordan, then we get a series of letters from one of the men in the group to someone rom his past, and finally a split ending section that kind of bookend each other of what happens to the two "main" character of Edmond and Jordan.

This is an ambitious novel but there was a bit too much happening for me to fully engage with it. James is also graphic in his depiction of violence and sex, and at times that was a bit much for me. I do not think this is an accessible book for the average reader. Definitely for someone who is really into character studies and extracting the deep cultural wounds that bind us. I myself am interested in those things, but at 640 pages, it did feel like James was quite indulgent and could have shortened the story. But I get the feeling each element was there for a reason and therefore he would not have been able to tell it the way he wanted if he had. Still worth a read, but I'd suggest ingesting each section on it's own, this isn't a book you speed through.

[Haidyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.25 stars

Firstly, thank you so much NetGalley for this e-Arc! I was beyond excited when I got approved and immediately texted all my book friends about it.

This is a book set in Kingston, Jamaica in the 1980s through to the early 2000s and follows a group of men as they prepare to perform a queer play, a substantially horrifying and traumatic event, and the individual fallout of this event in their lives. This book has all the hallmarks of Marlon James’ writing: his wide net of characters who’s stories overtime get interwoven into a beautiful pattern, the dialect that changes by character and immerses you directly into the scenes, and the raw and graphic emotion that keeps you from being able to tear yourself away from the story even when the book is no longer in front of you.

I have previously read A Brief History of Seven Killings, and even though I thought I knew the depth - both literally and emotionally - I was going to be getting into with this novel, but wow was I wrong. This is a tome of 640 pages, and every single word, scene, and character is exactly where and what they need to be. There are moments in this book that are extremely dark and visceral, but Marlon understands what he is asking of his readers and makes sure that there are also moments of joy and humor (albeit dark humor but humor nonetheless) that had me laughing as a reprieve shortly after a I was plunged further into this portrait of violence and hatred.

Something that Marlon did in this book that I enjoyed was how he played with form. Parts of this book are through first person, others are through interviews, still others are epistolary, and each character has their own clear and defined voice and perspective. This book acts questions of whether, and when, violence is justified. What does freedom mean? What does love and community look like? How does one disappear?

‘The only way for them to see us is for us to disappear.’

[Michael · Rating 5 out of 5]

Whew. What a visceral journey - one I will not forget. I finished this book left breathless.

I read a lot of LGBTQ+ literature. It’s the genre I consistently return to, and THE DISAPPEARERS has earned a place on my shelf reserved for the very best queer fiction I’ve ever read.

Set in Kingston, Jamaica, in 1988, the novel follows eight gay men who answer a casting call for an openly queer play. In a society where being gay places them in constant danger, even auditioning is an act of courage. During rehearsal, a violent anti-gay mob descends on the theater, killing one man and injuring the other seven. This is not a spoiler - it is part of the book’s official synopsis.

From there, Marlon James structures the narrative through shifting perspectives: we first enter through the diary entries of a gay teenager, then move into witness statements recounting the aftermath of the attack, before the story continues to fracture into multiple voices and viewpoints. The effect is disorienting, immersive, and powerful, forcing the reader to inhabit the event from every possible angle.

James’s prose is sweeping and unsparing. He writes with raw precision, cutting directly to the emotional and moral core of each moment. The structure and voice shifts are not just stylistic choices. They deepen the impact of what is being witnessed, emphasizing both the brutality of the attack and the fragility of the lives it shatters.

THE DISAPPEARERS is a searing, unforgettable work of fiction that confronts violence, erasure, and survival with unrelenting honesty. It is heartbreaking and necessary in equal measure, and it stays with you not just as a story, but as an experience. This is essential queer literature - urgent, vital, and impossible to ignore.

[Adrian · Rating 1 out of 5]

On the one hand I feel sort of bad for giving 1 star, although it was very much a DNF and therefore a 2 star review would probably be generous, even if this book deserves minor credit for its ambitious energy - however, as mentioned, I very much didn't finish and the lowest review is a three, I guess I had to be that guy.

When reading this hyper-sexualised, hyper-violent novel I felt that this had shades of Bret Easton Ellis - lots of intense dialogue about the socio-political circumstances in Jamaica (and yes, it sounds beyond oppressive) before this type of irrelevant observations - be it about Bruce Springstein's backside, Falcon Crest or Prince's daring album covers etc. This book reminds me of a friend I know who always makes commentaries about people's bodies - this was very akin to this.

The character/s exist in a hotbed of sexual urges and, sure get into all types of sexual activities. The first part, which I finished was an overlong journal about the character's mastubatory habits, outlook on why Jamaica has so many problems and about the play that is really the plot element of the novel. A daring play in the style of Bent. The incident we were expecting happens once we have the other characters and their quirks introduced and the violence is Tarrantino-esque and excessive. Excessive is the only word for it. Then we return to the action 5 years later and there's various descriptions and clues as to what happened to some of the actors. The rest seems to be about sex, sex, sex.

So, to continue at my current point of 41%? I can't decide - however, currently the overstuffing of body parts leads to all signs of the 8 ball leading to no. Why this book has reached 5 stars I also have yet to understand...

[Dez Roberts · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am so greatful to Viking for providing this ARC. It was I think the first one I received and it has waited for my attention for a while now. It was a truly unhinged, unreal novel that really blew me away

What impressed me most was Marlon James' refusal to offer easy answers. Rather than dividing people neatly into heroes and villains, he explores how prejudice, trauma, shame and violence ripple through lives, leaving damage and trauma that can be really difficult to escape. Every major character feels fully realised, flawed and painfully human.

Jordan was the character who stayed with me the most. He's one of the most tragic figures I've encountered in fiction, and his story becomes a powerful exploration of what unresolved trauma can do to a person. Havelock's sections are equally affecting, examining loneliness, class and the burden of carrying old wounds for decades. No one exists simply to make a point. Every perspective adds another layer to the novel's emotional and moral complexity.

What Marlon James accomplishes structurally is astonishing. This is an enormous, intricately constructed novel that constantly reshapes your understanding of characters and events. Stories overlap, perspectives shift, seemingly small details become hugely significant hundreds of pages later, and revelations continually force you to reassess what you thought you knew. It's the sort of book that demands your attention. I ended up tabbing key sections just to keep track of the characters and timelines, and I can completely understand why some readers might find its scale intimidating.

Devastating, ambitious and astonishingly intelligent. This is one of the greatest novels I've read in a long time, and one I'll be thinking about for years.

[Andrew Hickey · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Disappearers
Marlon James

Spanning decades, a group of gay men in Jamaica who came together in the eighties to put on a play have their lives forever changed by a brutal act of homophobic violence committed by a mob. Exploring the lives of multiple characters before and after James offers an unflinching look into society and the root of hatred and violence and the impacts it has as well as revenge, survivors guilt, and identity.

Like James’ other novels The Disappearers is told through intertwined narratives and multiple perspectives. Although time is straightforward the narrative heart isn’t always, as the characters come in and out of each other’s lives through the years. It is a difficult novel that many people may pass because of its explicit content but as the title suggests the world often casts such acts to the shadows and refuses to look at such hatred directly although unlike other novels that explore similar ideas there is a point in the violence here it’s not for shock value. There is a current of anger running throughout its pages that confronts people to look at what has happened and to explore how we handle such things. Some people flee afraid of it happening again, some people let revenge consume them, others continue as if nothing happened.

The Disappearers stands as one of the best novels of the year. Offering engrossing characters and plenty to think about concerning violence and hate as well as love and identity.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for providing an eARC for review purposes.

[Ben Dutton · Rating 5 out of 5]

Marlon James' latest novel returns us to Jamaica after his time away from contemporary stories and his journey into fantasy with his Dark Star Trilogy. Given the massive success of A Brief History of Seven Killings, which won many major awards and was highly lauded, I can understand his reluctance to launch into any kind of immediate follow up and write something different. This doesn't mean that there isn't expectation on The Disappearers - it is highly anticipated and I feel very honoured to have been allowed to read a copy before publication.

It is 1988 in Kingston, Jamaica. Eight gay men meet for the rehearsal of a play, openly queer in it's subject. By the end of the night, and scenes of shocking brutality, the survivors must each, in their own way, find a method to deal with the hurt, the pain and the fury this event has unlocked. Written in starkly, beautifully brutal language which captures perfectly the patois and voice of these men, The Disappearers is an utterly brilliant novel, a very worthy successor to A Brief History, and truly cements Marlon James as one of the great writers working today. The Disappearers is not always an easy read, but it is an essential one. Highly recommend.

[BookOfCinz Reading Retreat Host · Rating 4 out of 5]

Irreverent, Haunting, Unflinching, Violent but also a deeply necessary read.

Set in the 1980s in Kingston, Jamaica we are taken to a theatre for a rehearsal of a play. All the men who gathered are strangers to each other and they share one thing in common- they are all gay. Being gay in Jamaica in the 80s is pretty much a death sentence and they are all hyper aware about this. Their worse fears are realized when one night they are savagely attached by a mob and one of them is beaten to death. The others barely survived the attack and as they heal from the trauma they each process things differently. How can they exist in a world that wants them dead?

In The Disappearers Marlon James attempts to answer this question. Written with heart we meet characters who are just trying to live, exist and take up space in a place that is trying to make them feel small. James did a brilliant job of taking us to Kingston, Jamaica during a time that was violent and unrelenting for gay men. Once you start reading the book you will understand the title and why a book like this needs to be written and read widely.

I cannot wait for more people to experience this.

[Travis Riddle · Rating 5 out of 5]

ARC received from Netgalley

A truly harrowing tale that is sprinkled with enough of Marlon James's style of (oftentimes dark) humor to prevent the overall experience from being a hugely depressing slog, which also emphasizes the characters' humanity and helps the emotional beats pop even more than they would otherwise.

No one does characters like Marlon James; every one of the several POV characters we ride with in this book feel so totally real and fleshed out, and we get a deep look at their inner lives and their myriad flaws in addition to their ambitions about the lives they wish they could lead. The book focuses on the murder mentioned in the premise less than you might expect, instead spending a lot of its time on the characters and how they came to that moment and how that moment shaped them (even though some might deny that it did) in the years after.

It's an incredibly compelling and thought-provoking book, probably a masterpiece, and it's going to be hard if not impossible to top it as my favorite book of 2026. These characters and their intertwined lives are going to stick with me for a very long time.

[Mara · Rating 5 out of 5]

James writes with unwavering honesty about the social, political, economic, and (pop)cultural realities of 1980s– 2000s Jamaica. His voice is contained yet ruthless, and every page carries so much weight. The narrative is intense, but it’s written with so much style and finesse.

While exploring queer Caribbean life, James places it against a backdrop, and also somehow of violence, trauma, religious dogma, and retribution, showing the realities of homophobia and how queer communities endured during a time of oppression and turmoil. It’s a powerful, unflinching story that’s incredibly rich and layered.

For whatever reason, I didn’t expect this book to get as dark. At times, it felt like James dropped me right into the violence, and I found myself needing to take breaks because of how heavy everything was/ some minor pacing issues.

The book is split into five parts, and the pacing was a little hard for me to get into, especially in the beginning. Part 3, though, was almost Bolaño-2666-level brutal. Outside of the main narrator, I also had a hard time connecting with some of the other characters.

That said, this is one of those books that’s going to stick with me for a long time.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Disappearers is an intense novel. It depicts violence and sex in explicit language that can leave the reader uncomfortable. Adding to the discomfort is the setting of the story — 1980s Jamaica, where homophobia was a norm. To look down on a queer person and to treat them with no dignity was considered the right thing to do at the time, and Marlon James’s sentences don’t hold back the intensity of that era’s homophobia. Neither does he hold back the anger in our main characters, each a queer person and a victim of the bias against them.

The book is an angry one, all 640 pages of it. There is anger in those who hurt the queer community, and there is anger in the people who bore the suffering.

Written in different forms — diary entry, first, second, and third-person narrative, interviews, and letters — the book tries to evoke the angst of its characters in whatever way it could. And I think it worked.

A four-star rating for me, because I couldn’t stay with the intensity of the book in a long reading session. I had to put down the book several times to be able to get back to it.

[Beth · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is an ambitious and challenging novel set in Jamaica, beginning with a violent attack on a group of gay men rehearsing a play in 1988. The story follows the survivors and the search for two men who disappear after the attack. There is a lot to admire here. James is a talented writer, and the different voices and storytelling styles give the novel a distinctive feel. The story has plenty to say about violence, survival, and belonging.

For me, though, the book was difficult to stay fully engaged with. At more than 600 pages, the shifting perspectives, different forms of narration, and sometimes meandering storyline made it challenging to follow. The violence and subject matter are also extremely heavy which normally works for me, but found this an easy book to put down and not pick back up.

I'm glad I gave it a try, but I don't think it was the right book for me. I think readers who enjoy literary fiction with experimental structure, multiple perspectives, and very heavy, challenging subject matter will get much more out of it than I did.

Thank you to NetGalley and Riverhead Books for sending this DRC book for review consideration. All opinions are my own.

[André LR · Rating 3 out of 5]

A record after the rehearsal

Marlon James's The Disappearers begins with men entering a rehearsal house on Lady Musgrave Road in 1988 Kingston, then ends that rehearsal with men breaking through the door.

Havelock Titus is staging John Herbert's Fortune and Men's Eyes, a prison play built on coercion and confinement. Eddy Porteous is cast as Mona, Matt Chin-See as Smitty. Omar Joseph, Rainford Ellis, Jordan Brown, Orrin Turner, Clive and Havelock move through the same room before the country enters with clubs, scripture, AIDS panic and public permission. Omar is killed and Rainford is blinded the same night.

Matt and Orrin vanish later, by other means. The play gives gay men roles inside a drama of confinement, then lets Jamaica decide that even rehearsal is too much public life for them.
Read more: https://www.notesonbooks.net/the-disa...

Advance reader copy provided by NetGalley and Penguin General UK - Fig Tree, Hamish Hamilton, Viking, Penguin Life, Penguin Business | Hamish Hamilton

[Chris Chanona · Rating 3 out of 5]

Marlon James is a fine writer and I really enjoyed his novel, Brief History of Seven Killings, referencing Bob Marley. I learned a lot.

However, I just could not settle into The Disappearers. I read pages at a time but it was all so alien to me, maybe not a bad thing for an old British white woman to face up to, that I just could not get into the rhythm. I found it difficult to grasp any sense. I read passages at a time rather than cover to cover.

I once went to a live interview with Marlon at the Brighton Festival and remember him saying Dickens was an influence. I could detect this in Seven Killings but all trace has gone in The Disappearers. I guess that Eddy Porteous at 18 retells some of Marlon’s own story and why he left Jamaica for the usa.

I think this will be a popular novel despite me finding it difficult.

I received an ARC from NetGalley and the publishers. Thank you.