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The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter
The hotly anticipated first novel by lauded playwright and The Wire TV writer Kia Corthron, The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter sweeps American history from 1941 to the twenty-first century through the lives of four men--two white brothers from rural Alabama, and two black brothers from small-town Maryland--whose journey culminates in an explosive and devastating encounter between the two families.
On the eve of America's entry into World War II, in a tiny Alabama town, two brothers come of age in the shadow of the local chapter of the Klan, where Randall--a brilliant eighth-grader and the son of a sawmill worker--begins teaching sign language to his eighteen-year-old deaf and uneducated brother B.J. Simultaneously, in small-town Maryland, the sons of a Pullman Porter--gifted six-year-old Eliot and his artistic twelve-year-old brother Dwight--grow up navigating a world expanded both by a visit from civil and labor rights activist A. Philip Randolph and by the legacy of a lynched great-aunt.
The four mature into men, directly confronting the fierce resistance to the early civil rights movement, and are all ultimately uprooted. Corthron's ear for dialogue, honed from years of theater work, brings to life all the major concerns and movements of America's past century through the organic growth of her marginalized characters, and embraces a quiet beauty in their everyday existences.
On the eve of America's entry into World War II, in a tiny Alabama town, two brothers come of age in the shadow of the local chapter of the Klan, where Randall--a brilliant eighth-grader and the son of a sawmill worker--begins teaching sign language to his eighteen-year-old deaf and uneducated brother B.J. Simultaneously, in small-town Maryland, the sons of a Pullman Porter--gifted six-year-old Eliot and his artistic twelve-year-old brother Dwight--grow up navigating a world expanded both by a visit from civil and labor rights activist A. Philip Randolph and by the legacy of a lynched great-aunt.
The four mature into men, directly confronting the fierce resistance to the early civil rights movement, and are all ultimately uprooted. Corthron's ear for dialogue, honed from years of theater work, brings to life all the major concerns and movements of America's past century through the organic growth of her marginalized characters, and embraces a quiet beauty in their everyday existences.
800 pages, Hardcover
First published January 26, 2016
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 107 reviews
December 16, 2016
Full disclosure: the author is my sister. For that reason I've hesitated to say anything here. But screw that. CASTLE is a gorgeous, sweeping, harrowing, and moving journey through a half century of American history. From the perspectives of the Evans and Campbell brothers, we watch the ever-present legacy of human bondage take its toll on a society that refuses to deal with it. There's also plenty of humor, too, as there always is in life. Get the book, settle in, and take the journey.
October 15, 2018
I can't believe I haven't written a review of this novel yet. It should have won the Pulitzer. It's that good. This is truly one of the best books I've ever read. The story is sweeping and yet intimate, the dialogue sings off the page (only a playwright could write dialogue this perfect), the characters fully realized. It's full of history and insight. I want everyone to read it.
July 24, 2016
I am thrilled when I discover a new author with great potential and Kia Corthron is such an author. Corthron is new in the sense that she has written her first novel, but at 54 and an experienced playwright she isn't a novice. The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter: A Novel is a powerful book about race relations, family relationships, betrayal, grace and redemption. I loved it and I hated it and it left me bereft.
The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter follows the lives of two sets of brothers, one white and one black from Randall and BJ of Prayer Ridge, Alabama and Dwight and Elliot of Humble, Maryland, respectively. We are introduced to each in the 1940's and 1950's when they seem to have so much potential. With each set we see how their flaws and childhood errors creates a rift between the brothers.
Corthon has written the book in the dialect of her characters and this is sometimes somewhat difficult to follow, but it is also powerful as shown by the following:
Make me wonder if it all a bad side a the brain. Like there's a section reserved for meanness, prejudice. All us got it, but some of us use it more n others, Henry Lee made good use a his once. She sigh. He was a child. But maybe that parta his brain's the part that explosive shot off. Lotta other people roun here could use that kinda surgery.
This is a hefty read at 800 pages and one does not pick it up lightly or carelessly. There is so much to digest in those 800 pages. The story is skillfully woven and there are characters that one cares about deeply. BJ is one of my favorite fictional characters ever.
There are also some extremely disturbing scenes, two of which I had a very hard time with and one which I couldn't read and had to skip past and I generally have a strong constitution and can read difficult passages, but not this one.
I recommend this book highly but with the aforementioned caveat.
The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter follows the lives of two sets of brothers, one white and one black from Randall and BJ of Prayer Ridge, Alabama and Dwight and Elliot of Humble, Maryland, respectively. We are introduced to each in the 1940's and 1950's when they seem to have so much potential. With each set we see how their flaws and childhood errors creates a rift between the brothers.
Corthon has written the book in the dialect of her characters and this is sometimes somewhat difficult to follow, but it is also powerful as shown by the following:
Make me wonder if it all a bad side a the brain. Like there's a section reserved for meanness, prejudice. All us got it, but some of us use it more n others, Henry Lee made good use a his once. She sigh. He was a child. But maybe that parta his brain's the part that explosive shot off. Lotta other people roun here could use that kinda surgery.
This is a hefty read at 800 pages and one does not pick it up lightly or carelessly. There is so much to digest in those 800 pages. The story is skillfully woven and there are characters that one cares about deeply. BJ is one of my favorite fictional characters ever.
There are also some extremely disturbing scenes, two of which I had a very hard time with and one which I couldn't read and had to skip past and I generally have a strong constitution and can read difficult passages, but not this one.
I recommend this book highly but with the aforementioned caveat.
Want to read
June 9, 2019Sadly I had to DNF this one. I got to page 300 and I just couldn't bear to have to reread anymore passages with out quotation marks for dialogues. I felt like this book was going to put me into a reading slump. The author has an inconsistent way of writing in dialect, changes topic abruptly - every two lines or paragraph, and no quotes makes it very difficult to figure out what the characters are saying and thinking. This book was missing some serious editing because it's 789 pages and I felt like it was over-written by 300 - 350 pages. Despite what I've said all is not bad in this book. Corthron does an excellent job of talking about African-American history, but you'll have to get through all those difficulties I've listed to get to the story and the historical events and people. I would not recommend it.
October 31, 2016
This book devastated me. I had to set it down several times to weep. Can I tell you that, and then convince you to read it right now, without waiting one more moment?
I read this as part of the 2016 Center for Fiction First Novel Prize shortlist. It's one of the best books I've ever read. It weaves together issues of race in the early civil rights era through the almost-present, issues around sexuality and ability. It gives a glimpse into deaf culture, and how various communication methods help tell stories.
There's an unlikely coincidence near the end that was a little hard to believe, but the rest is so clear and honest and unflinching.
This book will be with me for a long time.
I read this as part of the 2016 Center for Fiction First Novel Prize shortlist. It's one of the best books I've ever read. It weaves together issues of race in the early civil rights era through the almost-present, issues around sexuality and ability. It gives a glimpse into deaf culture, and how various communication methods help tell stories.
There's an unlikely coincidence near the end that was a little hard to believe, but the rest is so clear and honest and unflinching.
This book will be with me for a long time.
December 24, 2017
Oh this book. This book in the year of the best reading I have enjoyed in probably a decade. This book with its odd cover art and nonsensical title. This book that grabbed hold of my heart and took my breath away. This book that made me laugh, cry, cringe, and rejoice. This book that every reader who loves to read amazingly conceived stories with characters so full of life they inhabit your life on a cellular level, must, must read. This book that will stay with me forever.
I don't remember which 'best of' list I got this title from- I only know it was a 'best book I've read this year' list, not a best of 2017 list. Nevertheless, whomever recommended this book to me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. The reading of this glorious work is not something I would have ever wanted to miss.
I ask the same question that other reviewers have asked about this book. How has more noise not been made about this masterpiece? Yes, the title is odd - but it makes 100% sense once you start reading the book. Yes, the cover art is weird but it too will make sense once you delve into the story. Yes, the book is long. 796 pages is nothing to sneeze at, but those pages will fly by and then you will be at the end and sad that there are not another 796 pages of this story to read. I paced my reading of this book - I only allowed myself about 60 pages a day so I could savor it and make it last me through the end of the year (obvi, that didn't work out!). But this book called to me when I wasn't reading it. I came back to it every day with excitement to see what was going to happen next. Even the saddest parts and the scary parts and the gruesome parts did not deter my physical need to pick this book up. There is so much honesty, life and love in these pages.
The timelines and separate stories are so flawlessly rendered as to make your heart ache. The subtle glancing of each story off of the next until they crash together is so beautifully handled that you will not believe it, even while you are reading it.
Treat yourself and read this book- you will not be disappointed!
I don't remember which 'best of' list I got this title from- I only know it was a 'best book I've read this year' list, not a best of 2017 list. Nevertheless, whomever recommended this book to me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. The reading of this glorious work is not something I would have ever wanted to miss.
I ask the same question that other reviewers have asked about this book. How has more noise not been made about this masterpiece? Yes, the title is odd - but it makes 100% sense once you start reading the book. Yes, the cover art is weird but it too will make sense once you delve into the story. Yes, the book is long. 796 pages is nothing to sneeze at, but those pages will fly by and then you will be at the end and sad that there are not another 796 pages of this story to read. I paced my reading of this book - I only allowed myself about 60 pages a day so I could savor it and make it last me through the end of the year (obvi, that didn't work out!). But this book called to me when I wasn't reading it. I came back to it every day with excitement to see what was going to happen next. Even the saddest parts and the scary parts and the gruesome parts did not deter my physical need to pick this book up. There is so much honesty, life and love in these pages.
The timelines and separate stories are so flawlessly rendered as to make your heart ache. The subtle glancing of each story off of the next until they crash together is so beautifully handled that you will not believe it, even while you are reading it.
Treat yourself and read this book- you will not be disappointed!
March 21, 2016
Not a perfect novel, but so devastatingly powerful at its best moments that I can forgive it its flaws and give it the 5 star rating anyway. I hope this will be widely read and get the attention that Corthron's talent so fully deserves.
January 8, 2017
Powerful and emotionally draining. Corthron's characters represent a period of American history that is so devastatingly difficult to look at without flinching. These four brothers are more than a product of their environment, but they are part of the American fabric, a fabric tattered and worn and passed along from generation to generation. I could neither love or hate these characters, as that was not their function. They served as a mirror to the past and, unfortunately, the consequences the past has on present day history.
The last part of this novel was so painful. I wanted to scream out, ENOUGH! But that was the point. How dare me, the reader, turn or walk away from such real horrors. If I couldn't take reading it, what might it have been to experience every second of that nightmare? Corthron forces us to not look away, and in doing so, forces us to confront a part of history we'd rather forget.
Corthron is a master of dialogue - complete artistry and skill. Structure, along with voice, are King here. It was with her characters, and their choices, that I initially struggled. But once I put aside my own moral compass and forgiveness meter, I was forced to see the reality of these characters' "truth". Truth is but a distortion of the ways in which we deal with the reality of life - or what we perceive to be real. Corthron's characters do just that. This story is their TRUTHS to tell.
The last part of this novel was so painful. I wanted to scream out, ENOUGH! But that was the point. How dare me, the reader, turn or walk away from such real horrors. If I couldn't take reading it, what might it have been to experience every second of that nightmare? Corthron forces us to not look away, and in doing so, forces us to confront a part of history we'd rather forget.
Corthron is a master of dialogue - complete artistry and skill. Structure, along with voice, are King here. It was with her characters, and their choices, that I initially struggled. But once I put aside my own moral compass and forgiveness meter, I was forced to see the reality of these characters' "truth". Truth is but a distortion of the ways in which we deal with the reality of life - or what we perceive to be real. Corthron's characters do just that. This story is their TRUTHS to tell.
did-not-finish
February 25, 2019There was quite a bit that I liked about the 40% of this that I managed to get through, but what did me in was the tough, unrelenting slog of the vernacular prose, unrelieved by even a smidgeon of easy-to-read quote-unquote ‘standard English’ exposition or 3rd-person narration. So, in the end, just no.
June 17, 2016
It's just a coincidence that I read this directly after the nonfiction Just Mercy, but they make a good pair -- Just Mercy's focus on racial injustice is just one of the compelling threads in the novel. At 800+ pages, it's definitely a commitment but it's a wonderful, devastating page-turner about brothers (two pairs: one white, one African-American); life in the South (from WW2 to almost the present day); Deaf culture; the justice system and its many failings; family history. It's not a perfect book -- it's probably too long, and the title is terrible -- but I loved it. I haven't encountered such rich, complicated, fascinating characters in a long time, and their voices continue to resonate.
March 17, 2017
It's probably too damned long, the tile is maddening, the author is stubborn in her determination to tell you EVERYTHING, and yet this book works like crazy. Not only does the reader experience the racial divide in America in no uncertain terms, but she also experiences the racial closeness. A anyhow, none of the characters--white or black--is just about race. There is love, both gay and straight. There are generations, reeling with the impact of ever-greater freedom, or at least mobility, the further away everyone gets from the Jim Crow south. There are family estrangements so painful in their long-term effects that this reader was led to re-experience her own. There are scenes written from children's points of view that simply bounce with a five-year old's delight, a twelve-year old's pain, a teenagers doomed desire to excel, a young woman's weariness as she settles for husband, children, abuse. There is a wild freedom in even a partial escape into education and the joyful sexual expression of a single woman's life. And there is the nature of speech itself--children's speech, accented speech, working-class speech. And there is the lack of speech--on top of all this, deafness is a big aspect of this tome, and this reader, at least, learned a lot. Tolystoyan in its scope, this novel is not to be missed, at least by those of us who like sprawling family sagas located in our own time.
March 5, 2017
Though this book is a commitment at over 800 pages and often times covering some horrific situations, I found myself dragging my feet to finish only because I never wanted this beautiful, tragic, complex and layered story to end. I am an avid and constant reader and would rate this in the top five books I've ever read. Kudos to this incredibly talented woman for such an achievement--I can't wait to see what she comes up with for a second book! I don't need to rehash the summary, but only want to recommend this to everyone I know.
May 25, 2016
I think Kia Corthron will write a great book...sadly, this isn't it. It's powerful but the flaws add up by the time you get to the end and the final coincidence was too much for me. Corthron got so much right though, and the parts that were good were utterly compelling. I look forward to reading what she writes in the future.
November 27, 2016
My rating is 5 stars for the beginning of the book, 2 or 3 for the last half or so, averaged up a bit for reasons unrelated to the book itself, perhaps. (That is, this was a nice hefty book to read during the presidential election and its aftermath.)
I thought the book was much stronger when written in first person. Mastering switches in narration is a hard job and either this book didn't do it right or I just wasn't feeling it. The 3rd person narration felt too bogged down in telling rather than showing. Corthron should have stuck to her strong dialog skills, in my opinion. The last bit of the book (if I remember the sequence correctly) was perhaps the weakest as far as the plot goes, swinging from incredible violence to a conclusion that was just a little too convenient. This isn't to say that I think that kind of violence has no place in a book like this - it was totally appropriate, even though it was hard to read. The event just didn't fit with the rest of the plot - but in a confusing way, not in a "ooh, a twist!" way.
All of this said... this was a worthwhile read.
I thought the book was much stronger when written in first person. Mastering switches in narration is a hard job and either this book didn't do it right or I just wasn't feeling it. The 3rd person narration felt too bogged down in telling rather than showing. Corthron should have stuck to her strong dialog skills, in my opinion. The last bit of the book (if I remember the sequence correctly) was perhaps the weakest as far as the plot goes, swinging from incredible violence to a conclusion that was just a little too convenient. This isn't to say that I think that kind of violence has no place in a book like this - it was totally appropriate, even though it was hard to read. The event just didn't fit with the rest of the plot - but in a confusing way, not in a "ooh, a twist!" way.
All of this said... this was a worthwhile read.
August 19, 2025
It's a little early in the year to proclaim this my Best Novel of 2017, but I'm sure it would be a contender. I am stunned by this amazing almost-800-page novel. By the author's use of language. By her imagination. By the plot. By how real the people are. I really can't do justice to this book. I'll quote from a review:
Kia Corthron has written a magnificent, truly epic tale of the American Century told through the lives of two families, four brothers, three generations, big movements and small moments. It deserves a place among the great American novels precisely because it cuts to the very heart of America: the color line. In vivid, often breathtaking language, she reveals a changing world where love and sex and violence can rain down in the same cloudburst, and laughter and terror mingle easily, where the color line is not merely a barrier but a jump rope, a noose, a sign, and above all a tether that binds her characters and this country together.
–Robin D. G. Kelley, author of Thelonious Monk:
The Life and Times of an American Original
Kia Corthron has written a magnificent, truly epic tale of the American Century told through the lives of two families, four brothers, three generations, big movements and small moments. It deserves a place among the great American novels precisely because it cuts to the very heart of America: the color line. In vivid, often breathtaking language, she reveals a changing world where love and sex and violence can rain down in the same cloudburst, and laughter and terror mingle easily, where the color line is not merely a barrier but a jump rope, a noose, a sign, and above all a tether that binds her characters and this country together.
–Robin D. G. Kelley, author of Thelonious Monk:
The Life and Times of an American Original
January 12, 2022
This has been on my bucket list for a very long time when I realized I’m not a huge reader of “great American classics”. I did not stop reading this book for four days straight. The journey was beautiful.
Corthon is an amazing storyteller, weaving the history of racism and its brutality mixed with southern culture into the life stories of 2 sets of brothers. I love being immersed in a novel. The beauty and intensity of the writing is SO powerful - I am completely transported into the story, moved by the language and dialogue. The plot was beautifully drawn with complex characters and lots of twists and turns that I didn’t see coming. It was a devastating story but at times felt joyful through Carthon’s writing. I always love a story when its unfiltered tragedies tangles amongst the small precious victories of life and the lives of the characters. It’s once again reinforcing/changing my world view on the wrongs of our society and that even those are treated with a grudging acceptance of our flawed humanity.
It is definitely not a light beach read. I found the characters are so real it feels as if the reader is participating in their lives - brutal and eye opening. I will probably never be able to re-read it but I am so very glad I have tackle it on my list.
Corthon is an amazing storyteller, weaving the history of racism and its brutality mixed with southern culture into the life stories of 2 sets of brothers. I love being immersed in a novel. The beauty and intensity of the writing is SO powerful - I am completely transported into the story, moved by the language and dialogue. The plot was beautifully drawn with complex characters and lots of twists and turns that I didn’t see coming. It was a devastating story but at times felt joyful through Carthon’s writing. I always love a story when its unfiltered tragedies tangles amongst the small precious victories of life and the lives of the characters. It’s once again reinforcing/changing my world view on the wrongs of our society and that even those are treated with a grudging acceptance of our flawed humanity.
It is definitely not a light beach read. I found the characters are so real it feels as if the reader is participating in their lives - brutal and eye opening. I will probably never be able to re-read it but I am so very glad I have tackle it on my list.
July 8, 2019
As others have noted, Kia Cothron’s book is a masterpiece. Brilliant language and dialogue, unforgettable characters, and a complex narrative arc all inform this magnificent historical novel. The last hundred pages broke me open.
March 8, 2022
Phenomenal book - the characters will live with me, unforgettable. This book helps me make sense of the non-sense, and the violence, of white supremacy, misogyny, ableism, homophobia and capitalism. As a human rights researcher and advocate, I document these systems and their impacts, but stories like this novel are so much more powerful at a heart-felt level … and worlds more interesting. In the face of violence, in this novel, we also witness compassion, love and solidarity at both the personal and collective levels. Monstrous acts and courageous acts, bigotry and love, both always in play. I see that Kia Corthron has a new novel. I can’t wait to read it - and her plays. This review is testament to how much I enjoyed The Castle Cross The Magnet Carter. It is the first time I’ve gone to the effort of writing a review, having been so moved by this novel. I found the bigotry and violence in some chapters difficult to read, but I figured if the author could research and write those, I could read them, and I did. I was reading Resmaa Menakem’s excellent book My Grandmother’s Hands at the same time, which helped, and I took time for both books, not rushing either one.
January 22, 2022
Really enjoyed this. The building up of the links between the characters, with various emotionally devastating deaths culminating in a horrific moment of realisation as Randall and Eliot’s stories coincided- I was unable to put it down as it neared a climax.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 30, 2021
This was a truly remarkable read -- it could have been twice as long and I would have relished it!
February 7, 2017
The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter Add my praise and wonder to Kia Corthron’s sweeping first novel that begins in 1940 and ends in 2010. The story of two sets of brothers from whose perspective the personal history unfolds was spellbinding. Race plays a wrenching role here.
The first pair of brothers were white and lived in Alabama. The older one, B.J., was deaf and in the 1940s his opportunities were sorely limited. His younger brother, Randall, helped him to learn sign language and to read. As a child, Randall was unusually smart, curious, and kind. For him, social acceptance was available, or seemed so, and was thus irresistible.
The other pair of brothers were black and just as talented, keen to learn, and engaging. They grew up Maryland. The older brother, Dwight, was artistically gifted and socially active. The younger brother, Eliot, was sensitive, eager, and admired Dwight.
All four brothers were promising and intriguing. But by 1960, individual fault lines had driven both pairs apart. To me, the separate fates of such talented children were unsettling, although true to life. As adults, none of the brothers knew how to forgive or even address the guilt or blame after hurting each other.
Randall’s capitulation into racism, required for social acceptance (and heightened by school integration and voter registration), ruined his natural gifts and vastly diminished his life.
The expansive novel stayed with its characters and never diverged into analysis. Yet it showed me more than I imagined about race in the United State. (And I imagine a lot.) In the early 1960s, Eliot was a young Civil Right lawyer contending with appalling, even surreal double standards for black people. Among the novel’s other achievements, it made the grotesque, raw hatred of another person because of skin color devastatingly real.
In a museum, I’ve seen the postcard (or a facsimile) that Eliot found when researching lynching—a faded photograph of a burned body hanging from a tree limb and the inscription on back, “This is the weekend barbecue we had last night...” It’s something I’ll never forget.
Corthron’s novel, however, drew me straight into the atrocity. I fell among the witnesses. Yet, once the scenes became real to me, I saw why people like Eliot and his colleagues never gave up.
Some legal cases were won after arduous appeals. Many failed. Yet the sheer weight of failed cases, constant pleas, faith in procedure, and the people who withstood hardship and indignity when trying to register to vote only to be turned away—let alone the countless martyrs subjected to medieval tortures before being allowed to die--eventually changed enough minds and hearts to affect laws at that time.
This miracle of what failed action and tragedy achieved came to fruition in the novel’s chapters during the 1970s; 1983; 1960 Redux; and finally 2010.
As for what’s happening now? We need to emulate the people who gave their all, apparently for nothing. Because thanks to them, sometimes people of different colors and heritages have united.
Time proved an equalizer. The characters lived or died with unforeseen purpose. Dwight, who was homosexual, overcame drug addiction and the loss of his lover to AIDS. B.J.’s life was, in fact, enlarged and enriched because he was deaf, always learning, and honest.
It’s rare for fiction to take on such a vast historical-political scope. The author manages this magnificently, in keeping with extraordinary, but flawed (which is to say human) characters. The country would be a better place if everyone who can read participated in this novel.
The first pair of brothers were white and lived in Alabama. The older one, B.J., was deaf and in the 1940s his opportunities were sorely limited. His younger brother, Randall, helped him to learn sign language and to read. As a child, Randall was unusually smart, curious, and kind. For him, social acceptance was available, or seemed so, and was thus irresistible.
The other pair of brothers were black and just as talented, keen to learn, and engaging. They grew up Maryland. The older brother, Dwight, was artistically gifted and socially active. The younger brother, Eliot, was sensitive, eager, and admired Dwight.
All four brothers were promising and intriguing. But by 1960, individual fault lines had driven both pairs apart. To me, the separate fates of such talented children were unsettling, although true to life. As adults, none of the brothers knew how to forgive or even address the guilt or blame after hurting each other.
Randall’s capitulation into racism, required for social acceptance (and heightened by school integration and voter registration), ruined his natural gifts and vastly diminished his life.
The expansive novel stayed with its characters and never diverged into analysis. Yet it showed me more than I imagined about race in the United State. (And I imagine a lot.) In the early 1960s, Eliot was a young Civil Right lawyer contending with appalling, even surreal double standards for black people. Among the novel’s other achievements, it made the grotesque, raw hatred of another person because of skin color devastatingly real.
In a museum, I’ve seen the postcard (or a facsimile) that Eliot found when researching lynching—a faded photograph of a burned body hanging from a tree limb and the inscription on back, “This is the weekend barbecue we had last night...” It’s something I’ll never forget.
Corthron’s novel, however, drew me straight into the atrocity. I fell among the witnesses. Yet, once the scenes became real to me, I saw why people like Eliot and his colleagues never gave up.
Some legal cases were won after arduous appeals. Many failed. Yet the sheer weight of failed cases, constant pleas, faith in procedure, and the people who withstood hardship and indignity when trying to register to vote only to be turned away—let alone the countless martyrs subjected to medieval tortures before being allowed to die--eventually changed enough minds and hearts to affect laws at that time.
This miracle of what failed action and tragedy achieved came to fruition in the novel’s chapters during the 1970s; 1983; 1960 Redux; and finally 2010.
As for what’s happening now? We need to emulate the people who gave their all, apparently for nothing. Because thanks to them, sometimes people of different colors and heritages have united.
Time proved an equalizer. The characters lived or died with unforeseen purpose. Dwight, who was homosexual, overcame drug addiction and the loss of his lover to AIDS. B.J.’s life was, in fact, enlarged and enriched because he was deaf, always learning, and honest.
It’s rare for fiction to take on such a vast historical-political scope. The author manages this magnificently, in keeping with extraordinary, but flawed (which is to say human) characters. The country would be a better place if everyone who can read participated in this novel.
May 21, 2017
Kia Corthron, in her first novel, has created a clear eyed, violent account of race, bigotry, poverty and hatred in America. These destructive forces overwhelm the goodness and promise that we see in the four men she documents. Randall and BJ are white brothers raised in rural Alabama, and Eliot and Dwight are black brothers raised in small town Baltimore. They are all impacted by racism, poverty and lost opportunity, but in very different ways and with tragic effect.
I loved the early chapters where Corthron shows us the lives of the 4 boys through their own eyes. One scene featuring Dwight, Eliot and his adopted cat Parker will remain with me for a long time. The early chapters are where this book is the most novel-like. As the characters become adults, it seemed as if Corthron the screenwriter took over, and I felt distant from the characters. Corthron had a lot of ground to cover, but it seemed like she moved away from showing us their lives and motivations and moved to telling us what happened to her characters. I also quibble a little with the Hollywood-style ending.
There is a lot of violence in this book, and many passages are difficult to read. However, the violence is the inevitable outcome of the lives and backgrounds of the four brothers. Corthron is able to, if not draw sympathy, at least create some understanding of the main culprit of the violence.
I loved the early chapters where Corthron shows us the lives of the 4 boys through their own eyes. One scene featuring Dwight, Eliot and his adopted cat Parker will remain with me for a long time. The early chapters are where this book is the most novel-like. As the characters become adults, it seemed as if Corthron the screenwriter took over, and I felt distant from the characters. Corthron had a lot of ground to cover, but it seemed like she moved away from showing us their lives and motivations and moved to telling us what happened to her characters. I also quibble a little with the Hollywood-style ending.
There is a lot of violence in this book, and many passages are difficult to read. However, the violence is the inevitable outcome of the lives and backgrounds of the four brothers. Corthron is able to, if not draw sympathy, at least create some understanding of the main culprit of the violence.
March 16, 2016
This novel is about brothers, race, and lynching.
The criticisms: It could use some paring down. There's LOTS of detail, LOADS of people, it gets wearisome at times.
The time jumps were a great way to advance the story but were occasionally difficult to catch up with. Like starting the novel over again. Probably user error.
Belabored the point a bit?
I could not read the pivotal violent scene near the end.
That the character's lives intertwined was clever, but the last coincidence strained credulity.
The praise: Wonderfully written. Engaging.
Worth the price of admission? I don't know. Read the blurbs and try it out. Certainly this is a writer to reckon with. But this is no beach read.
The criticisms: It could use some paring down. There's LOTS of detail, LOADS of people, it gets wearisome at times.
The time jumps were a great way to advance the story but were occasionally difficult to catch up with. Like starting the novel over again. Probably user error.
Belabored the point a bit?
I could not read the pivotal violent scene near the end.
That the character's lives intertwined was clever, but the last coincidence strained credulity.
The praise: Wonderfully written. Engaging.
Worth the price of admission? I don't know. Read the blurbs and try it out. Certainly this is a writer to reckon with. But this is no beach read.
March 4, 2016
Superb. Magnificent. A soaring achievement. Searing and humane and deep. The first third is a tour de force of POV innovation, the middle third powerfully affecting, the final third absolutely shattering. The scope! The ambition! The power! Finest novel I've read in a long long time. A stunning contribution. An important book that should be read widely. For a longer commentary, see my blog Read Red: http://readwritered.blogspot.com/2016...
March 21, 2017
Words fail me. A stupendous, amazing, bona fide great American novel. Why isn't everyone talking about this book? I will give you that the title is off-putting, the horribly violent act at the heart of the book is upsetting to read, the coincidence at the end not quite believable. But this book is remarkable for several reasons, and its greatest achievement is probably that we have empathy for the human being who perpetrates a villainous act of racial violence on a character we love.
September 12, 2016
I just finished this book during my lunch break, and my heart feels too soft and bruised to go back to work. I'm amazed at Cothron's skill in weaving together the strands of history and plot across so many years. I see some reviewers saying the book was a little long, but I didn't mind; I was happy to spend that much longer in such good company.
December 19, 2016
This is an amazing book -- it gets a bit long, but please stick it out, it's so worth it!!!! Ms. Corthron is a powerhouse of a writer....
February 4, 2018
Life changing. Learned more about race in America from this book than I did in 18 years of formal schooling. Should be required reading for humans.
March 2, 2019
[[ASIN:1609806573 The Castle Cross The Magnet Carter: A Novel]] Add my praise and wonder to Kia Corthron’s sweeping first novel that begins in 1940 and ends in 2010. The story of two sets of brothers from whose perspective the personal history unfolds was spellbinding. Race plays a wrenching role here.
The first pair of brothers were white and lived in Alabama. The older one, B.J., as deaf and in the 1940s his opportunities were sorely limited. His younger brother, Randall, helped him to learn sign language and to read. As a child, Randall was smart, resourceful, and kind. For him, social acceptance was available, or seemed so, and was thus irresistible.
The other pair of brothers were black and just as smart and engaging. They grew up Maryland. The older brother, Dwight, was artistically gifted and had a series of friends, white and black. The younger brother, Eliot, was sensitive, eager, and a first-rate student like the older brother he admired.
All four brothers were promising and intriguing. But by 1960, individual fault lines had driven both pairs apart. To me, the separate fates of such extraordinary and upright children were unsettling, although true to life. As adults, none of the brothers knew how to forgive or even address the guilt or blame one had inadvertently inflicted upon the other.
Randall’s capitulation into racism, required for social acceptance (and heightened by school integration and voter registration), ruined his natural gifts and vastly diminished his potential.
The expansive novel stayed with its characters and never diverged into analysis. Yet it showed me more than I imagined about race in the United States. (And I imagine a lot.) By the early 1960s, Eliot became a young Civil Right lawyer contending with appalling, even surreal, double standards for black people compared to white. Among the novel’s other achievements, it made the grotesque, raw hatred of a person, because of skin color, devastatingly real.
In a museum, I’ve seen the postcard (or a facsimile) that Eliot found when researching lynching—a faded photograph of a burned body hanging from a tree limb and the inscription on back, “This is the weekend barbecue we had last night...” It’s something I’ll never forget. Corthron’s novel, however, drew me straight into the atrocity. I fell among the witnesses. Yet, close up to the horror, I realized why Eliot and his colleagues never gave up.
Some legal cases were won due to repeated appeals. But many failed. Those failed cases, however, along with faith in procedure, and the persistence of people who withstood hardship and indignity when trying to register to vote and only to be turned away—let alone the countless martyrs who suffered medieval tortures before being allowed to die—eventually changed enough minds and hearts to change the game.
As for what’s happening now? We need to emulate those who gave their all, apparently for nothing. Because thanks to them, sometimes people of different heritages and skin color have united. This miracle of failed actions compounded by brutal tragedies came to fruition in the characters' lives in the 1970s; 1983; a chapter called 1960 Redux; and finally 2010.
Time proved an equalizer. The brothers, their families, and loved ones all lived and died with unforeseen purpose. Dwight, who was homosexual, overcame drug addiction and the loss of his lover to AIDS. B.J.’s life was, in fact, enlarged and enriched because he was deaf, always learning, and honest.
It’s rare for fiction to recreate the historical-political scope of life. The author manages this magnificently, in keeping with extraordinary, albeit flawed (which is to say human) characters. The country would be a better place if everyone who reads participated in this novel.
The first pair of brothers were white and lived in Alabama. The older one, B.J., as deaf and in the 1940s his opportunities were sorely limited. His younger brother, Randall, helped him to learn sign language and to read. As a child, Randall was smart, resourceful, and kind. For him, social acceptance was available, or seemed so, and was thus irresistible.
The other pair of brothers were black and just as smart and engaging. They grew up Maryland. The older brother, Dwight, was artistically gifted and had a series of friends, white and black. The younger brother, Eliot, was sensitive, eager, and a first-rate student like the older brother he admired.
All four brothers were promising and intriguing. But by 1960, individual fault lines had driven both pairs apart. To me, the separate fates of such extraordinary and upright children were unsettling, although true to life. As adults, none of the brothers knew how to forgive or even address the guilt or blame one had inadvertently inflicted upon the other.
Randall’s capitulation into racism, required for social acceptance (and heightened by school integration and voter registration), ruined his natural gifts and vastly diminished his potential.
The expansive novel stayed with its characters and never diverged into analysis. Yet it showed me more than I imagined about race in the United States. (And I imagine a lot.) By the early 1960s, Eliot became a young Civil Right lawyer contending with appalling, even surreal, double standards for black people compared to white. Among the novel’s other achievements, it made the grotesque, raw hatred of a person, because of skin color, devastatingly real.
In a museum, I’ve seen the postcard (or a facsimile) that Eliot found when researching lynching—a faded photograph of a burned body hanging from a tree limb and the inscription on back, “This is the weekend barbecue we had last night...” It’s something I’ll never forget. Corthron’s novel, however, drew me straight into the atrocity. I fell among the witnesses. Yet, close up to the horror, I realized why Eliot and his colleagues never gave up.
Some legal cases were won due to repeated appeals. But many failed. Those failed cases, however, along with faith in procedure, and the persistence of people who withstood hardship and indignity when trying to register to vote and only to be turned away—let alone the countless martyrs who suffered medieval tortures before being allowed to die—eventually changed enough minds and hearts to change the game.
As for what’s happening now? We need to emulate those who gave their all, apparently for nothing. Because thanks to them, sometimes people of different heritages and skin color have united. This miracle of failed actions compounded by brutal tragedies came to fruition in the characters' lives in the 1970s; 1983; a chapter called 1960 Redux; and finally 2010.
Time proved an equalizer. The brothers, their families, and loved ones all lived and died with unforeseen purpose. Dwight, who was homosexual, overcame drug addiction and the loss of his lover to AIDS. B.J.’s life was, in fact, enlarged and enriched because he was deaf, always learning, and honest.
It’s rare for fiction to recreate the historical-political scope of life. The author manages this magnificently, in keeping with extraordinary, albeit flawed (which is to say human) characters. The country would be a better place if everyone who reads participated in this novel.
June 4, 2021
This novel is a true American epic. Following two sets of brothers from 1942 through 2010, it captures the hope and heartbreak of family life set against the backdrop of American life and society.
Randall and B.J. are white. They live in Prayer Ridge, AL. B.J. is the older brother, yet because of his deafness, he never went to school. At the start of the novel, he’s 18, illiterate, and his family has no concept of him as anything but a child who must be cared for. Randall, the younger brother, is just entering eighth grade. He dreams of going to college, but his father sees no point in education. Randall finds a book about Helen Keller at the school library. He teaches B.J. the manual alphabet, and that simple act, followed by B.J.’s learning to read, changes everything.
Meanwhile, Dwight and Eliot are black, living in Humble, MD. While their neighborhood is somewhat integrated, their school is not. Dwight is the older son, a talented artist but indifferent student. The younger brother is brilliantly intelligent, with a fully-developed sense of justice coupled with a sensitive nature that makes him prone to outbursts of intense emotion in situations that most other people simply shrug off. Neither boy chooses “typical” friends; Dwight mainly interacts with white boys, while Eliot befriends an old woman who lives in the house next door, sharing her compassion for cats, birds, and all the other small, tender things of life.
Both sets of brothers become estranged, and both sets are plunged into the American experience of the past sixty years—civil rights, AIDS, gentrification, the collapse of the American factory worker’s lifestyle, and the seeming preservation of certain small towns in amber even as the century and the millennium hurtle toward their close.
In many ways, this novel addresses similar themes and questions as To Kill a Mockingbird. Yet it does so with a scope, grandeur, and unflinching honesty that make for deeply moving and unforgettable reading. Rarely does an author create so many distinct, complicated, and compelling characters in a single book and carry their stories through such large stretches of time, place, and circumstance. It is also the rare author who can allow readers to see the “why” of a character’s formation with empathy when that character is shaped by cultural beliefs and expectations that cause him to act in ways that are devastating.
This book doesn’t ask readers to forgive or condone or understand. It only asks them to know, to realize, to become aware. It opens the way for readers to glimpse how a group of people responded to their times and the societal pressures and beliefs of those times. Then, as all great books must, it leaves the reader with the choice to continue responding to their own experience, asking: “Will you act/think as your parents did, or learn to stand on your own?” And: “Once you know what you believe, how will your beliefs shape your responses to the situations of other human beings?”
I listened to this book as read by Joe Wilson for the NLS Talking Book program. The narrator created such distinct voices for each character, not by doing any fancy inflection, but simply by reading the words the author had written and allowing those words to dictate the rhythms and cadences that emerged. I knew this was so at the beginning of the novel, when we are immersed in the lives of Randall and B.J.. But I realized there’d be no escaping this novel when the focus shifts to the hyperactive, hyperintelligent, childishly skewed viewpoint of six-year-old Eliot, whose introduction into our minds comes approximately like this:
“I got nine lives, I got nine lives, I got nine lives. I’m a cat. Meow!”
Please, read this book. These characters, these stories, these words … They’ll be with me for a lifetime.
Randall and B.J. are white. They live in Prayer Ridge, AL. B.J. is the older brother, yet because of his deafness, he never went to school. At the start of the novel, he’s 18, illiterate, and his family has no concept of him as anything but a child who must be cared for. Randall, the younger brother, is just entering eighth grade. He dreams of going to college, but his father sees no point in education. Randall finds a book about Helen Keller at the school library. He teaches B.J. the manual alphabet, and that simple act, followed by B.J.’s learning to read, changes everything.
Meanwhile, Dwight and Eliot are black, living in Humble, MD. While their neighborhood is somewhat integrated, their school is not. Dwight is the older son, a talented artist but indifferent student. The younger brother is brilliantly intelligent, with a fully-developed sense of justice coupled with a sensitive nature that makes him prone to outbursts of intense emotion in situations that most other people simply shrug off. Neither boy chooses “typical” friends; Dwight mainly interacts with white boys, while Eliot befriends an old woman who lives in the house next door, sharing her compassion for cats, birds, and all the other small, tender things of life.
Both sets of brothers become estranged, and both sets are plunged into the American experience of the past sixty years—civil rights, AIDS, gentrification, the collapse of the American factory worker’s lifestyle, and the seeming preservation of certain small towns in amber even as the century and the millennium hurtle toward their close.
In many ways, this novel addresses similar themes and questions as To Kill a Mockingbird. Yet it does so with a scope, grandeur, and unflinching honesty that make for deeply moving and unforgettable reading. Rarely does an author create so many distinct, complicated, and compelling characters in a single book and carry their stories through such large stretches of time, place, and circumstance. It is also the rare author who can allow readers to see the “why” of a character’s formation with empathy when that character is shaped by cultural beliefs and expectations that cause him to act in ways that are devastating.
This book doesn’t ask readers to forgive or condone or understand. It only asks them to know, to realize, to become aware. It opens the way for readers to glimpse how a group of people responded to their times and the societal pressures and beliefs of those times. Then, as all great books must, it leaves the reader with the choice to continue responding to their own experience, asking: “Will you act/think as your parents did, or learn to stand on your own?” And: “Once you know what you believe, how will your beliefs shape your responses to the situations of other human beings?”
I listened to this book as read by Joe Wilson for the NLS Talking Book program. The narrator created such distinct voices for each character, not by doing any fancy inflection, but simply by reading the words the author had written and allowing those words to dictate the rhythms and cadences that emerged. I knew this was so at the beginning of the novel, when we are immersed in the lives of Randall and B.J.. But I realized there’d be no escaping this novel when the focus shifts to the hyperactive, hyperintelligent, childishly skewed viewpoint of six-year-old Eliot, whose introduction into our minds comes approximately like this:
“I got nine lives, I got nine lives, I got nine lives. I’m a cat. Meow!”
Please, read this book. These characters, these stories, these words … They’ll be with me for a lifetime.
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