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Creatures of Passage
With echoes of Toni Morrison’s Beloved, Yejidé’s novel explores a forgotten quadrant of Washington, DC, and the ghosts that haunt it.
Nephthys Kinwell is a taxi driver of sorts in Washington, DC, ferrying ill-fated passengers in a haunted car: a 1967 Plymouth Belvedere with a ghost in the trunk. Endless rides and alcohol help her manage her grief over the death of her twin brother, Osiris, who was murdered and dumped in the Anacostia River.
Unknown to Nephthys when the novel opens in 1977, her estranged great-nephew, ten-year-old Dash, is finding himself drawn to the banks of that very same river. It is there that Dash--reeling from having witnessed an act of molestation at his school, but still questioning what and who he saw--has charmed conversations with a mysterious figure he calls the "River Man," who somehow appears each time he goes there.
When Dash arrives unexpectedly at Nephthys's door one day bearing a cryptic note about his unusual conversations with the River Man, Nephthys must face both the family she abandoned and what frightens her most when she looks in the mirror.
Creatures of Passage beautifully threads together the stories of Nephthys, Dash, and others both living and dead. Morowa Yejidé's deeply captivating novel shows us an unseen Washington filled with otherworldly landscapes, flawed super-humans, and reluctant ghosts, and brings together a community intent on saving one young boy in order to reclaim themselves.
Nephthys Kinwell is a taxi driver of sorts in Washington, DC, ferrying ill-fated passengers in a haunted car: a 1967 Plymouth Belvedere with a ghost in the trunk. Endless rides and alcohol help her manage her grief over the death of her twin brother, Osiris, who was murdered and dumped in the Anacostia River.
Unknown to Nephthys when the novel opens in 1977, her estranged great-nephew, ten-year-old Dash, is finding himself drawn to the banks of that very same river. It is there that Dash--reeling from having witnessed an act of molestation at his school, but still questioning what and who he saw--has charmed conversations with a mysterious figure he calls the "River Man," who somehow appears each time he goes there.
When Dash arrives unexpectedly at Nephthys's door one day bearing a cryptic note about his unusual conversations with the River Man, Nephthys must face both the family she abandoned and what frightens her most when she looks in the mirror.
Creatures of Passage beautifully threads together the stories of Nephthys, Dash, and others both living and dead. Morowa Yejidé's deeply captivating novel shows us an unseen Washington filled with otherworldly landscapes, flawed super-humans, and reluctant ghosts, and brings together a community intent on saving one young boy in order to reclaim themselves.
380 pages, Paperback
First published March 16, 2021
145 people are currently reading
6840 people want to read
About the author
Morowa Yejide
3 books124 followersMOROWA YEJIDÉ, a native of Washington, DC, is the author of the critically acclaimed novel Time of the Locust, which was a 2012 finalist for the PEN/Bellwether Prize, long-listed for the 2015 PEN/Bingham Prize, and a 2015 NAACP Image Award nominee. She lives in the DC area with her husband and three sons. Her most recent novel, Creatures of Passage, was shortlisted for Women's Prize, the Ernest J. Gaines Award for Literary Excellence, and a 2021 Notable Book selection by NPR and the Washington Post.
PRONUNCIATION: Mo-RO-wa YAY-je-DAY.
PRONUNCIATION: Mo-RO-wa YAY-je-DAY.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 313 reviews
December 11, 2023
Morowa Yejidé's Creatures of Passage is a novel featuring characters of Gullah descent, relocated from the Sea Islands to Anacostia in Washington, DC, a disinvested neighborhood at a low ebb in 1977 when the story is set. The novel is a master class in magical realism, incorporating echos of African mythology (Egyptian and Ethiopian references bleed into the text), confronted with contemporary American ills (racism, violence, poverty, alcoholism, child abuse), and layered with a Western African sense of storytelling that some commentators have seen as reminiscent of the griot/djeli tradition. The author has found inspiration in Toni Morrison and Gabriel García Márquez, influences that can be seen here. The sense of place in Anacostia is pitch perfect, reflecting a land, barely a square mile, that has passed through the dominion of other earthly realms before settling into a neglected corner of a capital that seeks to erase all prior history. Some may quibble with the pacing or other aspects of the storytelling - Yejidé may have an even better novel in her - but, for me, those quibbles miss the importance of Yejidé’s project, which is unobtrusively ambitious and may well embody the next direction in American literature.
October 11, 2021
Creatures of Passage by Morowa Yejide is a 2021 Akashic Books publication.
Nephthys Kinwell drives a haunted 1967 Plymouth. As she sits behind the wheel, the car will be enveloped in fog that allows Nephthys to taxi certain passengers to unique destinations.
Nephthys battles her own alcoholic demons, brought on by the death of her twin, and is recently made worse by her worries for her young grand- nephew, Dash, who talks to a ‘River Man’ no one else can see…
This book arrived in my mailbox just as I was lining up my lighter summer ‘beach’ reads. I tried reading the book twice during the summer, but both times I was unable to give the book the undivided attention it required.
As the temps cooled down, my mood changed accordingly, and I found this book calling to me again- and as they say- the third time was the charm.
The novel is not all that long- but it is a densely plotted novel with multiple threads, timeframe shifts, and a large cast of characters, which can be a little confusing if one isn’t paying close enough attention.
The writing doesn't appear at all cohesive, in the beginning, which added to my initial struggle- but once I grasped the connections, and the pieces began to click into place, I began to fall under the spell of the lush prose, and the building tension, which was mingled with an underlying melancholy.
The story is set in Washington, D.C.’s Anacostia neighborhood during the 70s - but in a re-imagined- world building manner. Those familiar with this area will certainly understand the author’s view- but for those unfamiliar with the neighborhood’s history, the imagery might not have the same impact.
This is a story centered around both the living and the dead. The novel visits, grief and anger, fear and pain, as well as criminal intent and dread.
The story strives for peace, healing, and understanding amid danger and the unknown. The language and various locations, worldly or otherwise, are mythical and entrancing. The atmosphere is often heavy and moody, but there’s a ray of hope for the characters I found myself quite concerned about, and for some there was long awaited peace.
I am still struggling with how to define this book. While surely, due to the supernatural nature of the story, it could be- and has been- categorized as horror- but while the story is scary, tense, and unsettling- this is not horror in the traditional sense-
Unless we put horror in the same frame as magic realism- which is where this book truly lands, in my opinion. It leans towards the spiritual and could fit right into the fantasy genre- but with a crime fiction element.
It's also technically a novel of historical fiction- but with the various shades of symbolism and allegory involved, the story has literary value, as well.
The book portrays America through both a realistic and fantastical lens, with spiritual battles leading the way to physical ones, taking the reader along for an epic, almost heart-stopping climax.
This small book packs a big punch. The author has a huge imagination. The writing, though very unconventional, is well-done. This novel is certainly different from anything else I’ve read in a good long while. I will be keeping my eye on this an author!!
4 stars
Nephthys Kinwell drives a haunted 1967 Plymouth. As she sits behind the wheel, the car will be enveloped in fog that allows Nephthys to taxi certain passengers to unique destinations.
Nephthys battles her own alcoholic demons, brought on by the death of her twin, and is recently made worse by her worries for her young grand- nephew, Dash, who talks to a ‘River Man’ no one else can see…
This book arrived in my mailbox just as I was lining up my lighter summer ‘beach’ reads. I tried reading the book twice during the summer, but both times I was unable to give the book the undivided attention it required.
As the temps cooled down, my mood changed accordingly, and I found this book calling to me again- and as they say- the third time was the charm.
The novel is not all that long- but it is a densely plotted novel with multiple threads, timeframe shifts, and a large cast of characters, which can be a little confusing if one isn’t paying close enough attention.
The writing doesn't appear at all cohesive, in the beginning, which added to my initial struggle- but once I grasped the connections, and the pieces began to click into place, I began to fall under the spell of the lush prose, and the building tension, which was mingled with an underlying melancholy.
The story is set in Washington, D.C.’s Anacostia neighborhood during the 70s - but in a re-imagined- world building manner. Those familiar with this area will certainly understand the author’s view- but for those unfamiliar with the neighborhood’s history, the imagery might not have the same impact.
This is a story centered around both the living and the dead. The novel visits, grief and anger, fear and pain, as well as criminal intent and dread.
The story strives for peace, healing, and understanding amid danger and the unknown. The language and various locations, worldly or otherwise, are mythical and entrancing. The atmosphere is often heavy and moody, but there’s a ray of hope for the characters I found myself quite concerned about, and for some there was long awaited peace.
I am still struggling with how to define this book. While surely, due to the supernatural nature of the story, it could be- and has been- categorized as horror- but while the story is scary, tense, and unsettling- this is not horror in the traditional sense-
Unless we put horror in the same frame as magic realism- which is where this book truly lands, in my opinion. It leans towards the spiritual and could fit right into the fantasy genre- but with a crime fiction element.
It's also technically a novel of historical fiction- but with the various shades of symbolism and allegory involved, the story has literary value, as well.
The book portrays America through both a realistic and fantastical lens, with spiritual battles leading the way to physical ones, taking the reader along for an epic, almost heart-stopping climax.
This small book packs a big punch. The author has a huge imagination. The writing, though very unconventional, is well-done. This novel is certainly different from anything else I’ve read in a good long while. I will be keeping my eye on this an author!!
4 stars
May 25, 2021
With prose that reads like poetry, this book was both heavy and amazing, terrifying and wonderful, fantastic and haunting--like Toni Morrison and Tananarive Due with a slash of Neil Gaiman. It will stay with me for a while.
April 23, 2022
I read this book due to its longlisting for the 2022 Women’s Prize.
It is perhaps one of the most ambitious but also difficult books on the longlist - a piece of literary fiction which draws on Egyptian mythology, horror and magic realism to deliver a distinctive but also a times troubling read (due to it not just dealing with the subject of child abuse - but allowing an abuser a series of third party point of view chapters where he recalls the way he groomed his victims).
The plot of the book is difficult to describe - but centres around the Anacostia neighbourhood of Washington DC in 1977 (note that I did feel much of the novel was wasted on someone like me with almost no familiarity with any of the areas described as this feels like a novel imbued not so much with a sense of place as one trying to describe and capture an alternative sense of a seemingly well known place).
Nephthys operates a nocturnal taxi service 1967 Plymouth Belvedere (again I felt having no idea what type of a car that was, detracted from my positioning an ideal reader) - one which she operates in a physical and metaphorical fog allowing her to anticipate where to pick up her passengers - typically the broken or endangered - at their time of greatest vulnerability or need. The taxi - sourced from a local scrap dealer and mystery solver Find Out - has the ghost of a young white girl in its trunk.
Nephthys is during the day a largely solitary alcoholic, in mourning for her twin brother Osiris (they were cojoined at birth by one finger) found seemingly murdered in the Anacostia River. Osiris’s daughter Amber lives in a nearby hollow with her 10-year-old son Dash - she has an ability to foresee deaths via dreams and is greatly fared by those in her neighborhood. Amber and Nephthys have fallen out since Osiris’s death due to the latter’s resentment that Amber seemed unable to foresee her father’s fate..
As the book opens Dash, deeply troubled both by something he witnessed at school and his mother’s clear implication that she has dreamt of his own fate, finds himself drawn to the river where he sees a mysterious figure, who he christens The River Man (and who we quickly identify). Meanwhile Amber agonises what she has dreamt and how to prevent it happening and Nephthys is drawn back into the life of her niece and great-nephew by a nurse at Dash’s school (with who Nephthys has her own troubled history) worried by his behaviour.
And linking many of these threads is the pernicious influence of the school caretaker.
I would say that what is impressive about the book is how the author manages to exhibit such mastery of what initially seems like a storyline expanding out of control. Ultimately very few of the book’s details do not prove subsequently significant (and even then it is to very deliberately signal unsolved or unknown mysteries - such as that which Find Out cannot find out). I would contrast this with another book on the Women’s Prize shortlist “This One Sky Day” which too often relies on adding gratuitous levels of magic.
The book is it has to be said is almost “mannered” and replete with “affectation”; with certain phrases and formulations recurring throughout the novel, many of them voiced by a very prominent omniscient narrator - some of which expose the thoughts of the characters but many of which are effectively commentaries on things the characters do not know.
Examples of the recurring phrases or formulations include:
The phrase “the unbearable inertia of one” to convey Nephthys's ennui as the last surviving twin
The concatenation of three words - sometimes by taking a familiar concept and removing spaces “winlosedraw” and sometimes creating a new one - most crucially to the book “signs omens bones”
The “Conundrum of Three” …. “where the mind sought the memory of a body long gone, and the body withdrew from the mind and the spirit, and the spirit chased the echo of the other two”
The often water-linked imagery of blues (particular Indigo - something which brings them back to her mother) as associated with Nephthys, and a far more fiery world (despite his designation by Dash) in which Osiris dwells (with the red imagery perhaps too obvious in the case of Dash’s father);
Comments on the “irony” to which “creatures of passage” are subject (when something either serendipitous or more commonly unlucky) occurs;
Narrator references to things which would either occur in society in future “Many years later” linked to tragedies in the book’s timeline (for example references to aids, to internet porn) or to things which happened in the past (typically in the same location as where the character are currently based) - all of which finish X “had no way of knowing this when” Y. Note that I think this idea is crucial to the book - the book itself mainly explores passage through the world and even into the world of the dead, but these sections remind us of the passage of time;
A recurring idea (which actually gives the book its Section structure) of the five ways in which creatures of passage die (“Moving through space”, “Staying in one place”, “Resigning life to another”, “Surrendering one’s life”, “Entering the void”);
The States of America are consistently referred to as Kingdoms - I must admit this idea did not really seem to work for me - the idea of Kingdoms seemed to suggest some form of more ancient tribal type identity and a rejection of the boundaries imposed by white settlers and slavers; but by using the names of the States (not just their designation) it felt like the opposite was implied. I think it would have worked better had the author had say drawn on Native/Indigenous names for territories. It is possible this draws on the West African origins of many of the protagonists who are heavily drawn from the Gullah People (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gullah) but here also I was struggling to match this with the heavy use of Egyptian mythology;
Overall I found this an interesting book an a good edition to the longlist despite its challenges and my own deficiencies as a reader.
It is perhaps one of the most ambitious but also difficult books on the longlist - a piece of literary fiction which draws on Egyptian mythology, horror and magic realism to deliver a distinctive but also a times troubling read (due to it not just dealing with the subject of child abuse - but allowing an abuser a series of third party point of view chapters where he recalls the way he groomed his victims).
The plot of the book is difficult to describe - but centres around the Anacostia neighbourhood of Washington DC in 1977 (note that I did feel much of the novel was wasted on someone like me with almost no familiarity with any of the areas described as this feels like a novel imbued not so much with a sense of place as one trying to describe and capture an alternative sense of a seemingly well known place).
Nephthys operates a nocturnal taxi service 1967 Plymouth Belvedere (again I felt having no idea what type of a car that was, detracted from my positioning an ideal reader) - one which she operates in a physical and metaphorical fog allowing her to anticipate where to pick up her passengers - typically the broken or endangered - at their time of greatest vulnerability or need. The taxi - sourced from a local scrap dealer and mystery solver Find Out - has the ghost of a young white girl in its trunk.
Nephthys is during the day a largely solitary alcoholic, in mourning for her twin brother Osiris (they were cojoined at birth by one finger) found seemingly murdered in the Anacostia River. Osiris’s daughter Amber lives in a nearby hollow with her 10-year-old son Dash - she has an ability to foresee deaths via dreams and is greatly fared by those in her neighborhood. Amber and Nephthys have fallen out since Osiris’s death due to the latter’s resentment that Amber seemed unable to foresee her father’s fate..
As the book opens Dash, deeply troubled both by something he witnessed at school and his mother’s clear implication that she has dreamt of his own fate, finds himself drawn to the river where he sees a mysterious figure, who he christens The River Man (and who we quickly identify). Meanwhile Amber agonises what she has dreamt and how to prevent it happening and Nephthys is drawn back into the life of her niece and great-nephew by a nurse at Dash’s school (with who Nephthys has her own troubled history) worried by his behaviour.
And linking many of these threads is the pernicious influence of the school caretaker.
I would say that what is impressive about the book is how the author manages to exhibit such mastery of what initially seems like a storyline expanding out of control. Ultimately very few of the book’s details do not prove subsequently significant (and even then it is to very deliberately signal unsolved or unknown mysteries - such as that which Find Out cannot find out). I would contrast this with another book on the Women’s Prize shortlist “This One Sky Day” which too often relies on adding gratuitous levels of magic.
The book is it has to be said is almost “mannered” and replete with “affectation”; with certain phrases and formulations recurring throughout the novel, many of them voiced by a very prominent omniscient narrator - some of which expose the thoughts of the characters but many of which are effectively commentaries on things the characters do not know.
Examples of the recurring phrases or formulations include:
The phrase “the unbearable inertia of one” to convey Nephthys's ennui as the last surviving twin
The concatenation of three words - sometimes by taking a familiar concept and removing spaces “winlosedraw” and sometimes creating a new one - most crucially to the book “signs omens bones”
The “Conundrum of Three” …. “where the mind sought the memory of a body long gone, and the body withdrew from the mind and the spirit, and the spirit chased the echo of the other two”
The often water-linked imagery of blues (particular Indigo - something which brings them back to her mother) as associated with Nephthys, and a far more fiery world (despite his designation by Dash) in which Osiris dwells (with the red imagery perhaps too obvious in the case of Dash’s father);
Comments on the “irony” to which “creatures of passage” are subject (when something either serendipitous or more commonly unlucky) occurs;
Narrator references to things which would either occur in society in future “Many years later” linked to tragedies in the book’s timeline (for example references to aids, to internet porn) or to things which happened in the past (typically in the same location as where the character are currently based) - all of which finish X “had no way of knowing this when” Y. Note that I think this idea is crucial to the book - the book itself mainly explores passage through the world and even into the world of the dead, but these sections remind us of the passage of time;
A recurring idea (which actually gives the book its Section structure) of the five ways in which creatures of passage die (“Moving through space”, “Staying in one place”, “Resigning life to another”, “Surrendering one’s life”, “Entering the void”);
The States of America are consistently referred to as Kingdoms - I must admit this idea did not really seem to work for me - the idea of Kingdoms seemed to suggest some form of more ancient tribal type identity and a rejection of the boundaries imposed by white settlers and slavers; but by using the names of the States (not just their designation) it felt like the opposite was implied. I think it would have worked better had the author had say drawn on Native/Indigenous names for territories. It is possible this draws on the West African origins of many of the protagonists who are heavily drawn from the Gullah People (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gullah) but here also I was struggling to match this with the heavy use of Egyptian mythology;
Overall I found this an interesting book an a good edition to the longlist despite its challenges and my own deficiencies as a reader.
July 27, 2023
4 stars and a small bag of haunted candy
This is how Creatures of Passage (humans) die...
1. moving through spaces
2. staying in one place
3. resigning life to another
4. surrendering one's life
5. entering the void
...and those are also the names and themes of the 5 sections of this novel.
We follow a set of middle-aged twins - Osiris and Nephthys - named for two gods in the central ancient Egyptian myth of Isis & Osiris through a magical, haunted Washington DC of 1977.
In mythology, Nephthys is a goddess of the night and mourning. In the novel, she's the alcoholic driver of a haunted 1967 Plymouth spiriting lost, grieving people across the city like a sort of divine cab driver. She herself cannot move past the death of her twin, Osiris, and so understands the inability of her passengers to change their problematic circumstances.
In mythology, Osiris was a king who was deceived, murdered and finally resurrected into the realm of the dead. In the novel, he fends off the unwanted attentions of a woman only to be murdered by her jealous husband and dumped in the Anacostia river.
From there we follow Osiris' journey as a ghost through his own personal underworld, watch him come to terms with his murder and avoid the traps that lay in wait for ghosts who cannot let go. (Here we have some nods to the tricky "hall of mirrors" quality of the Egyptian Duat.)
As we are told in the novel, "death is just another form of living". All of the characters in the story are ghosts - living or dead - biding their time in the Underworld of their own making until they are released by circumstance or time.
That's what this novel does so wonderfully - the magical realism and the hauntings. The ghost world and fantasy is lush and powerful, described in a highly poetic way, verging at times on purple prose.
What the story does much less well, are the repetitions and the political asides.
I'm a big fan of omniscient narrators who tell us what happened in the distant past and what will happen in the distant future. But for my taste, Ms Yejide rather bungles the possibilities, making the past references exclusively about slavery and genocide at the hands of Whites (this is true, but quite narrowly focused), and the future comments mostly personal quips about the political landscape of our current era.
The novel has both a micro and a macro plot.
The micro plot is the magical realism one about Osiris and Nephthys, which is told episodically. There is no real linear movement forward and seems rather mandering at times.
The macro plot is about a traumatised Set-like menace who stalks the area in search of his trauma-calming prey.
(Set is the Egyptian god of the Chaos of the Western Desert. Some see him rather simplistically as a god of evil, but there is no solid evidence for this historically. You'd have to understand the Egyptian notion of Order vs Chaos/Nile Valley vs Desert to get the whole picture. Not a bad fit to the character of Mercy Ratchet, but a bit too superficially done. Oh man, don't get me started on ancient Egyptian theology, we'll be here all day...)
This macro plot I found to be terribly mundane and and rather uninteresting, and - yet again - containing a very clear socio-political statement. This time not about politics per se, but about .
Taken all together, this novel is a flawed jewel. Well worth the read for the take on the mythology, the trips though a magical Washington DC and the excellent hauntings. Just overlook anything involving Set....I mean Mercy Ratchet!
This is how Creatures of Passage (humans) die...
1. moving through spaces
2. staying in one place
3. resigning life to another
4. surrendering one's life
5. entering the void
...and those are also the names and themes of the 5 sections of this novel.
We follow a set of middle-aged twins - Osiris and Nephthys - named for two gods in the central ancient Egyptian myth of Isis & Osiris through a magical, haunted Washington DC of 1977.
In mythology, Nephthys is a goddess of the night and mourning. In the novel, she's the alcoholic driver of a haunted 1967 Plymouth spiriting lost, grieving people across the city like a sort of divine cab driver. She herself cannot move past the death of her twin, Osiris, and so understands the inability of her passengers to change their problematic circumstances.
In mythology, Osiris was a king who was deceived, murdered and finally resurrected into the realm of the dead. In the novel, he fends off the unwanted attentions of a woman only to be murdered by her jealous husband and dumped in the Anacostia river.
From there we follow Osiris' journey as a ghost through his own personal underworld, watch him come to terms with his murder and avoid the traps that lay in wait for ghosts who cannot let go. (Here we have some nods to the tricky "hall of mirrors" quality of the Egyptian Duat.)
As we are told in the novel, "death is just another form of living". All of the characters in the story are ghosts - living or dead - biding their time in the Underworld of their own making until they are released by circumstance or time.
That's what this novel does so wonderfully - the magical realism and the hauntings. The ghost world and fantasy is lush and powerful, described in a highly poetic way, verging at times on purple prose.
What the story does much less well, are the repetitions and the political asides.
I'm a big fan of omniscient narrators who tell us what happened in the distant past and what will happen in the distant future. But for my taste, Ms Yejide rather bungles the possibilities, making the past references exclusively about slavery and genocide at the hands of Whites (this is true, but quite narrowly focused), and the future comments mostly personal quips about the political landscape of our current era.
The novel has both a micro and a macro plot.
The micro plot is the magical realism one about Osiris and Nephthys, which is told episodically. There is no real linear movement forward and seems rather mandering at times.
The macro plot is about a traumatised Set-like menace who stalks the area in search of his trauma-calming prey.
(Set is the Egyptian god of the Chaos of the Western Desert. Some see him rather simplistically as a god of evil, but there is no solid evidence for this historically. You'd have to understand the Egyptian notion of Order vs Chaos/Nile Valley vs Desert to get the whole picture. Not a bad fit to the character of Mercy Ratchet, but a bit too superficially done. Oh man, don't get me started on ancient Egyptian theology, we'll be here all day...)
This macro plot I found to be terribly mundane and and rather uninteresting, and - yet again - containing a very clear socio-political statement. This time not about politics per se, but about .
Taken all together, this novel is a flawed jewel. Well worth the read for the take on the mythology, the trips though a magical Washington DC and the excellent hauntings. Just overlook anything involving Set....I mean Mercy Ratchet!
April 3, 2022
Wonderous.
4.5* rounded up.
4.5* rounded up.
April 21, 2022
I admire novels that can so seamlessly blend supernatural elements with the real world to give a new view. In “Creatures of Passage” factors such as hauntings, shapeshifting, the afterlife and psychic powers are presented as entirely natural states of being which are part of these characters' everyday reality. They are represented with as much weight as difficult concrete issues such as alcoholism, poverty, drug abuse, child abuse and racial inequality. By doing so Morowa Yejide conveys the powerful sense and viewpoint of a disenfranchised community while also relating an extremely compelling and creative story. The novel is set in the late 1970s and at its centre is Nephthys Kinwell who provides a form of taxi service in Washington DC. However, her passengers don't summon her with an app or hail her by the roadside. Instead she senses how they are at a volatile place and in need so she drives them from one place to the next. At the same time, she's burdened with the loss of her twin brother who was killed in a racist attack and she continuously drinks from a hip flask. When she gets an unexpected visit from her great-nephew Dash, she discovers there might be a way to save this boy from a dire fate that's been foretold and reconnect with her lost sibling Osiris. Along the way we meet a number of her distressed passengers and learn about a twisted individual who has been persistently preying on vulnerable children in the community. It's an extremely solemn and disquieting tale whose wondrous elements build their own logic to give an utterly unique perspective.
Read my full review of Creatures of Passage by Morowa Yejide at LonesomeReader
Read my full review of Creatures of Passage by Morowa Yejide at LonesomeReader
April 17, 2022
This is a ghost story set in 1970s Washington DC. Nephthys Kinwell is still reeling from the violent murder of her twin brother Osiris. She drinks to cope with the pain, and drives an old Plymouth around the neighborhood, ferrying troubled spirits to wherever they want to go. Meanwhile the spectre of a dead white girl makes tapping noises in the trunk. A supernatural streak runs in the family. Her niece Amber receives visions of the near future, while Amber's son Dash has seen a make-believe man down by the river, something his schoolfriends tease him about. And Osiris' soul won't rest until he wreaks vengeance on the racists who lynched him and dumped his body.
There is a melancholic tone to this Women's Prize nominated tale. It draws heavily on Egyptian mythology and I must admit that most of those references went over my head. I found it hard to connect to the story - the line between fantasy and reality is quite blurred, and I need something more tangible for me to become immersed. I liked how the novel explored the margins of society and gave us a haunting, vivid portrayal of a city that is famous for other reasons. However, magical realism is not a genre I typically enjoy and I'm afraid that also applies here. Creatures of Passage is well-written and I can see why it has been widely acclaimed. It just wasn't for me.
There is a melancholic tone to this Women's Prize nominated tale. It draws heavily on Egyptian mythology and I must admit that most of those references went over my head. I found it hard to connect to the story - the line between fantasy and reality is quite blurred, and I need something more tangible for me to become immersed. I liked how the novel explored the margins of society and gave us a haunting, vivid portrayal of a city that is famous for other reasons. However, magical realism is not a genre I typically enjoy and I'm afraid that also applies here. Creatures of Passage is well-written and I can see why it has been widely acclaimed. It just wasn't for me.
January 23, 2021
I have mixed feelings about this one. I appreciated the moments of beauty that I found in this book but at times I became completely lost about what it was saying. I knew going in that it was a ghost story with elements of fantasy but I had no idea how extensive that fantasy would be. Half way through, I really began to struggle to continue. I think there will be an audience for this book but I can’t recommend it as a book I truly enjoyed.
May 1, 2022
Longlisted for the 2022 Women's Prize For Fiction
Vessel
Nephthys set out over the longitudes and latitudes of the Great Mystery, the ironclad vessel her only means, the shifting fog her only guide…
In the archipelagic dawn, Nephthys sat at the steering wheel of her car parked under a broken streetlamp outside of her apartment building. For the past three days, she’d been in her living room letting time slip by, drinking and raging at memories, searching for missing bottles and finding them again. She fell into slumber and came to, and in between she thought about the visit from Dash, which was difficult because that meant she had to think about Amber. They hadn’t spoken in so long—she and her niece—and even though she lived just on the opposite side of Anacostia, it might as well have been the other side of the galaxy. Nephthys never had made up her mind about how to deal with the canyon between them, a divide that started with dreams and death. And she splashed and swam in what she’d been drinking to ease her feelings of guilt and the unbearable inertia of one.
Creatures of Passage is an ambitious novel published by two small independent presses:
In the UK, Jacaranda Books is an award-winning, diverse-owned independent publisher and bookseller, ... dedicated to promoting and celebrating brilliant diverse literature, one of those awards the UK's finest, The Republic of Consciousness Prize.
And in the US, Akashic Books a Brooklyn-based independent company dedicated to publishing urban literary fiction and political nonfiction by authors who are either ignored by the mainstream, or who have no interest in working within the ever-consolidating ranks of the major corporate publishers.
The novel has drawn comparison to Toni Morrison and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, including from the author herself, who when asked for her foundational or “guiding light” authors in respect of this novel replied:
But Morowa Yejide gives the novel a strong tamp of her own, throwing ancient Egyptian religion in to the mix as well as her own unique mythology.
She also makes the brave decision to write from the perspective of an abusee turned abuser and indeed murderer:
And in the loneliness of his thoughts, Mercy knew—as all the neglected do—that indifference was an insidious poison, a slow drip into the mind and the heart. And each act of cruelty to himself or someone else was a hopeless helpless cry to the Void that the indifference and the lightlessness made: I am. I exist.
I have to admit the novel, at over 300 pages, was a little long for my tastes and I found the ending a little too neat. The novel suffers a little from being on the same list as a masterpiece of magic realism This One Sky Day, but nevertheless a worthy inclusion on the longlist.
3.5 stars rounded to 4 for now for the ambition.
Vessel
Nephthys set out over the longitudes and latitudes of the Great Mystery, the ironclad vessel her only means, the shifting fog her only guide…
In the archipelagic dawn, Nephthys sat at the steering wheel of her car parked under a broken streetlamp outside of her apartment building. For the past three days, she’d been in her living room letting time slip by, drinking and raging at memories, searching for missing bottles and finding them again. She fell into slumber and came to, and in between she thought about the visit from Dash, which was difficult because that meant she had to think about Amber. They hadn’t spoken in so long—she and her niece—and even though she lived just on the opposite side of Anacostia, it might as well have been the other side of the galaxy. Nephthys never had made up her mind about how to deal with the canyon between them, a divide that started with dreams and death. And she splashed and swam in what she’d been drinking to ease her feelings of guilt and the unbearable inertia of one.
Creatures of Passage is an ambitious novel published by two small independent presses:
In the UK, Jacaranda Books is an award-winning, diverse-owned independent publisher and bookseller, ... dedicated to promoting and celebrating brilliant diverse literature, one of those awards the UK's finest, The Republic of Consciousness Prize.
And in the US, Akashic Books a Brooklyn-based independent company dedicated to publishing urban literary fiction and political nonfiction by authors who are either ignored by the mainstream, or who have no interest in working within the ever-consolidating ranks of the major corporate publishers.
The novel has drawn comparison to Toni Morrison and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, including from the author herself, who when asked for her foundational or “guiding light” authors in respect of this novel replied:
I think my love painting the African American community in all its complexity comes from Toni Morrison. My fascination with magical realism as a way to explain the “unexplainable” comes from Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I have deep respect for the incredible imagery in text of Cormac McCarthy and the symmetry of Faulkner in his storytelling.
But Morowa Yejide gives the novel a strong tamp of her own, throwing ancient Egyptian religion in to the mix as well as her own unique mythology.
She also makes the brave decision to write from the perspective of an abusee turned abuser and indeed murderer:
And in the loneliness of his thoughts, Mercy knew—as all the neglected do—that indifference was an insidious poison, a slow drip into the mind and the heart. And each act of cruelty to himself or someone else was a hopeless helpless cry to the Void that the indifference and the lightlessness made: I am. I exist.
I have to admit the novel, at over 300 pages, was a little long for my tastes and I found the ending a little too neat. The novel suffers a little from being on the same list as a masterpiece of magic realism This One Sky Day, but nevertheless a worthy inclusion on the longlist.
3.5 stars rounded to 4 for now for the ambition.
March 3, 2025
Check out the
authors I was excited to discover
in 2024.
This book also features in my BookTube deep dive on the weirdest Women's Prize nominees . 👀
"And the damnation and glory of man was forever intertwined in Anacostia, since all who lived there were faced with the unconquerable presence of both."
This book took me completely by surprise. It's the kind of book that weaves together several disparate threads until it arrives at a gut-punch conclusion that leaves your jaw on the floor. (That ending was so satisfying.)
With scenes rendered in lurid prose, Yejidé escorts readers from the fog-filled streets of 1970s Washington, D.C. to the fiery realms of the underworld.
The story opens with a woman named Nephthys, who ferries passengers around Washington D.C. in her 1967 Plymouth Belvedere (which, incidentally, has a restless ghost in its trunk). It also follows a murdered man through the underworld, as well as a little boy who can see ghosts.
Ultimately, it's the story of a community haunted by ghosts, predators, and the legacy of racism in America.
Yejidé employs magical realism and African mythology to convey this incredible tale, one that I look forward to reading again someday.
This book also features in my BookTube deep dive on the weirdest Women's Prize nominees . 👀
"And the damnation and glory of man was forever intertwined in Anacostia, since all who lived there were faced with the unconquerable presence of both."
This book took me completely by surprise. It's the kind of book that weaves together several disparate threads until it arrives at a gut-punch conclusion that leaves your jaw on the floor. (That ending was so satisfying.)
With scenes rendered in lurid prose, Yejidé escorts readers from the fog-filled streets of 1970s Washington, D.C. to the fiery realms of the underworld.
The story opens with a woman named Nephthys, who ferries passengers around Washington D.C. in her 1967 Plymouth Belvedere (which, incidentally, has a restless ghost in its trunk). It also follows a murdered man through the underworld, as well as a little boy who can see ghosts.
Ultimately, it's the story of a community haunted by ghosts, predators, and the legacy of racism in America.
Yejidé employs magical realism and African mythology to convey this incredible tale, one that I look forward to reading again someday.
March 8, 2022
The novel is set in the South East quadrant of the city of Washington D.C. The part of the city not on the nightly news and a figuratively if not literally, world apart, from the federal enclave that most tourists know. I've lived either in the city proper or just over it's boundaries for over 40 years now so the locations mentioned in the novel are very familiar to me. It's always a pleasure to know that someone has taken to time to see and write about things that resonate with you. The novel is of the speculative/sci-fi genre but even so many character could jump off the pages and into our barber shops, churches, and street corners. The vivid urban portraits sparkle and throb with life. But the book concerns itself with the passages between life and death and the ghosts and people who inhabit those in-between spaces. The main protagonist operates a sort of jitney service that fills the transportation needs of the bereft and dispossessed. Her own family's story is also central to the plot.
I feel that I may not be the best reviewer because sci-fi is not my favorite genre and ghost stories in particular give me pause (ghosts, spirits, haints, and shapeshifters abound). And of course in a family there are children. I am very sensitive and try to avoid stories of child endangerment. Most but not all escape the clutches of adult deprivation and these scenes distracted from my reading pleasure. But if strong Black sci-fi (folkloric?) is your preferred reading, I would strongly recommend it.
P.S. I raised my star rating from 3 to 4 because three weeks later I'm still thinking of and pondering the novel.
I feel that I may not be the best reviewer because sci-fi is not my favorite genre and ghost stories in particular give me pause (ghosts, spirits, haints, and shapeshifters abound). And of course in a family there are children. I am very sensitive and try to avoid stories of child endangerment. Most but not all escape the clutches of adult deprivation and these scenes distracted from my reading pleasure. But if strong Black sci-fi (folkloric?) is your preferred reading, I would strongly recommend it.
P.S. I raised my star rating from 3 to 4 because three weeks later I'm still thinking of and pondering the novel.
Want to read
April 17, 2022Longlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction 2022
Sounds fascinating, let's dive in!
Sounds fascinating, let's dive in!
January 16, 2021
This book is skillfully written but sometimes takes off on whirlwind journeys that make it difficult to understand exactly what the author is actually trying to express. I have never before read anything by this author, but I do find that she is very good at bringing together a story that is both frightening as well as almost playful. The sum total is an unforgettable blurring of reality and genres. From the haunted Plymouth automobile to the mysteries in the fog in this alternate America and hidden Washington, DC filled with otherworldly landscapes… flawed super-humans…and reluctant ghosts, you will find that no matter what your feelings are about the content… you will know that you have never read anything quiet like it. That having been said...I believe it will take an audience with more Si-Fi tastes rather than supernatural preferences to really give it the appreciation that it deserves.
I received a complimentary copy of this book from Akashic Books in exchange for an honest opinion. The views expressed by this reviewer are entirely my own.
I received a complimentary copy of this book from Akashic Books in exchange for an honest opinion. The views expressed by this reviewer are entirely my own.
March 20, 2022
This book is on the 2022 Women's Prize longlist. I'm torn on rating it because at times I really liked it and at times I was really annoyed by it. I settled on 3.5 and rounded down for the annoyance. The author narrated the audiobook and did a fine job.
I thought the structure and mystical elements quite unique. What annoyed me most was the reference to "kingdoms" instead of states. A lesser annoyance was in connection with a positive of the novel. The author touches on many issues that still, 25 years after the setting of the book, continue to haunt us as a society -- child abuse by priests and other adults, racism, mental illness, and more.
There are ghosts, i.e., living dead people, and people who have powers in this novel. There is also a mystical wolf that as a device did not work well for me. The novel is set in 1977 but jumps around in time as the stories of the primary characters are revealed. Twins, co-joined at one fingertip at birth, are major characters. Nephthys and Orisis were connected not only physically but also telepathically. The physical connection was cut at birth; the telepathic connection was cut by Orisis's death, or rather murder.
In 1977, Nephthys is old and alcoholic. She drives (or rides in a car that drives itself) a 1961 Plymouth with the ghost of a dead white girl in the trunk. She is called to pick people up and take them someplace. She has regulars. Dash is her grand-nephew. He's about 10 years old and goes to a church-run school, probably Roman Catholic. He got suspended for a day because he had a fight with the principal's son, who teased Dash because he saw him down by the Anacostia River talking to no one. Only there was someone Dash could see -- his grandfather Orisis -- only Dash did not know the River Man was his grandfather. Dash's mother has dreams that reveal the future, including a lot of murders. She has dreamed of Dash's death and it is causing her much concern.
There are a lot of smaller characters and once in a while I had to back up and re-listen to be sure of the connection, as there are a lot of connections amongst the characters. There are some brutal scenes and others that are alluded to that bring horrid images to mind. Not a bad book but perhaps a bit too ambitious. I think the author has a better one to come.
I thought the structure and mystical elements quite unique. What annoyed me most was the reference to "kingdoms" instead of states. A lesser annoyance was in connection with a positive of the novel. The author touches on many issues that still, 25 years after the setting of the book, continue to haunt us as a society -- child abuse by priests and other adults, racism, mental illness, and more.
There are ghosts, i.e., living dead people, and people who have powers in this novel. There is also a mystical wolf that as a device did not work well for me. The novel is set in 1977 but jumps around in time as the stories of the primary characters are revealed. Twins, co-joined at one fingertip at birth, are major characters. Nephthys and Orisis were connected not only physically but also telepathically. The physical connection was cut at birth; the telepathic connection was cut by Orisis's death, or rather murder.
In 1977, Nephthys is old and alcoholic. She drives (or rides in a car that drives itself) a 1961 Plymouth with the ghost of a dead white girl in the trunk. She is called to pick people up and take them someplace. She has regulars. Dash is her grand-nephew. He's about 10 years old and goes to a church-run school, probably Roman Catholic. He got suspended for a day because he had a fight with the principal's son, who teased Dash because he saw him down by the Anacostia River talking to no one. Only there was someone Dash could see -- his grandfather Orisis -- only Dash did not know the River Man was his grandfather. Dash's mother has dreams that reveal the future, including a lot of murders. She has dreamed of Dash's death and it is causing her much concern.
There are a lot of smaller characters and once in a while I had to back up and re-listen to be sure of the connection, as there are a lot of connections amongst the characters. There are some brutal scenes and others that are alluded to that bring horrid images to mind. Not a bad book but perhaps a bit too ambitious. I think the author has a better one to come.
April 12, 2021
With #creaturesofpassage comes a story that explores what can be born and borne of grief, the power it has to both cripple and galvanize us, how the acceptance can lead to a path that is healing and transformative.
Yejidé's writing is heavy, heady, nuanced with feeling and meaning. She seamlessly interweaves the after with the now, connecting life and death via the spirit world, which she writes with such richness that the reader is immersed.
I love books that mesh the spirituality of Black existence into their prose, the meaning and bonds of family, the pain that comes with bottled up emotions and situations not spoken about, and the healing and triumph that begins when we open ourselves to the magic and currents of being.
The dualities of our presence, the ties that physically, emotionally, and spiritually run through communities and homes, the loss of innocence, the hardening of hearts in order to avoid shattering realities course through this story, but with a gentleness that deflects harm.
Yejidé has written characters that burrow into your mind and soul because they all carry hurt and loss within, they all have cares. She has entwined reality with the mystical, making it easy to believe that each is never far from the other and all we have to do is believe.
This was such a heart read, right away the characters reach out and grab you by the heart and don't let go, even after the end.
Yejidé's writing is heavy, heady, nuanced with feeling and meaning. She seamlessly interweaves the after with the now, connecting life and death via the spirit world, which she writes with such richness that the reader is immersed.
I love books that mesh the spirituality of Black existence into their prose, the meaning and bonds of family, the pain that comes with bottled up emotions and situations not spoken about, and the healing and triumph that begins when we open ourselves to the magic and currents of being.
The dualities of our presence, the ties that physically, emotionally, and spiritually run through communities and homes, the loss of innocence, the hardening of hearts in order to avoid shattering realities course through this story, but with a gentleness that deflects harm.
Yejidé has written characters that burrow into your mind and soul because they all carry hurt and loss within, they all have cares. She has entwined reality with the mystical, making it easy to believe that each is never far from the other and all we have to do is believe.
This was such a heart read, right away the characters reach out and grab you by the heart and don't let go, even after the end.
April 26, 2022
I greatly admire Yejidè’s creativity, but there is an awful lot going on here and she didn’t quite convince me that it all belongs in the same novel.
January 30, 2024
'Creatures of Passage' is one of the best books I've read this year.
This is a story about community, about despair, about all the little ways we creatures pass through this life. It centers on Nephthys, a supernatural cab driver in 1970s Anacostia whose purpose is helping the lost get where they need to go. She's been lost, herself, since the murder of her brother Osiris unmoored her. In 'Creatures of Passage,' we live her connection to her community and her family, to her world. We ache with her, hope with her, love with her.
This is a beautiful, and beautifully written, novel. Combining elements of Egyptian mythology, supernatural horror, family drama, and socio-econo-racial commentary, author Morowa Yejide creates a mesmerizing, thought-provoking, and wisely affirming novel that will make you want to recommend it to all your friends.
I feel that I could write about 'Creatures of Passage for 5,000 words and still not do it justice. Take my word for it: put this title on your reading list today.
This is a story about community, about despair, about all the little ways we creatures pass through this life. It centers on Nephthys, a supernatural cab driver in 1970s Anacostia whose purpose is helping the lost get where they need to go. She's been lost, herself, since the murder of her brother Osiris unmoored her. In 'Creatures of Passage,' we live her connection to her community and her family, to her world. We ache with her, hope with her, love with her.
This is a beautiful, and beautifully written, novel. Combining elements of Egyptian mythology, supernatural horror, family drama, and socio-econo-racial commentary, author Morowa Yejide creates a mesmerizing, thought-provoking, and wisely affirming novel that will make you want to recommend it to all your friends.
I feel that I could write about 'Creatures of Passage for 5,000 words and still not do it justice. Take my word for it: put this title on your reading list today.
Read
August 4, 2021Another DNF at around 60%. This really hasn’t hooked my interest enough and there’s way too many other books that I am interested in reading right now.
April 22, 2022
Nephthys Kinwell drives a sky-blue 1967 Plymouth Belvedere, haunted by the occasional thump of the ghost of a white girl in the trunk. She ferries lost souls across the Anacostia neighbourhood of Washington DC in 1977, helped by the fact that her car never breaks down or needs refuelling. Nephthys is haunted by the violent death of her twin brother Osiris; they were born conjoined at the finger (best to treat this as fantasy: conjoined twins cannot be different sexes, as they are always genetically identical, and this type of conjoining also seems unlikely) and she does not feel complete without him. Her niece Amber has the power to predict deaths, and when she has a dream about her son, Dash, Nephthys fears for his fate. Meanwhile, child abuser Mercy, the caretaker at the local school, stalks this troubled kingdom.
Creatures of Passage, Morowa Yejidé’s second novel, draws heavily on Ancient Egyptian mythology. I was familiar with the story of Isis and Osiris but hadn’t realised that Nephthys was their sister, and that she helped Isis to bring Osiris back from the dead after his murder and dismemberment. In some accounts she is also the mother of Anubis, the jackal-headed god of death who oversaw the ‘Weighing of the Heart’ in the Egyptian journey to the underworld. Egyptian Books of the Dead map routes to the underworld that involve fearful obstacles such as a lake of fire, giving the deceased a series of spells to recite so they can pass safely. A ferryman also carries the souls of the dead into the underworld. Yejidé uses this imagery throughout the novel, including the use of ancient language such as ‘kingdoms’ and ‘kings’ to describe the United States. Certain incidents bring this mythological resonance together hauntingly and beautifully: most notably, the murder of Osiris.
Unfortunately, for much of this novel, the voice that Yejidé cultivates simply did not work for me, on both a structural level and line-by-line. Creatures of Passage is deliberately repetitive and circular, as indicated by the childhood song that is repeated by both Nephthys and Osiris: ‘Indigo swirlin’ round de vat/No beginnin’ and no end…’ Both siblings also repeat certain phrases, such as ‘the unbearable inertia of one’ and ‘the interstellar cold of his solitude’, a tic that drove me increasingly mad as the novel went on. This was perhaps especially irritating because these phrases, like much of the rest of the text, felt mannered and pretentious. Yejidé chooses complex language even when things could be said much more simply. Describing the death of a pregnant woman: ‘As the woman moved from one plane of existence to another, the preborn lay quiet in her amniotic water, listening to the sound of her progenitor’s heartbeat slowing to a stop.’ One line like this might work, but the accumulation of them is very wearing, even if it’s in keeping with the mood of the novel. There are flashes of brilliant writing – ‘the cherry-blossom flecked currents of the Tidal Basin; the shallow majesty of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool; the slushy inflow of the McMillan Reservoir; the black tranquility of the Georgetown canal; the rolling deep of the Potomac River’ – but even these get diluted by being repeated.
I genuinely admire what Yejidé was trying to do with this novel, but it did not work well for me, especially because all this is anchored by a rather thin plot that centres on child abuse, a prominent theme in the Women’s Prize longlist this year but one which is difficult to handle in fiction. Probably my biggest disappointment from the list, and I doubt it will be shortlisted.
Creatures of Passage, Morowa Yejidé’s second novel, draws heavily on Ancient Egyptian mythology. I was familiar with the story of Isis and Osiris but hadn’t realised that Nephthys was their sister, and that she helped Isis to bring Osiris back from the dead after his murder and dismemberment. In some accounts she is also the mother of Anubis, the jackal-headed god of death who oversaw the ‘Weighing of the Heart’ in the Egyptian journey to the underworld. Egyptian Books of the Dead map routes to the underworld that involve fearful obstacles such as a lake of fire, giving the deceased a series of spells to recite so they can pass safely. A ferryman also carries the souls of the dead into the underworld. Yejidé uses this imagery throughout the novel, including the use of ancient language such as ‘kingdoms’ and ‘kings’ to describe the United States. Certain incidents bring this mythological resonance together hauntingly and beautifully: most notably, the murder of Osiris.
Unfortunately, for much of this novel, the voice that Yejidé cultivates simply did not work for me, on both a structural level and line-by-line. Creatures of Passage is deliberately repetitive and circular, as indicated by the childhood song that is repeated by both Nephthys and Osiris: ‘Indigo swirlin’ round de vat/No beginnin’ and no end…’ Both siblings also repeat certain phrases, such as ‘the unbearable inertia of one’ and ‘the interstellar cold of his solitude’, a tic that drove me increasingly mad as the novel went on. This was perhaps especially irritating because these phrases, like much of the rest of the text, felt mannered and pretentious. Yejidé chooses complex language even when things could be said much more simply. Describing the death of a pregnant woman: ‘As the woman moved from one plane of existence to another, the preborn lay quiet in her amniotic water, listening to the sound of her progenitor’s heartbeat slowing to a stop.’ One line like this might work, but the accumulation of them is very wearing, even if it’s in keeping with the mood of the novel. There are flashes of brilliant writing – ‘the cherry-blossom flecked currents of the Tidal Basin; the shallow majesty of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool; the slushy inflow of the McMillan Reservoir; the black tranquility of the Georgetown canal; the rolling deep of the Potomac River’ – but even these get diluted by being repeated.
I genuinely admire what Yejidé was trying to do with this novel, but it did not work well for me, especially because all this is anchored by a rather thin plot that centres on child abuse, a prominent theme in the Women’s Prize longlist this year but one which is difficult to handle in fiction. Probably my biggest disappointment from the list, and I doubt it will be shortlisted.
April 18, 2022
"Creatures of Passage" is a mind blowing experience of a book. I am not sure I can adequately describe my feelings on this one. And I already know there will be multiple readings of this book.
"Creatures" reminds me of all the best things about Black southern folktales- liminal spaces, crossroad (or in this case junkyard) deals, eldritch creatures taking the form of animals- and best of all, the acceptance of the supernatural as just another part of life.
The language is lush, beautiful, and evocative. Yejide is a master at creating that liminal space, step to the left of reality feel that I adore. The plot follows the appropriately named Nepthys as she guides and protects the lost on their journeys through DC. She tries to offer them healing while mourning the death of her brother, Osiris.
Nepthys, her family, and her passengers offer the reader a glimpse into a remarkable DC community that walks a little too close to the edge of the boundary between life and death. Yejide explores intergenerational trauma and tragedy at the same time she showcases the strength and joy of the people and the community. This book is not a never ending list of misery and tragedy porn. Life is hard, there is deep sorrow and suffering; yet, people still find ways to keep living.
I have 0 complaints about this book. TW for child abuse and sexual abuse.
"Creatures" reminds me of all the best things about Black southern folktales- liminal spaces, crossroad (or in this case junkyard) deals, eldritch creatures taking the form of animals- and best of all, the acceptance of the supernatural as just another part of life.
The language is lush, beautiful, and evocative. Yejide is a master at creating that liminal space, step to the left of reality feel that I adore. The plot follows the appropriately named Nepthys as she guides and protects the lost on their journeys through DC. She tries to offer them healing while mourning the death of her brother, Osiris.
Nepthys, her family, and her passengers offer the reader a glimpse into a remarkable DC community that walks a little too close to the edge of the boundary between life and death. Yejide explores intergenerational trauma and tragedy at the same time she showcases the strength and joy of the people and the community. This book is not a never ending list of misery and tragedy porn. Life is hard, there is deep sorrow and suffering; yet, people still find ways to keep living.
I have 0 complaints about this book. TW for child abuse and sexual abuse.
February 11, 2024
This was somewhat slippery, in a few different ways, but quite an enjoyable experience, especially as the author narrating. Where so many authors simply should not ever be narrating their story, this author is pretty excellent.
It’s a pretty grim story, focusing on the many, many creatures of passage, which almost feels adjacent to magical realism, given how often the fiction normalizes unexplained supernatural perceptions of some of the cast. A medium who sees only specific details, sometimes more symbolic than anything; other times she sees specific details, just, for instance, the face of the person being blank. Or the main character driving a car with a kind of impulse taking her to people and places where they ought to be/go.
All of the people are marginalized, preyed upon, suffer ranges of trauma, and continue to go on with their lives. But the most dark area is a child predator creeping amongst them as they try to go on.
The prose are poetic and compelling, but do sometimes leave more subjective space for what is actually happening, which made me confused. It’s usually clarified, but not always. The ending was satisfying and brought into focus some of the slippery parts. I can see some people not making it that far, though.
It’s a pretty grim story, focusing on the many, many creatures of passage, which almost feels adjacent to magical realism, given how often the fiction normalizes unexplained supernatural perceptions of some of the cast. A medium who sees only specific details, sometimes more symbolic than anything; other times she sees specific details, just, for instance, the face of the person being blank. Or the main character driving a car with a kind of impulse taking her to people and places where they ought to be/go.
All of the people are marginalized, preyed upon, suffer ranges of trauma, and continue to go on with their lives. But the most dark area is a child predator creeping amongst them as they try to go on.
The prose are poetic and compelling, but do sometimes leave more subjective space for what is actually happening, which made me confused. It’s usually clarified, but not always. The ending was satisfying and brought into focus some of the slippery parts. I can see some people not making it that far, though.
July 29, 2022
This book is basically about the Kinwell family, lesser deities that walk the earth among us, and the horrible things that happen in this life. Amber dreams of people's death and they always come true. Nephthys (Amber's Aunt), drives a haunted car, and can tell who needs help getting to where they need to be (both physically and emotionally). Dash, (Amber's son), can see his dead grandfather who's body was found in the river. The Kinwell's do not talk to each other in a way that normal families talk, they are estranged and adrift. Everything in the book seems to take place over the course of one month: Amber dreams of Dash's death, further closing her off with fear and sorrow. Dash witnesses a monster and is trying to make sense of the world he belongs to. Nephthys is trying to drown her grief in alcohol on the anniversary of her twin's (Amber's father) death. While the subject matter of this book is painful and upsetting Yejide weaves together alternating timelines of the past, the present and the afterlife to create an amazing and unique story. Her prose is poetic and is filled with sorrow and love that saturates into your soul as you read. The story is filled with heartache for the past and hope for the future and shows how people are interconnected in ways that often go unseen. Yejide's use of African mythology provides a fresh take on the magical realism side of the fantasy genre.
Read
March 26, 2021DNF. May try again later.
Read
January 16, 2021January 16, 2021 Readers note:
I was happy to have received this book and looked forward to reading it, especially since it was set in the city of my birth. I received it the morning of January 6, 2021, just before all hell broke loose in and around the US Capitol. One of the many aftermaths of that insurrection is that I am not up to reading about the city, even one laced with Magical Realism, myth, and ghostly things. I've picked it up twice, and set it dow again, because I can't really concentrate right now. I promise to pick it up again when my mind has settled and our world is hopefully a little more stable.
I was happy to have received this book and looked forward to reading it, especially since it was set in the city of my birth. I received it the morning of January 6, 2021, just before all hell broke loose in and around the US Capitol. One of the many aftermaths of that insurrection is that I am not up to reading about the city, even one laced with Magical Realism, myth, and ghostly things. I've picked it up twice, and set it dow again, because I can't really concentrate right now. I promise to pick it up again when my mind has settled and our world is hopefully a little more stable.
May 6, 2021
whew! this book is a lot... i admit that i struggled through much of the book because it seemed to focus on Black pain but ultimately it is a lesson about community, the strength we lose, give and empower within families and the journey of finding one's self.
there is so much to unpack. i may add more to this review later.
there is so much to unpack. i may add more to this review later.
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March 17, 2021This was a weird one for me. I've had it in my Audible wishlist for months and was really, really looking forward to it. So I was excited to finally listen to it. And then.
I hated the writing.
It was an ok book with a very interesting premise, but it got bogged down in the morass of florid, soppy, try-hard-philosophical prose, and the need to provide social and political commentary (in the most heavy-handed way possible).
Here's the thing. People enjoy "lush prose." I don't get it, but... people like it. If that's your thing, you'll love this. It was practically purple. It had that sort of whimsical, almost subversive-fairytale vibe that so many people enjoy (but I find tedious and overbearing). It was a lot. Lots of kings and kingdoms and sort of fairytale language describing states and presidents, for instance. So again, if you're into that style, you'll enjoy it a heck of a lot more than I did.
Ok, so. I've had a bit of time to ruminate, I think I was actually really disappointed by this, and not just because the writing style wasn't to my taste. The story was thin. Really thin. And the conclusion was staggeringly anticlimactic. It's like it didn't know what it wanted to be, so it tried to be everything and didn't manage to really be anything.
The characters weren't developed enough for it to be a character piece. The family dynamic/relationship wasn't developed enough for it to be one of those ever popular general fictions about a messed up family coming to terms with itself (although I think this was what it was supposed to be), the supernatural stuff was interesting but it felt unnecessary and tacked on strictly to make the story more interesting (or maybe to hammer home the idea that the main characters were "other" even in their own community). It would have ended up the same whether or not there were ghosts, or one of the characters could half-predict death.
Then there's the mystery part, which is why I was do eager to read the book. It was very,very basic. Serial child rapist picks on the wrong kid, gets killed, life goes on, nothing really changes (except it brings the protagonist's family back together). The mystery is not actually a mystery, it's a plot device. A MacGuffin, almost. It serves as a catalyst for the resolution of the family drama part of the story. We know who the killer is at maybe the first third of the book. We quickly learn his motivations, and what his endgame is. There is exactly no sense of urgency or tension and revealing who the villain is so early in the game was kind of... deflating?
Two nitpicks: first, the book uses the "boys who are sexually abused grow up to be sexusl abusers" trope, which is something I find problematic, and also lazy. I can see how the author might have been trying to spotlight generational abuse or something, maybe, but I think the same points could have been made without resorting to that harmful stereotype.
Second, and this is a genuine nitpick, the protagonist was a twin. A female twin with a male twin brother. So, fraternal twins. But a huge deal was made of the fact that they were conjoined at birth. At the index finger, but, still, conjoined. That's not possible. I mean, I know, I know, it's a magical realism story, there are ghosts and psychic powers but THIS is what you're unable to suspend your disbelief for? I don't know, it just bothered me.
I hated the writing.
It was an ok book with a very interesting premise, but it got bogged down in the morass of florid, soppy, try-hard-philosophical prose, and the need to provide social and political commentary (in the most heavy-handed way possible).
Here's the thing. People enjoy "lush prose." I don't get it, but... people like it. If that's your thing, you'll love this. It was practically purple. It had that sort of whimsical, almost subversive-fairytale vibe that so many people enjoy (but I find tedious and overbearing). It was a lot. Lots of kings and kingdoms and sort of fairytale language describing states and presidents, for instance. So again, if you're into that style, you'll enjoy it a heck of a lot more than I did.
Ok, so. I've had a bit of time to ruminate, I think I was actually really disappointed by this, and not just because the writing style wasn't to my taste. The story was thin. Really thin. And the conclusion was staggeringly anticlimactic. It's like it didn't know what it wanted to be, so it tried to be everything and didn't manage to really be anything.
The characters weren't developed enough for it to be a character piece. The family dynamic/relationship wasn't developed enough for it to be one of those ever popular general fictions about a messed up family coming to terms with itself (although I think this was what it was supposed to be), the supernatural stuff was interesting but it felt unnecessary and tacked on strictly to make the story more interesting (or maybe to hammer home the idea that the main characters were "other" even in their own community). It would have ended up the same whether or not there were ghosts, or one of the characters could half-predict death.
Then there's the mystery part, which is why I was do eager to read the book. It was very,very basic. Serial child rapist picks on the wrong kid, gets killed, life goes on, nothing really changes (except it brings the protagonist's family back together). The mystery is not actually a mystery, it's a plot device. A MacGuffin, almost. It serves as a catalyst for the resolution of the family drama part of the story. We know who the killer is at maybe the first third of the book. We quickly learn his motivations, and what his endgame is. There is exactly no sense of urgency or tension and revealing who the villain is so early in the game was kind of... deflating?
Two nitpicks: first, the book uses the "boys who are sexually abused grow up to be sexusl abusers" trope, which is something I find problematic, and also lazy. I can see how the author might have been trying to spotlight generational abuse or something, maybe, but I think the same points could have been made without resorting to that harmful stereotype.
Second, and this is a genuine nitpick, the protagonist was a twin. A female twin with a male twin brother. So, fraternal twins. But a huge deal was made of the fact that they were conjoined at birth. At the index finger, but, still, conjoined. That's not possible. I mean, I know, I know, it's a magical realism story, there are ghosts and psychic powers but THIS is what you're unable to suspend your disbelief for? I don't know, it just bothered me.
February 23, 2025
Set in 1977, in a quadrant of a version of Washington DC, Nephthys drives a particular kind of taxi - a 1967 Plymouth with a ghost in the trunk. It's not a taxi you can flag down, but when you are in need of passage, it will show up and take you where you need to be. Nephthys drinks to push back her grief at the loss of her twin, Osiris, whose body was found in the river. When her 10 year old great-nephew, Dash, shows up unexpectedly at her apartment needing help after seeing something so awful he can't make sense of it, Nephthys must face her grief head on and pull on the threads that may save him. This is an exquisitely written tale of love and forgiveness, grief and revenge. The myth and mysticism is powerful and evocative and you will not want to put this book down. There are so many layers in here - this would be a. Exceptional book for a group read.
April 12, 2022
A fantastic story of the Kinwells, a haunted, haunting family in an alternate 1970’s Washington D.C. neighborhood called Anacostia.
Nephtys, always slightly drunk, has been grieving the murder of her twin brother Osiris for decades, this grief having caused an estrangement with her niece Amber, who was born the day her mother was killed in a hit and run, for dreaming of her father’s eminent death, but not knowing how to prevent it. Amber was born with the power to dream glimpses of impending deaths, a power that frightens her community, that and the monster sized vegetables that grow in her garden.
Osiris is furious at his murder and the death of his wife Gola the day their daughter was born, moves through time seeking violence and mayhem while also trying to find Gola, and to been seen by Amber and Nephtys.
Nephtys drives a ‘67 Plymouth Belvedere that never breaks down and never runs out of gas. When the fog seeps into the car Nephtys knows which grieving passenger needs a ride. On every ride Nephtys is accompanied by the ghost of the dead white girl in the trunk. When 10 yr old Dash, Amber’s son, shows up at his great-aunt’s house with the news that his mother has had a dream about him and with the story of talking with a mysterious “River Man” Nephtys knows she has to help.
She turns to Find Out, the man who gave her the Plymouth and can find any lost thing, to enlist his help in finding the man she believes can protect Dash.
This novel has a cast of interesting characters, some dead, some alive, some with supernatural powers, some just trying to get by, and one who is a source of evil who makes children in Anacostia disappear.
Morowa Yejidé has been compared to Toni Morrison, but reading, or even better, listening to Yejidé narrate her story, it is clear that she has her own mesmerizing voice.
Highly recommended.
Nephtys, always slightly drunk, has been grieving the murder of her twin brother Osiris for decades, this grief having caused an estrangement with her niece Amber, who was born the day her mother was killed in a hit and run, for dreaming of her father’s eminent death, but not knowing how to prevent it. Amber was born with the power to dream glimpses of impending deaths, a power that frightens her community, that and the monster sized vegetables that grow in her garden.
Osiris is furious at his murder and the death of his wife Gola the day their daughter was born, moves through time seeking violence and mayhem while also trying to find Gola, and to been seen by Amber and Nephtys.
Nephtys drives a ‘67 Plymouth Belvedere that never breaks down and never runs out of gas. When the fog seeps into the car Nephtys knows which grieving passenger needs a ride. On every ride Nephtys is accompanied by the ghost of the dead white girl in the trunk. When 10 yr old Dash, Amber’s son, shows up at his great-aunt’s house with the news that his mother has had a dream about him and with the story of talking with a mysterious “River Man” Nephtys knows she has to help.
She turns to Find Out, the man who gave her the Plymouth and can find any lost thing, to enlist his help in finding the man she believes can protect Dash.
This novel has a cast of interesting characters, some dead, some alive, some with supernatural powers, some just trying to get by, and one who is a source of evil who makes children in Anacostia disappear.
Morowa Yejidé has been compared to Toni Morrison, but reading, or even better, listening to Yejidé narrate her story, it is clear that she has her own mesmerizing voice.
Highly recommended.
March 17, 2021
dnf at the nice page count of 111
trigger warning
This is a characterdriven book, and I struggle to give you a plot summary. There is a woman whose grand-nephew speaks to a ghost, and she is wondering whether to do something about it, but is not sure as she is distanced from her niece.
Said niece dreams of the future, mostly about death.
It drifts from this person to that person in a wonderful prose, and I would have liked to keep on reading, were it not for Mercy's section. He's a groundskeeper at a school and a church, and everybody sees him as this harmless, helpful person. He is a serial rapist, and his recollection of his fondest memories with children go ond and on and on.
I'm sorry, I can't. It's handled in a great way and not exploitive, but I've befriended too many people who were like these children and nobody helped or believed them aside from a few friends who were equally as powerless.
Listen, I am not having a great time with arcs at the moment, but I've also have had much luck with them in the past. Still think it's worth it. But this time, again, no more from me.
The arc was provided by the publisher.
trigger warning
This is a characterdriven book, and I struggle to give you a plot summary. There is a woman whose grand-nephew speaks to a ghost, and she is wondering whether to do something about it, but is not sure as she is distanced from her niece.
Said niece dreams of the future, mostly about death.
It drifts from this person to that person in a wonderful prose, and I would have liked to keep on reading, were it not for Mercy's section. He's a groundskeeper at a school and a church, and everybody sees him as this harmless, helpful person. He is a serial rapist, and his recollection of his fondest memories with children go ond and on and on.
I'm sorry, I can't. It's handled in a great way and not exploitive, but I've befriended too many people who were like these children and nobody helped or believed them aside from a few friends who were equally as powerless.
Listen, I am not having a great time with arcs at the moment, but I've also have had much luck with them in the past. Still think it's worth it. But this time, again, no more from me.
The arc was provided by the publisher.
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