It’s a hard no for me. Really interesting story, but I don’t think she’s the right person to tell it. I firmly believe this would have been an infinitely better novel if it had been written by a black author. As it stands, it was mediocre at its BEST, few moments, and it’s ultimately so because the author is writing about deeply complex and personal experiences that she’s never had. At its worst moments it made me embarrassed and confused for her, as she screams, “it’s okay, I’m a good white lady!” while still managing to include elements of white saviorism throughout the novel.

No one reads my reviews, but if you happen to have gotten through this and you’re thinking “but why can’t she tell this story if it’s an important and forgotten story in history?” Ask yourself why she couldn’t, instead, pitch the story to a publishing company and let them find a more suitable author, or, better yet, why couldn’t she pitch it to another author herself?

Brooks, in an interview, says she expected this criticism and asks if there is value in creating art that takes us outside of ourselves. While I agree there is value in that endeavor, I think there might be a line. I’m not sure where exactly it lies, nor am I an authority, but this novel does feel like it crosses it.