Fire Rush with its unique lyrical patois is about Yamaye who is on a journey to find out more about her mother. Along the way, she discovers more about herself and those around her. This debut novel is ambitious and full of feeling, but I struggled to connect with it. Part of me feels I have no clearance to even review this because I haven’t read enough Caribbean literature, so please don’t let my review stop you from giving this one a chance. 

I had such high hopes, but the somewhat disjointed pacing and a few seemingly underdeveloped themes put a damper on my reading experience. The book told in three parts is entirely in Yamaye’s POV and makes her oddly distant at times. Her pain is evident, but not necessarily palpable. The dynamic she shared with Monassa was confusing, but perhaps the mental and physical abuse she suffered at his hands affected her more than the text lets on. The content of this book is heavy, but I didn’t feel as impacted by it as I know I should. Crooks has a tendency to be unnecessarily wordy throughout the book and there are moments where her waxing poetic doesn’t always seem to serve or fulfill its purpose. 

I do enjoy how music is the novel’s heartbeat and the writing constantly engages as many senses as possible (taste, feel, sound) making it immersive. The plot is interesting and has quite a few layers. This combined with the multiple themes introduced seemed to overwhelm the author. Jacqueline Crooks’s talent is evident and I think a tighter edit would have helped showcase it more.