Rivers Solomon’s An Unkindness of Ghosts ultimately works to answer the question, “what if a previous institutional form of racism was transposed into the future in space?” The novel focuses on our protagonist, Aster, a brilliant scientist and healer living on the Q deck of Matilda, an enormous spaceship that carries just as much racial tension as it does Earthly passengers throughout the cosmos. You see, in this universe, Earth experienced an unnamed calamity 300 years ago and a considerable portion of the population was loaded onto Matilda with the hopes that eventually they would be able to, presumably, colonize and eventually destroy but another planet. Life on Matilda is far from ideal, the ship is broken up into 26 decks, ranked from A-Z, with the upper echelons housing passengers with the most privilege and access (think white, wealthy, heterosexual, etc.) with the lower decks harboring passengers from less advantageous social positions. Residents of lowerdecks are forced to, for example, maintain Matilda’s energy source (known as “Baby”) despite the awful radiation ramifications or work what’s known as the “Field Decks”, essentially a reimagination of plantations. 25 years ago, Aster’s mother, Lune, committed suicide and, throughout the novel, Aster, along with her best friend, Giselle, and friend of considerable privilege, Theo “The Surgeon” Smith, work to solve the mystery of what happened to Lune and, in doing so, uncover a history and current-day reality that threatens the safety of everyone onboard.

There are many things that An Unkindness of Ghosts does well. Underneath the oppressive thumb of the “Sovereign” (think racist dictator), people like Aster go through a lot of violence of myriad forms and Solomon does a wonderful job of painting the bleak reality that surrounds its main cast. But more than graphic depictions of their everyday reality, Solomon gracefully demonstrates how this institutional violence strains the relationships of those who otherwise love one another. For example, Giselle and Aster’s friendship is marked by just as much distrust, manipulation, and violence as it is by fondness, care, and love. And while Giselle’s tendencies contribute heavily to this dynamic, the horrible violence she’s experienced has everything to do with how callous she can come across. Similarly interesting, Solomon points out the shortcomings and sacrifices that come along with privilege. While we see members of lowerdecks in same-gender romantic relationships or embracing non-binary gender identities, Theo’s character is often mocked for being too feminine for the toxic masculine gender expression that others feel the need to force upon him. There’s a lot wrong with Matilda and, yet, characters are still able to build meaningful relationships, support one another, and enjoy love, culture, and community. As a reimagination of slavery moved into the future, the book does a phenomenal job of adding nuance, imperfection, and complexity onto a group that typically isn’t afforded that in literary reconstructions.

However, that being said, my main critique of An Unkindness of Ghosts mostly comes from a place of exhaustion. The book is well-written, the relationships are captivating, and the pacing is mostly good (save for the end where things spiraled a bit too quickly). However, as a Black, queer person living through a racial reality that’s not particularly far off from that of Matilda’s, I found it hard to get through this book at various points. The racial vitriol onboard felt familiar given the world we live in and the past that precedes it, however, I found that, on Matilda, it didn’t necessarily have the same contextual explanation. Obviously there is no logical explanation for racism, but on Matilda, as a reader, I felt we lacked the historical backing to understand and compartmentalize the heavy violence taking place onboard. I would have loved to have learned more about what happened on Earth all those years ago and to learn how Matilda made it off to better place why racial dynamics were as strained as they were. It’s saddening to think of racism as an inevitable reality that needn’t be preceded by historical context—as a reality that would happen just as much in another reality as it does in this one. But, more than that, while reimaginations of racism can offer interesting critiques of the institution, as a person who’s experienced racial, gender-based, and queer-based violence, I find works like An Unkindness of Ghosts too taxing for the conversation it works to initiate. This book is very taxing from start to finish and, by the end, I felt myself unable to distinguish myself from the characters on the page in the worse way.

I would recommend this book if you are interested in absorbing a reimagination of racial dynamics and seeing the extent to which individuals can experience resilience. However, especially for those coming at this from marginalized backgrounds, I recommend proceeding with caution and taking care of yourself as you read through this. Be mindful of any vicarious trauma you may experience and, if you are up for it, there’s certainly a lot to uncover onboard the microcosm that is Matilda.