A 17-year-old guardian of the memories of recently deceased young people questions her purpose in the latest from National Book Award finalist McBride.
The Keepers stay in their Leaving Rooms, ushering Leavers through this liminal space between life and death. Gospel, a Keeper who struggles with following rules, prides herself on providing Leavers with meals made of loving memories and cares for the souls during their precious four minutes with her. Tending to children who have just died, Gospel takes each one’s “best memory,” often involving a meal, and places it in one of the mason jars that line her bookshelves, which are “made from living trees.” Some of the Leavers haunt Gospel, their presences creating lasting memories for her—5-year-old Maple and 8-year-old Suvi, in particular (readers later learn the reason behind their significance). As Gospel struggles with the weight of her role, Melodee, who’s also a Keeper, enters her Leaving Room, breaking another rule. Their connection is instantaneous; “I didn’t know Keepers / could feel love,” Gospel observes—and she wonders whether her existence might hold more meaning. McBride is a master of verse, weaving lines with emotion and character development, articulating pain and hope with an economy of words, and documenting Black lives with tenderness. Reverberating with a haunting trauma, this powerful narrative is packed with Black joy, queer love, and feminist defiance.
Compelling and evocative: a must-read.
(author’s note, playlist) (Verse fiction. 14-18)