SYMPATHY FOR WILD GIRLS

Queer Black women strike out into the world on their own terms.

While their histories and points of view differ, McGhee’s women are linked by how uncomfortable they feel in their bodies, how uncomfortably they move in the space in which they’re expected to exist. One woman must load her pockets with rocks to keep from floating away after a traumatic life event, while another works to shed the weight she’s gained since her days as a student athlete. The protagonists struggle with intimate connections, grief, self-acceptance, hope, faith, restlessness, transformation, and desire. A school nurse develops an inappropriate relationship with a student—no, not like that. The “how” is as alarming as it is profound. Other stories feature prophets and petty thieves. Some are tethered to our modern world of big-box stores and social media influencers, while others feel out of time, fablelike. Most take place in California. Readers looking for traditional short stories might find themselves vexed. The pieces aren’t incomplete, but rather fragmented. Sure, a vase can be beautiful, but the broken shards of glass that remain intact after it falls from a table or is hurled against a wall can be even more enticing to look at and touch. There is ample craft here, cunning description as well as an urgent, evocative voice that demands attention. McGhee harnesses the magic of language and narrative and character into a new kind of vessel to hold what it feels like to be young and Black and queer. Not every story succeeds, but each one takes unexpected risks. McGhee has a unique vision with the chops to bring it to life. Every woman she’s created here is in danger and dangerously powerful in her own way, if she can figure out how.

A daring debut collection of enigmatic short stories.