
The hauntings get stronger Vern also gets stronger. The hauntings began much earlier - hallucinations brought on by routine micro-dosing and a cleansing ritual Cainland calls “Ascensions.” As Vern goes on, her children grow, the fiend gets closer. Pursuit by the fiend, a hunter Vern believes was sent by Cainland to bring her back, begins immediately after her departure. Because nothing can be simple in the woods. In the woods, she gives birth to two children whom she names, appropriately, Howling and Feral.Īnd then, there are the hauntings.

You’ll remember Vern is pregnant at 15, having been married to cult leader Reverend Sherman at his not-really-a-request, some years before.

Queerness is a “white man’s disease,” heterosexuality is the only acceptable way, and submission to one’s husband mandatory. Boys are educated to an extent girls are not. However, the strict Christian-based ideology has a chokehold on gender roles and sexuality. There are no cops, because “hat goodness could there be in a place who’d made men like that their kings?” The children born in Cainland are named after famous Black figures, or “descendants of Cain,” like Malcolm or Martin or Harriet. They honor their ancestors, teach their history alongside important survival skills. There is no forced participation in racist systems or institutions. It is easy to understand why Cainland would seem like a dream for some. Members of Cainland live off the land and rely on their own to create what they need. The Blessed Acres of Cain, or Cainland, was born from Black liberation movements like the Black Panthers and the fictional CLAWS group for the purpose of creating a Black society divested from white capitalism and influence, for the protection of Black people and culture.

The main character in Sorrowland, Vern, is 15 and pregnant when she escapes from the Blessed Acres of Cain, a refuge-cum-cult of Black Americans designed toward Black independence from white society. And, though I am a non-Black reader, I see no experiences translated for the sake of a white audience. Where there is violence, there is also resilience. In literary circles, we often talk about the historical prevalence of stories that center Black pain for a white gaze, suffering for the sake of allowing an audience to say, “Well, at least I’m not that racist.” Sorrowland is not one of those stories. But familiarity with Solomon (fae/faer/faers)’s previous work led me to believe this would not be simply (for lack of a better phrase) torture porn. I anticipated a certain amount of, well, sorrow, alongside speculative elements. I’LL ADMIT THAT I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from Rivers Solomon’s Sorrowland.
