The Echota family still suffers, 15 years after the death of their older son, Ray-Ray, who was shot by a police officer. The story follows Maria, Ray-Ray's mother, as she tries to cope with her husbands failing health; Edgar who is the youngest of the Echota family and dealing with addiction; Sonja who was Ray-Ray's big sister who is steeped in her lowliness and makes questionable romantic decisions. The novel is rife with Cherokee myths, legends, and history (especially references to the trail of tears).

The novel is written from each character's POV, which is a challenge when changing perspectives throughout the novel; however, Brandon Hobson has done an excellent job of differentiating each voice. This book does not follow a traditional narrative or plot, so be forewarned that the narrative style may take some getting used to. The characters are flawed and frustrating: Sonja made terrible romantic choices, bordering on creepy, and felt underdeveloped; Edgar was frustrating in his decisions, but he was more fleshed out than Sonja; Maria, I think, was my favorite so I was disappointed that her arc felt unfinished. I still give it 4-stars because it did captivate and transport me into the lives of this heart-broken family.

The Removed seemed like an odd choice for a book title, but as I read Brandon Hobson's book I could see so many ways that it applied. Ray-Ray created a huge hole in his family when he was unjustly shot by a cop fifteen years ago. His father's memories are now being removed due to Alzheimer's, and his mother has been removed from her job due to retirement. Of course, the most obvious is the cruel way their ancestors were removed from their own land. Novels like this are so important to help us get a feel for what others have endured. Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher Ecco for the opportunity to read and review The Removed.

I liked Brandon’s Hobson’s breakout novel, Where the Dead Sit Talking pretty well, but this follow-up is a vast improvement. In Hobson’s new novel he brings some of the sparse, sad, and tepid prose of WtDST, and joins it with a more imaginative, multi-faceted story.


The chapters are all first-person accounts cycling through the Echota family. These accounts are focused around each family member’s grieving processes following the murder of one of the children, Ray-Ray, by way of a police officer. The novel weaves Cherokee lore, history, and modern commentary through the canvas of a grieving family. Themes/topics range from the atrocities of the Trail of Tears, police brutality, substance abuse, domestic abuse, temporality, VR?, dementia, importance of nature/animals/environment, and the foster care system, among others. Having the multi-character gaze, freed Hobson up to vary up the prose style in ways that were not possible with the singular vision of WtDST. Especially with Tsala’s chapters, we see Hobson at his most poetic. In Edgar’s chapters, Hobson creates an eerie, terrifying, and often darkly-comical purgatory which I will not spoil for any prospective readers here.


This is one of the best novels released in the past 5-10 years that I have read, period. And the best Native American authored novel released since Tommy Orange’s There There.


Sidenote: between the multiple Elliott Smith references and the Jerry Reed and Chet Atkins reference, I can assume Hobson also has good music taste.

A fascinating look at some of the issues in contemporary Native American life and how it has been shaped by past atrocities, both large and small,. It's told in alternating chapters by different members of a family torn apart by a tragedy, but as with many books with multiple viewpoints, some are more interesting than others. The individual parts all worked but it never felt like the book fully came together.

Grief has a way of laying you out. When the feelings of loss and sadness flood in, life can seem unbearable. It is difficult and unimaginable to lose a family member at a young age, or even before they have been able to experience all their hopes and dreams in the world. Brandon Hobson’s luminous novel, The Removed, is the story of one family’s personal loss and the challenges they wrestle with in the wake of such tragedy.

The Removed is an unforgettable story linking Cherokee history, one marked by trauma, violence, and forced migration with the generational trauma experienced by a family who has suffered an unbearable loss. The intertwining of Cherokee ancestral past with broken family members in the present offers the reader a unique angle of understanding. Reflecting on the role of Cherokee spirituality, the author eloquently writes,

“Look to the sky, and there we are soaring like hawks, . . . we are a sparkle of blue light inside rocks, . . We are speakers of the dead, the drifters, messengers, . . . We reveal ourselves to those who will look . . .We are always restless, carrying the dreams of children and the elderly, the tired and sick, the poor, the wounded. The removed.” (52)

The characters in The Removed all bear wounds borne from the loss of their family member.

Set in Quah, Oklahoma, the Echota family led by Alzheimer-ridden patriarch, Ernest, and his depressed wife Maria are just on the cusp of the fifteen-year anniversary of their son Ray-Ray’s death, a life lost in a police shooting. Maria, the glue of the family, is planning the anniversary bonfire for Ray-Ray, an event held every year since the tenth anniversary of his death. Meanwhile, her husband recedes into the background when his Alzheimer’s begins to worsen. Sonja, their 31-year old daughter, who resides just down the road from her parents, plays an ongoing loop of loveless encounters with men. Twenty-one year old Edgar, the youngest of the Echota clan lives on the edge, with a brutal addiction to crystal meth, a strung-out existence in Albuquerque. Each of the family members struggles with the loss of their son and brother, Ray-Ray.

Hobson interweaves Cherokee folklore into this uncanny story of loss and resilience. For that matter, the members of the Echota family--coincidentally it the same family name as the contested Cherokee treaty in 1835 (Treaty of New Echota) that led to the demise of Cherokee people and brought about the infamous Trail of Tears-- are well versed in Cherokee cultural history. They reside in Oklahoma as descendants of the forcible migration of their people predominantly from Georgia, Tennessee, and the Carolinas. Thus, it is the spirit presence of the ancestors who involuntarily migrated along the Trail of Tears who lift up the Echota family.

While contemporary interactions of the Echota clan are rife with melancholy, the story reaches deeper into psychic trauma in unspooling an additional historic narrative of Tsala, a Cherokee leader who endured far-reaching trauma in the 1830s during the Trail of Tears. Tsala serves as connective tissue linking the original Cherokee origin story to the Echota family. There has been horrific trauma endured on the Trail of Tears as countless Cherokee men, women, and children suffered brutalities exerted by the military soldiers moving them westward in the throes of a harsh winter. Generational trauma leaks into the lives of the Echotas, notably in Edgar’s addiction. Hobson shrewdly pinpoints cyclical violence and trauma in this searing story.

Cherokee ancestors guide the Echota family through their grief. Maria is burdened by Ernest’s worsening health and also tries earnestly to remain emotionally stable given her own grief. A happenstance request to temporarily foster Wyatt, a Cherokee teenager, puts Ernest on the road to recovery. The boy reminds the couple of Ray-Ray and lifts Ernest’s mental haze. As days pass, it seems that Ernest is recovering his memory and intellectual well-being. Ernest is convinced that Wyatt is imbued with Ray-Ray’s spirit and by the end so, too, is Maria as she scrawls in her journal: “Ray-Ray’s spirit channeled Wyatt. I can barely breathe thinking about it.” (259)

Sonja manifests her own grief in a series of poor choices with her love life. One love interest Vin has a secret of his own that unspools toward the ending of the book. It is Vin’s son Luka who Sonja becomes deeply connected to. He is an old soul enthused by quirky interests and shunning sports and the masculinity with which his father is imbued. Though the youngest family member when Ray-Ray was killed by a police officer, Edgar’s pain is immensely palpable: He has moved to Albuquerque following his girlfriend who has begun art school there. Secretly, he has ramped up his addiction smoking his drug of choice, methamphetamine and readily ingesting Oxycontin. His girlfriend’s growing dissatisfaction with his drug use, leads Edgar to visit a lonely motel where he overdoses on Oxy.

Edgar begins a harrowing journey to the Darkening Land, a psychic location where souls go before they reach their final resting place. The Darkening Land is full of mottled, dank houses, desiccated landscape, and iniquitous men and women such as old school friend, Jackson. Through a series of underhanded gestures, Jackson proves to be like a wolf in sheep’s clothing convincing Edgar to help him develop a new video game using Echota as the likeness of Jim Thorpe. The dark humor,uncanny wit astounds as Edgar recollects of Jackson, “I always thought he was criminally insane, but others called him genius.”(78) The double entendre is not to be missed: Edgar’s encounters at the Darkening Land also wryly reflect an updated version of historic Native depredations.

The book is brimming with social commentary. Foremost, is the Cherokee belief in animism. Each of the Echotas comes face-to-face with spiritual messengers aimed at carrying their sadness and assuaging their grief. Tsala connects past to present in powerful ways through both his personal history of removal (forcible migration to the Oklahoma Territory) and in the morality tales he conveys. Finally, Edgar’s experiences in the Darkening Land itself is a commentary on the exploitation and attempted extermination of Native peoples, in this case of the Cherokee.

Despite the dark themes, the book ends on a hopeful note. When the Echota family finally gather to honor the fifteenth anniversary of Ray-Ray’s death, they are surrounded by Spirit: “We heard the creaking of oaks, the rustle of trees shaken alive by a gust of wind. We heard the incessant voices all around us, the voice of our people, our ancestors. . . “(270)

Told in fractured and intersecting storylines, the thread here was at times hard to follow. A little trust goes a long way, however, as Hobson unfolds a moving story steeped in Cherokee myths.

I really wanted to love this book but I just didn't enjoy it. The writing style just didn't flow well for me and I didn't really care about any of the characters. I'm pretty dissapointed, but I'm willing to read more from this author in the future.

I love indigenous stories and The Removed did not disappoint! Brandon Hobson eloquently depicts grief through each family member while tying in the perfect amount of Cherokee myths, history, and folklore. Loved the author's writing as well, I'll definitely be going back and reading his previous works!

I could not get into this book. It felt flat to me. It did not make me want to know more about the characters or what would happen.

I’ve always been intrigued by grief and how it is felt and displayed by different people from different cultures. This story follows one family as they grieve their son. I especially enjoyed reading about the Cherokee myths that Hobson introduces us to. I liked the book but the obscure ending threw me off a bit. *Advance copy provided by the publisher in exchange for my honest review.

Y’all, this audiobook was unlike anything I’ve ever listened to before - both just in the way the audiobooks was done and the actual story. THE REMOVED by Brandon Hobson uses Cherokee myths and history to tell the story of the Echota family grieving the loss of their son and brother, Ray-Ray, who was killed in a police shooting.

The audiobook was so, so well done. There are multiple narrators for multiple POVs, and the author beautifully ties familial grief to generational grief and historical trauma.

Reading other reviews on Goodreads had me irate. Please remember that not relating to characters is NOT a good reason to rate a book poorly - particularly if the characters are of different identities or cultures than you. Please just stop - and don’t let Goodread reviews deter you from this one.

CW // racism; slurs; Trail of Tears and genocide; colonialism; police shootings; drug abuse; sexual abuse; foster care; gun violence; animal death; dementia

I wanted to really love this one, but I had a lot of trouble with it. In addition to not knowing much about the Indigenous references and metaphors (I ended up Googling a lot), I really struggled with the characters here, mostly because they don't really intersect one another...each has their own separate story and it's tough to get a sense of relationship dynamics here. Left me feeling a little cold.

The Removed is a spectacular look at how the removal of the Cherokee from their homeland in 1838 is reflected in interactions today. The Echota family is planning their annual gathering commemorating the death of their son Ray-Ray by a cop who heard gunshots and fired at “the Indian kid.”

The use of Cherokee myths and history and the integration of birds to foreshadow and illuminate the action is brilliant. The characters are memorable and the “Darkening Land” is eerie, wryly portrayed, and omniscient. Read this novel slowly and with care to appreciate all the layers.

A haunting but intimate story that reminded me of Toni Morrison's Beloved. A family marked by tragedy that was the result of police violence finds themselves mourning more than the loss of their son/brother Ray-Ray fifteen years later. The narrative isn't always clear or even linear, but that's just how ghost stories go, right?

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this story. On the one hand I enjoy stories of myth or legend, and on the other I found myself a little bit confused as to what is going on. The story begins with a bang literally, when the middle child from the Echota family is killed in an encounter with police when he is just 15. Fast forward 15 years and the remaining kids have grown up, and the mother is now retired and the dad is starting to deteriorate from Alzheimer’s. Each person in the family seems to have been affected a little differently by the tragedy, and with the anniversary approaching each family member seems to go through a new set of strange experiences. Since the family are members of the Cherokee Nation they are perhaps influenced a little differently just based on their heritage and the long history of the tribe, and all they may have gone through just to survive. This story bounces around a lot without much in the way of transitions, and as the reader I kinda gathered that what is going on with the characters is somewhat open to interpretation. I didn’t love this, and I didn’t hate it. I feel like it wouldn’t appeal to everyone. I feel like in general that Native American cultures are not the subject in enough literature, so I am glad to see stories like this being written, I just wish I could track the meanings in this novel better. Review posted to Amazon, Litsy, Facebook, Goodreads, and LibraryThing.

This book is incredibly hard to read these days with so many BIPOC people being killed by police, but despite the tough subject matter, I loved the story of this family 15 years since they lost their son/brother. You have the matriarch, Maria, just wanting what's best for her remaining family members — sometimes too focused on them to mourn properly herself. Her husband, Ernest, is suffering from alzheimer's, her daughter Sonja who leads her solitary life with romantic trysts breaking up her time, and finally, there's Edgar, the youngest brother who's now grown into a man with a drug addition.

Every year, the family comes together to honor Ray-Ray along with their Cherokee heritage on September 6. But this year is different after Maria and Ernest host a foster child named Wyatt who feels like Ray-Ray reincarnate.

The book alternates perspectives between the family members, and while the Maria/Wyatt/Ernest storyline was my favorite, I really enjoyed the two siblings' stories too — both were kind of unsettling and creepy.

I really enjoyed this book, a heartbreaking, meditative exploration of a Native American family grieving the loss of a son and brother fifteen years later. With the recent murder of Daunte Wright - a tragic, wrong, and senseless killing - the story of the long-term impacts of a loved one lost to police brutality is more relevant than ever.

"The day before he died, in the remote town of Quah, Oklahoma, Ray-Ray Echota rode his motorcycle down the empty stretch of highway, blowing past rain puddles and trees, a strong wind pressing against his body. He was fifteen years old."

This is how the book begins - already signaling that Ray-Ray's tragic death would be the backdrop of this story. You don't even know how he dies yet, but any family losing their son at fifteen years old is a tragedy. In the first chapter, you learn about Ray-Ray, a sweet, charismatic young man and an excellent older brother to his young siblings. At the end of the chapter, you learn how he dies. You never see Ray-Ray from this point of view again - you just get this brief glimpse of him alive, then see him through his family's memories afterwards. That construction is powerful.

After Ray-Ray's death, the family decided to host a bonfire on the anniversary of Ray-Ray being shot by a police officer, to celebrate his life and bring the family and community together. The rest of the book takes place fifteen years later, in the weeks leading up to his anniversary bonfire.

His family is scattered and still broken because of his death - how can a family really come back from a tragedy like this? (And recent events make you realize: How many families have been forced to try to move on because a loved one was taken away from them so suddenly, by someone whose job is supposedly to "protect and serve"?)

Ray-Ray's parents are still living in their same house. His dad, Ernest suffers from Alzheimer's and memory loss, while his mom recently retired from her position as a tribal social worker. They agree to foster a young Cherokee boy named Wyatt, who reminds them more and more of Ray-Ray every day that he's in their house. Ray-Ray's sister lives in the area and, during the narrative of the book, begins a toxic relationship with a white man. His brother, Edgar, is addicted to drugs and living in New Mexico - his family hasn't been able to get in touch with him and has no idea if he'll be coming home for the bonfire.

The book almost feels like a dream, with many of the characters slightly detached from reality in that way that depression and grief forces you to be. Despite fifteen years passing, Ray-Ray's death still hangs above them. I loved all of the characters dearly, and despite frustrating moments, you desperately want them all to succeed and thrive, in the way Ray-Ray would have wanted them to.

This is the sort of book that will stay with you for a long time. I'm sure I'll benefit from a re-read sometime in the future and catch things that I missed the first time around. Thank you to the publisher for the ARC via Netgalley!

Brandon Hobson's The Removed is a lyrical and spiritual tapestry, woven by the voices of a Cherokee family torn by violence. The missing piece around which the story rotates is Ray-Ray, an ebullient teenager murdered by a police officer. As the fifteenth anniversary of his death draws near, each member of his family interacts with their grief and anger in their own way. This book parallels contemporary issued facing Indigenous people in America with the struggles and violence faced during the time of the Trail of Tears, the connections more strongly tied together by the fact that Ray-Ray was killed on the anniversary of the signing of the Oklahoma Cherokee Nation's constitution. Storytelling and oral traditions are important in drawing the past in contact with the present. Hobson's writing is strong and poignant, bringing both beauty and horror into relief in this book.

(I am a non-Native, white reviewer, and so am a privileged outsider who can only provide a one dimensional perspective, but I am thankful to have been given the opportunity to read and review this book. Many thanks to NetGalley and Ecco Books and HarperCollins.)

"I wouldn't give up on him. I was consumed by an emptiness I tried to fill however I could: through prayer, meditation, journaling. For the first time in many years, I struggled to sleep at night, worried about Edgar and Ernest. At such times I always felt that an epiphany was about to come to me, but I was never able to put my finger on it." - Maria Echota, The Removed

That passage describes motherhood in a way I've never been able to put into words. Anytime you experience your child struggling, that's exactly what it's like to stay up late worrying as a mother.

Wow. This book is quite different than anything I've read before. Overall you are thrown into a Cherokee family still dealing with the shooting death of their teenage son, Ray-Ray and brother, by a local police officer. It's a heavy read, and there is an overall feeling of sadness, without outright causing me to cry. All family members are struggling in their own way, 15 years later.
Ernest, Ray-Ray's father has Alzheimer's, and his sister Sonja is on her own destructive path. Edgard, Ray-Ray's brother is an addict, and you will experience addiction through the eyes and mind of an addict. It's an interesting take. But there is also hope when the family takes in a foster child who reminds them of their son, and the will for a family to continue to come together and survive life's horrible losses.

This is one that takes a while to digest, and plenty of things to think about when applied to your own life.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for my advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.

I loved how the book moved between several voices and I especially adored hearing from Ray-Ray's mother, Maria. Her ability to find some pleasure in each day and opening up her heart to caring for a foster child after the death of Rae-Rae was very touching . The magical realism added another element to the story that connected it to the Cherokee folklore. It's hard to read about stereotypes and prejudice that this family faces all the while dealing with their grief and loss. A moving novel that I would recommend.