A tricky piece of work, dreamy and intense, also blurry and repetitive as it delves into the guilt and mystery of a sibling’s death/disappearance and its impact on everyone concerned. The family is mixed race and the issue thus much larger and more complex. The author has a high reputation and the new novel will extend that praise among those who enjoy this inventive yet provocative type of storytelling.

2.5 Two parts. First part, Cassandra was twelve, Wayne, seven when the ocean took Wayne, despite Cassandra's efforts to rescue him. His body is never found. Visceral descriptions, feelings of grief. A family torn apart. A young girl who never gets over her responsibility in Wayne's death. Or is Wayne just missing? Alternate scenarios are explored and at first it is hard to figure out what is true or not. But this first section, though confusing, tugs at the heartstrings

But .....then comes part two and this is where the author loses me. A new character, a case of mistaken identity and though it connects to the first part, I didn't like this part. Found it strange, unbelievable, the meaning not clear. Unanswered questions. Maybe I'm just not deep enough, I don't know but for me, it didn't work. For other readers it did

Buddy read with my friend Angela and we are both hoping our next read will be a better one

ARC from Netgalley.

A young woman struggles to come to terms with the death of her brother when they were children, while her mother holds out hope that he’s alive since no body was ever found. I'm only giving it a three because I got tired of the alternate versions and was ready to quit half way through, but was glad I didn't.

2.5 stars rounded up.
This novel felt like it was about the depths of grief and loss, and it’s a stunning portrayal of a family coping with that loss, the emotional trauma, the impact of it on them. However, it was one of those books that I didn’t quite “get” what was happening, in particular Part II. Why round up to three stars, then? Because of the amazing depiction of grief and because the main character, Cee repeats “I don’t want to tell you what happened. I want to tell you how it felt.” She does. There are other reviews that tell more about the book, but in all fairness, since I didn’t quite understand everything, I’ll just leave it at this brief comment.

I read this with my book buddy Diane and we definitely agreed on this one . I was happy that I wasn’t the only one confused.

I received a copy of this from Penguin Random House through NetGalley.

A powerful poetic story of grief, connection and the power of remembering. It was captivated by this story and Namwalli's clear voice and emotion,

THE FURROWS is a gorgeous and elegiac exploration of grief and self-identity. Highly recommended for fans of literary fiction.

As other reviewers have noted, the book is divided into distinct parts and the second narrator does appear somewhat suddenly, jolting the reader into a new perspective. However, as you settle in, the narrative really flows.

I particularly enjoyed the ending chapters, which provided an elegant conclusion that still leaves some aspects of deciphering the story up to the reader's imagination and judgment.

Namwali Serpell is clearly an impressive literary talent. I look forward to diving in to her backlist.

The first half of this forthcoming novel is a beautiful, lyrical meditation on grief. When C’s seven-year-old brother, Wayne, dies, the entire family takes it hard. Her Black father moves to Georgia and remarries. Her white mother creates a foundation for missing children in Wayne’s honor. And C keeps seeing him, everywhere, rippling reality like the surface of a lake. Grief is ever-present, the dead never really leave us. Grief restructures reality.

The second half, from a different narrator whose identity we piece together over the course of it, lost me a little (even though it takes place in the Bay Area and I recognized a lot of the places). I didn’t find this narrator’s voice to be as compelling, nor the plot payoff worth it in the end. I’d recommend reading just the first half of this, as some of its hauntings will stick with me for a long time.

Tell you for free-- I requested this from NetGalley solely based on the author, because I loved 2019's generational fanily saga, The Old Drift, so much. Otherwise I probably would have skipped over, I don't read nearly as much literary contemporary as other genres.

It was worth the gamble. Grief, especially the sort stemming from a childhood tragedy, is a messy thing with sharp edges and fuzzy ones, crying out for closure that may never come. This novel reflects that well. C's little brother drowned when she was 12, he was 7, and no body recovered. The first act deals primarily with that, from the sister's POV, dealing with a broken family, a mother determined not to give up hope though in ways that are detrimental to anyone else's closure, and navigating a coming of age under the shadow of tragedy.

I'm afraid to go too much into part 2 because spoilers. I went in blind and I think that serves best. I'll say you're thrust into a new POV quite suddenly and it serves well to give a reader a sense of non-closure because you don't know WHAT to think. A bit of stream of consciousness adds to the melee of feelings.

At the end of it all, this is a book that explores grief, inability to let go, in an extremely visceral way. You're gonna feel all kind of ways. I would TW for those that have experienced the sort of gut-wrenching tragedy of non-closure. It's a great book but it *hurts*.

3.5 stars, rounded up.

As with Namwali Serpell's debut novel, [book:The Old Drift|40060700], I think this book was too smart for me. It was beautifully written though and definitely explores some interesting themes, so I'll be curious to read more analytical reviews when this comes out in September!

DNF - I attempted to read this book twice & both times found myself stalling at the same point in the story. Though the writing was something that immediately drew me in & though this was a book that I wanted to adore, ultimately, I could not connect with the story in the way that I would have hoped. As the story developed, the writing surpassed the essence of the plot & made me feel that a different medium would have better suited the prose that was being employed here.

Billed as: "A brilliantly inventive novel about loss and belonging...Cassandra Williams [C] is twelve, and her little brother Wayne is seven. One day, when they're alone together, an accident happens and Wayne is lost forever. Or so it seems. Though his body is never recovered, their mother, unable to give up hope, launches an organization [Vigil] dedicated to missing children. Their father simply leaves, starts another family somewhere else. As C grows older, she sees her brother everywhere ... C meets a man both mysterious and strangely familiar, a man who is also searching for someone, as well as his own place in the world. His name is Wayne."

This book captured my attention from the start [mostly because of the language].

However, it seemed to me that this was really [almost] two novellas--C's story, then "Will"/Wayne's [not her brother, Wayne]. I have to reconcile the difference between the two halves of the book [which are ultimately connected, but...]. I very much enjoyed the first half--beautifully descriptive language; the second half a much different, raw, darker vibe and the voice--"street."

About grief, identity, loneliness, memory, reality--or dreams? Family--C's relationship in particular with her mother and her foundation [and all it implies]--her father [less so since he exits], and her two grandmothers.

Some of the language/images I loved:

"exhaustion crowded me"
a dandelion--"...moon becomes the stars, She blew, sending the seeds in a galatic shower."
"...cotton candy, a sticky pink afro bursting from a paper cone"
"...tourists stumbed on together, snailslow, huge backpacks for shells"
So many more [in C's voice].

C has a white mother and a black father; Namwali's parents are the reverse. She too grew up outside Baltimore [as depicted in the novel]. "Note: ...to be pretty if you're mixed race--some sort of averaging out of the stronger features of each side--but sometmes you just come out looking jumbled."

And--no spoiler from me--I didn't particularly care for the ending.

So this is a hard one to evaluate. More admirable than enjoyable. A solid 4 but then devolved. I hit upon a 3.5 but cannot round up as I didnt find it consistently a 4.

This was such a fascinating read. At times impressionist in its approach, it explores trauma and grief in a haunting, provocative way.

This book was beautifully written about grief and loss. It felt like two separate stories at times. It was hard for me to follow what was real and what was a literary device. But I do believe this book did a good job of explaining what grief felt like.

The Furrows began lyrically, tragicalling, pulling me into the promise of a profound reflection on ambiguous grief. But it collapses soon afterwards. It was often confusing, as it evolved into a philosophical tale that was hard to follow or relate to.

As the parent of biracial children, I am so grateful to see this inclusion, as books with mixed race characters are rare finds, but this story did not work for me beyond that.

I am immensely grateful to Hogarth Press and NetGalley for my digital review copy. All opinions are my own.

Multi-layered and absorbing, don't miss this one! It's a complex plot that will keep you wondering and guessing. A bit of street lit mixed with mystery, I'm guessing this one will find a wide audience and generate a great deal of buzz. For readers who like to be the first on the block to read a future bestseller, here is your novel.

https://thewritersreader.wordpress.com

~~~~Sharon

I loved the author's previous work, The Old Drift, so was really looking forward to this one.

The literary structure is innovative to say the least. The first part of the book is engrossing but the second feel disjointed. Maybe it will need another read to appreciate it fully.

However, the author's talent shows through so I will be looking forward to the next one as well.

Absolutely thrilling to get a new novel from this author. Old Drift was completely engrossing and hasn't left my mind since I finished it months ago. I wish I could say I love this new effort, but I think it's going to take another read for me to firm up my opinion.

A creative novel about grieving a sibling, but so much more than just that. It also includes race, family dynamics, and trauma.
“I don’t want to tell you what happened. I want to tell you how it felt.”
Who can’t connect with those words? Cassandra sees her brother, Wayne, everywhere after he disappears. I was on board with the first part of the book until it became redundant, and the second half was narrated by Wayne, the could-be-or-maybe-not brother. The writing becomes more fast paced, which is entertaining, but doesn’t feel cohesive.

I honestly have no idea how to write this review because I didn't really "get" this book, or like it. I understand it's a story about grief and identity and race, but beyond that, I can't really tell you much. It's an experimental novel, but I'm not sure that its experimentation with form is successful. The story is split into two parts, and none of those parts really work: the first is quite repetitive, and then the second feels so different that it doesn't end up feeling connected to the first part at all. I don't categorically hate experimental novels, and I don't need to fully "get" a novel in order to appreciate what it's doing, or to even like it, but I'm just so lost when it comes to The Furrows. On a more fundamental level, I just did not get along with the writing in this book. The first couple of pages led me to believe that it was going to be lyrical and moving, but really the more you read the more the writing becomes stiff and tonally jarring. Sometimes it's nice, but other times it's weirdly grandiose and philosophizing. At one point during a sex scene where the narrator is taking her clothes off the text reads, "the absurdity of this drapery we all wear, the slapstick comedy of removing it." Little lines like that where the book's attempts to be Deep end up feeling forced and especially cliched.

I can only speculate, but The Furrows felt to me like a novel that shaped the story around its ideas rather than the other way around, more invested in the ideas it was trying to communicate instead of the story it was using to convey those ideas. All of this is to say, the characters were more a tool for the story's themes and not actual developed characters. I love novels that have at their heart certain themes/ideas that they're trying to explore, but when those themes/ideas aren't actually grounded in the characters and their stories, then chances are I won't be invested. And I wasn't: The Furrows went completely over my head, both in the sense that I didn't get it, but even more in the sense that it was utterly forgettable to me.

Thanks to Hogarth Press for providing me with an eARC of this via NetGalley!

I couldn't put the book down for Part 1. The way each family member dealt with the brother's loss showed how differently each person grieves. C' was such a strong character and in all of the scenes with her in it I was engrossed. Part 2- Mo and others felt like a different book for a while. I wasn't sure why it was there. By the end of the book I understood more. Very moving. The emotions in the book kept ebbing and rising like the waves in an ocean.