(S)Kin was a refreshingly different novel. Told in verse from alternating narrators, (S)Kin is seeped in Caribbean folklore. Marisol is the daughter of a soucouyant and like her mother and the soucouyants before her she sheds her skin at the new moon. Her spirit flies searching lives to drink from to keep her alive. Meanwhile, Genevieve is adjusting to life with his dad’s new wife and difficult twin half sister babies. She struggles with skin issues until Marisol’s mother arrives at her home as a nanny. This is where the stories start to intertwine.

Thank you Netgalley and HarperCollins for the ARC in exchange for an honest review!

“(S)Kin” by Ibi Zoboi is a YA novel in verse that brings together Caribbean folklore, themes of identity, and the complexities of immigration. This haunting and thought-provoking story follows two teenage girls, Marisol and Genevieve, as they navigate the challenges of their magical heritage and their search for belonging in a world that doesn't quite understand them.

The book introduces Marisol, a fifteen-year-old who has recently arrived in Brooklyn with her mother, both of them fleeing their past on the islands. Marisol comes from a line of soucouyants—shape-shifting witches who shed their skin and transform into fireballs to feed on the life force of others. In Brooklyn's bustling urban landscape, Marisol feels out of place, torn between the traditions of her mother and her desire to escape the legacy of her supernatural abilities.

Seventeen-year-old Genevieve, on the other hand, is the daughter of an anthropology professor and is struggling to fit into her father's predominantly white family. With a skin condition that she cannot explain and a deep sense of disconnection from her cultural roots, Genevieve's journey takes an unexpected turn when a new nanny's arrival reveals a hidden connection to Marisol.

The magic in this book is not just a plot device; it’s a metaphor for the girls' inner turmoil, their search for identity, and their struggles with feeling like outsiders in both their homes and society. The use of Caribbean folklore—particularly the figure of the soucouyant—is beautifully rendered, adding layers of mystery and myth to the narrative. The blending of folklore with the characters' immigrant experiences in Brooklyn creates a unique perspective on themes of displacement and belonging.

Zoboi's choice to present the story in verse adds a poetic quality that amplifies the emotional depth of the characters' experiences. The prose is lyrical, haunting, and perfectly suited to the otherworldly tone of the story. The free verse allows the story to float between reality and myth, capturing the essence of things that are difficult to define or explain. I absolutely loved the writing in this book as it’s so beautiful and adds so much to the tone and to the characters within the story.

One of the book’s other strengths is its exploration of generational dynamics and the complex relationships between mothers and daughters. The tension between holding onto cultural traditions and the desire to break free from them is a central theme that resonates throughout the story. Both Marisol and Genevieve's experiences are marked by their relationships with their mothers—women who have shaped their lives in powerful ways, even in their absence.

The conclusion is open-ended, leaving room for interpretation, which could be either frustrating or thought-provoking, depending on your perspective. I personally wanted more of a closed ending as it’s a bit ambiguous, and I wanted more of a definitive conclusion to the story, though maybe it’s setting up for more exploration in this world and with the characters in the future.

Overall, “S(Kin)” is a beautifully crafted story about identity, heritage, and the struggle to find a place in a world that often forces you to choose one version of yourself over another. With its lyrical prose, rich cultural references, and compelling characters, “S(Kin)” is a must-read for anyone interested in YA fantasy that focuses on belonging and self-discovery.

I don't usually go for books written in prose, just because I don't really "click" with the format. The description of this one, though, made me decide to take a chance on it, and I am so glad I did.
The story is captivating and beautiful and heartbreaking, all at once. The prose is lyrical and haunting. I know next to nothing about Caribbean folklore, so this was such a treat to discover.
3.5 stars, rounded up
Thanks to Netgalley for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!

Imagine you are a creature of Caribbean folklore - a soucouyant or lougarou, a shape-shifting witch who sheds her skin every new moon and hunts the souls of those who have wronged you during the month. Imagine being that - but also an undocumented migrant in Brooklyn? Or the mixed-race daughter of an anthropology professor who made it his life's work to put those legends to the scientific test? Your skin problems must be eczema, you think. Or gluten intolerance, what else could it be?

This story follows two teenage girls who are just that. Marisol, who has just arrived in New York with her mother from the islands, and who has yet to decide which prejudice she "prefers" to suffer from: that of the magic-believing people back home (where both were shunned as "witches") or that of the racialized hierarchy in the U.S. (where what is available to them is very much defined by the markers society has placed on them: "black", "immigrant", "poor", "undocumented"). Genevieve, on the other hand, seems to live a life of privilege, the daughter of a college professor, but she never knew her mother and grew up as the only half-black person in her father's and stepmother's family, which now includes two baby half-siblings, lacking any connection to the culture that would help her make sense of herself.

What comes to mind when you think of novels in verse? I have to admit that I imagine something from the time of Lord Byron, which I appreciate for its historical value, but which I hardly reach for out of personal interest. It turns out that a novel in verse can even take the form of a contemporary YA fantasy, and to quite a powerful effect! Where prose would be too concrete of a medium, free verse here allows for half-capturing, half-hinting at what should never be put into a fully defined form, but should remain in-com-pro-hen-sible.

As good poetry can do, this novel touches on so much more than its main fantasy plot about magic. It is also about motherhood and generational dynamics, about displacement and belonging... "We have left the place where we make sense," the heroine muses, and (as someone who has been thinking a lot about various displacement narratives lately) I think this is such a great way to capture the feeling that many of them share.

However, there is one question that I would like to raise here, not as a criticism, but out of pure curiosity: why does the author choose to present Caribbean cultures as a homogeneous continuum, and to list the ways in which, for example, the folklore of Haiti, Trinidad, and Jamaica refers to the mythical creature in question as a list of synonyms, rather than locating the story in the specificity of one culture? All the events "back home" are referred to as having taken place somewhere on the islands, again without any geographical specificity. As the author is a native of Haiti and not an outsider prone to generalizations out of ignorance, I am sure there were good reasons for this choice, but what are they, other than greater accessibility for those ignorant outsiders among the readers (like myself), I really wonder.

4,5 stars.

Publication date Feb 11, 2025.

I am grateful to HarperCollins for providing me with a free eARC of this title through NetGalley; the opinions expressed are entirely my own.

This book was so many things all at the same time until I can’t quite put into words how I was feeling as I read it. I’m so glad I decided to read this one. Great read!!

A super unique YA Caribbean Fantasy, nothing like I have ever read before.
3.5 stars rounded up.

Thanks to Netgalley and the Publisher for the ARC.

Well, what the fuck… that ending is a trip and I don’t know how I feel about it. I really loved the mythology and the stories and so many good-interesting things happening with the storytelling. I really liked the way the third part was such a mash-up of Marisol and Genevieve. Absolutely giving me thinky-thoughts and really not sure about the ending…