The Antidote is a masterpiece of a novel. In the shortest of summations, I’d call it historical fiction about Nebraska in the 1930s. The book opens and closes with two mega storms that occurred in real life: Black Sunday and the Republican River Flood. We experience these events through five main players: Asphodel Oletsky (a teenage basketball player cum hooligan), her uncle, the local Prairie Witch, Cleo Allfrey (a New Deal photographer), and the local sheriff. Between the storms, there is self realization for all these characters. One copes with the loss of a mother, one continues grieving a child, one comes to understand their role in the mostly successful ethnocide of the Pawnee people of Nebraska. Throughout all these grounded and human experiences, Russell weaves magical elements in her words and scenery. Often, while reading scenes of Asphodel spending time with the Prairie Witch, I would picture the work of Leonora Carrington and Remedios Varo. Her choices when describing things are literally delicious: “freedom turned out to be a territory we occupied.” “If this is hell, and I am tinder for eternal fire, why should I feel such joy?” Aside from her word paintings, there are actual photographs in the novel, taken from the Library of Congress archives. It brought me so much joy to see these images, depressing as some are, because visiting their digital archives is one of my favorite things to do. In the novel, the photographs are by Cleo Allfrey, a Black Woman traveling the country alone. She is constantly undermined by her boss and is a mostly stoic character, which makes supplying her with a magical camera feel more real, like some of the best Twilight Zone episodes.

The expanding and collapsing of time and space within a novel is no small feat and Russell pulls it off. It reminds me of another deeply affecting recent historical fiction, The Night Watchman. They both take place in native lands, both imagined and real. The displacement happens not only in America, but in Poland, and the people are not the only ones to suffer from the brutalities of colonialism. Most Americans are only beginning to truly understand the atrocities this so-called nation has been committing here, since its inception. It has also been a willing assistant for atrocities overseas and we see the pattern continuing ad nauseum. If fiction is a place to grapple with these events, The Antidote belongs on any to be read list. Like The Night Watchman before it, it should probably also receive The Pulitzer Prize. When I finished the book my friend walked in on me crying. When you feel it that deeply, and there are so many feelings to choose from… that’s good fiction.

Karen Russell does not disappoint with this wildly imaginative and deeply moving tale of grief, dispossession, and ultimately, reconciliation. Russell is a brilliant and poignant writer, able to paint so vividly with her language that it is almost like a visual medium. The characters in this book are all untied by loss and an ability to see truth, whether supernatural or mundane. They are all afraid. And yet, they are all compelled to act despite their fears. It is that agency that makes the characters populating this novel so dynamic and captivating. The ending sequence at Founders Day is the weakest part of the piece simply because it verges on preachiness without any actionable solutions. Very little is resolved, except for the cat’s story, which feels especially unsatisfying after such a hearty journey, But the journey is well worth it, nonetheless.

Fans of Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead will want to grab this gorgeous magical-realist novel set on the Nebraska prairie during the height of the Dust Bowl climate disaster. Russell, a MacArthur grant winner, is best known for her collections of short stories, and this is only her second novel after the 2012 Pulitzer finalist Swamplandia! It is well worth the wait, offering a ferociously moving meditation on America’s refusal to come to terms with the violence and injustice of its own past. The story begins on “Black Sunday,” April 14, 1935, when tornadic dust storms destroyed farmland throughout the Great Plains, and a variety of point-of-view characters lead the reader to an intimate understanding of the Great Midwestern Drought that decimated the farmlands of the American prairie and worsened the Great Depression.

The premise sounds grim, but Russell draws on some of our most enchanting national myths to bring these characters to life. The alert reader will quickly realize that yes, this novel is set in the fictional town of Uz, Nebraska, in the depths of the Dust Bowl Depression, and yes, the inhabitants are menaced by dust tornados, and yes, the main characters are a scrappy orphan girl, a mysterious scarecrow, a stiff midwestern bachelor searching for love, and an exhausted prairie witch whose task it is to collect the toxic memories of her neighbors and store them away inside herself. But Russell’s evocations of L. Frank Baum’s American fairytale are subtle and never distract from the gritty, tender, fierce realism of this expansive story. The supernatural elements of the novel are infused with such a deep, compassionate humanity that the reader never has the sense that this is anything but a completely true story. Russell has created a masterpiece that will probably be on many 2025 award lists.

The main thing I learned from this book is that I just do not appreciate the author's writing as so many do. I found it flat and boring as well as overwritten

Well this was absolutely tedious. The flat writing, the attempt to push WAY too much into this story, and the hollow moralizing and hand-wringing all work together to make this one of the most tiresome books I've ever read. It's so bad that despite knowing I'd liked Russell's previous work while I was reading I'd have to keep wondering why.

Let's jump to the big offense first: the hand-wringing. The constant feeling bad. The reams of pages and pages wasted on white guilt. The truly insane trajectory of these scenes where either a) the white character is confronted by their racism and openly repents of it or b) the white character bears witness to systemic racism and comprehends their part in it. I...what? Has anyone seen this? Ever? In real life? I'm not saying people don't grow or change: I'm saying that the space of a conversation isn't enough to convince someone a culturally beloved movie is overrated, never mind get someone to apologize for a racist comment or perception they made at the top of the talk. But that's how fast the about-face seems to happen here. And if the character isn't in a conversation they're full on understanding their place in the historical moment which is even more laughably unreal. Again: not saying a person can't come to this understanding. But if you're doing farmwork, what? 18 hours a day? And also your wife has had three miscarriages and you're crazy depressed and homesick, do you really have the bandwidth for full conscious knowledge of your part in an ongoing genocide? These cohesive, thesis-like sections where these characters lay out the wrongs done to the Native people felt, well, like theses. Accurate, to be sure. Important, to be sure. But written very much like something that belonged in an article, not a novel. Characters cannot exist as mouthpieces for admitting the wrongs of the past, because then they cease to be characters. And if they are no longer characters then this is less a novel and more a Very Special Episode: Dust Bowl edition.

It definitely doesn't help that there is literally no Native character with anything resembling a personality. The most compelling aspects of Zintkala Nuni's part of the story are factual and nothing to do with Russell's invention; Dell's Native teammate gets to talk about being Native and that's it; and then there's the girl Harp's mother tries to save who has, I think, three lines of dialogue. This would be absolutely galling, if most of the white characters weren't also written with such thin, incomplete strokes. The villainous sheriff, for example, is never more than the Villainous Sheriff. There's no depth to him or to most of the other characters. They feel as incomplete as the plot, which brings me to the second major issue: there's too much going on here. Murder investigations! Basketball tournaments! Young love! Old love! And guess what? None of that gets a proper follow-through.

The murders I could let go of (because one of the few consistent throughlines was Dell trying to accept the lack of closure to her mother's death)...had we not spent so long on the cover-up of that one killing. Again, the hand-wringing here was legion: the Antidote fretting and agonizing over her responsibility to this woman and then after showing photographs of her being moved just like...completely forgetting about her. (Just like the novel's ending completely forgets to offer a real solution for being complicit in the taking of Native lands!) But forgetting, after all, is the theme here, right? Forgetting to show the moment when Dell and Valeria became a couple (one chapter Dell is hard-core longing, and the next, somehow, they're already kissing? without talking about it? like they do it all the time, the hell); forgetting to have literally anyone from Uz show up at the basketball game (I though the team was supposed to be a beacon of hope for the town? how can that be if no one even cares to come watch?); forgetting to explain why, exactly, the sheriff made the Antidote listen while he drowned kittens. (With how often it was brought up I thought there was going to be a flashback to her asking for one of the cat's kittens and him killing them all to spite her or something, but no. No real reason except that a Villainous Sheriff's got to Villain.) How exhausting to be kept waiting for all of that to be brought out and brought together only for absolutely none of it to be.

But speaking of waiting, I'll give some credit where it's due: the resolution of the Antidote finally finding her son was lovely. One of the few places where the fantastical elements of the story really worked. Also one of the spots of genuinely elevated writing, which was a nice reprieve because, hoo boy, elsewhere it was dull af.

It's never bad. It's never unreadable. But it's clunky, and lacking in verve. The dialogue feels especially tepid and unnatural. I don't get how a writer of Russell's level hasn't noticed that when English speakers talk - unless they're fresh to the language - we use contractions whenever we can. Drop them for emphasis, sure, but otherwise what the hell are you doing pronouncing "it is"?? It's such a small thing, I know, but it's such a small thing to correct too. And an oversight like this makes me feel crazy for having expected better on the other, more complicated aspects of this book.

I guess that's the bottom line, though: I expected better. I expected characters to have messy reactions to the atrocities around them; process them; and come out on the other side in a way that felt like they were bringing me with them. I expected that being told a girls' basketball team mattered in the chaos of all that dust would lead to them actually mattering. I expected a character who stored people's memories to understand from the jump that, no shit, her line of work involves shady cover-ups. I expected a decent book, not this wearisome slog.

But hey. At least I got to see a picture of a Dust Bowl-era cat.

Beautiful premise and gorgeous writing as always but this one really went off the rails two-thirds of the way through and didn't cohere. I was disappointed in the end, even more so given how much I love her other work.

Although THE ANTIDOTE is set in the fictional town of Uz, Nebraska, it reflects the horrible Dust Bowl era during the Great Depression of the 1930's. Uz has a Black Sunday when there was a sort of dust blizzard. Most everything in the town was covered; buildings, farms, vehicles and people. Many people died and others suffer lung illnesses afterwards.
This novel is told by a wide variety of characters. The title character believes herself to be a prairie witch. She calls herself the Antidote because she takes away people's deepest secrets that continue to plague them. They speak into an ear horn and she files them into a Vault in case they want them again some day. Of course, most people never do that.

Harp Oletsky is another pivotal character. Only his farm survives Black Sunday in all of Nebraska. He ends up taking in his niece Delle. She is a fantastic basketball player and continues to lead her team after the Coach leaves for a safer place. Eventually, Delle believes she has the same gift as the prairie witch and wants to be her apprentice.

There are other characters that seem to have special talents. The author uses a fair amount of fantasy and magic realism to flesh most of this saga.

Several of the characters have similarities in their past where they have been torn away from their native land. The part that resonated most with me was how all of people now live on land stolen from Indigenous tribes. The author writes about horrific events that occurred along the plot of this novel and also in the Author's Notes. Although we can't change the past, we can make things more equitable.

The issue of climate is woven into this fantastic story. The poor planting decisions in the Midwest contributed to a lot of the Dust Bowl era. As modern issues are ignored, the whole earth has horrific storms and heat waves.

This is the first novel that author Karen Russell has written since SWAMPLANDIA. It's not an easy read, but it's a very important one.

Thanks to Knopf Publishers, the author and NetGalley for giving me opportunity to read and review this book

Like everything I have read by Karen Russell, The Antidote is a difficult book to review. The story intertwines five characters, with three-ish narrators (there are a few more, but there are three main narrators) set in a Nebraska town where people are leaving at an alarming rate due to the failure of their crops and farms. With the real life devastation of loss and failure as the backdrop, Russell writes a story filled with superstition, magical realism, and hope. One of the main characters, known as the Antidote, is a “Prairie Witch” or “Vault”, a person who for a small fee will hold onto your worst memories and secrets so that you can live a happy life. She encounters a young girl, Dell, who has lost her mother and is living with her uncle Harp, who's farm is the only one where crops seem to be thriving under the watchful eye of a sentient scarecrow. Added to this is a serial killer, The Lucky Rabbit Foot Killer going through Nebraska killing women, crooked cops, and a black photographer, Cleo, who has been sent to Nebraska to be a photographer for FDR, but whose camera is taking photographs of the horrible history of the region. The Antidote is a deeply unsettling yet wonderfully beautiful novel that is not easily forgotten.

This is not a quick read. This is not a novel that you can just zip through and go onto the next thing. Karen Russell writes books that demand your attention, that need to be absorbed. Stories that will sink into you and make you think about them for hours when you are not reading. The density of her writing is one of those aspects that can be appreciated because the story is supposed to be heavy, the situation the characters find themselves in is difficult, and the deep sadness of loss and everything that you own being destroyed is something that can be felt in the pages of The Antidote, like the hurt that the characters experience is real. And some of the story is real. The story of The Antidote is told against the backdrop of a drought in Nebraska, with dust storms killing crops and everyone starving to death. The buffaloes have been slaughtered, and the Native Americans have been pushed off the land. The violence and blood have soaked into the land, and this story is the result of this history. The real history and the magic that Russell adds makes a story that is immersive and heartbreaking.

Karen Russell’s writing is hard to review because it is nearly perfect. This is one of the few novels I have read in a long time where I just want to write “No notes.” Russell has written another novel where there is not much that can be said about it besides praise. Though it is not an easy read, it is an important read because Russell is writing the new American classics. 

I received this as an ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

I received this book in exchange for an honest review from NetGalley. Wow, this is such an ambitious story that I'm having trouble reviewing it. The Antidote is a mashup of historical fiction with some magical realism elements, but it's so much more than that. Only an author of Russell's caliber could pull off such a feat. Definitel had moments of being in awe of her brain to craft such a story. When I began this Dust Bowl- era novel about a witch, I had no idea where it would go - and I want to let anyone who reads this take the same journey, so I can't get into plot much. I think I land around 4-4.5 stars with this book overall - there were parts that were a little dry and slow for me. While 432 isn't terribly long, I think it could have been a little shorter.

“But everyone misremembers vividly… A memory is never the fullness of what happened.”
This is one of those rare books that went right back onto my TBR list the moment I finished it. The Antidote is a magnificent novel that masterfully blends magical realism, historical fiction, and sharp reflections on greed, silence, and humanity.
It asks: does the heinousness of an act disappear if it’s never spoken of—if history simply refuses to remember? This book doesn’t just tell a story; it invites you to slow down, to re-read passages, to let the weight of its words settle and stir something in you.
There are so many layers I’d love to unpack in a formal setting—The Prairie Witch, the Scarecrow, Cleo! Much like the Antidote herself, this novel may prove divisive. It’s heavy, unapologetically bold, and leans socially progressive in ways that may challenge some readers. But for me, that’s what makes it courageous.
A fiercely original and hauntingly told story. I can’t recommend it enough.

After 43 days, I am calling it. I can’t push myself any further. I tried the digital arc that I received, then I added the audio, then I added a print copy, in hopes that I would be able to push thru. I love this period of US History, but the slow meandering plot just did me in. Also, at this part of the book, some things were added to the story that I felt just slowed it down further and didn’t make sense with where things were going. I read the last few chapters and, honestly, I wish I’d have stopped trying weeks ago. Many people love this one, so don’t take only my word for it. It just sadly wasn’t the book for me.

Thanks to Knopf for allowing me to read this one. I love Dust Bowl stuff and it stinks that this one didn’t work out for me.

I loved this book. Unique, interesting, and varied characters, a very bleak setting, a lot of grief and loss, a little bit of mystery. A perfect blend of magical realism, which I know is not for everyone, but I really enjoyed those elements. I was rooting for all of these characters throughout the entire story, and would have gladly read another 100+ pages. Ultimately a story of hope, community, love, and resilience.

THE ANTIDOTE
Karen Russell
#gifted by @aaknopf (thank y’all!!)
+my camellias you have to see.

This isn’t the same silly-serious book (like Wolves, Swamplandia!, Vampires, or Orange World) we’re used to from one of our favorite authors, but “The Antidote” still has that Russellian hint of weirdness with witches and scarecrows, but a lot of this is sort of character driven historical fiction too.

If it’s uncool to compare a book to an author’s prior works, which it isn’t, then the fragmentariness of this kept me from feeling as attached to the main character as I remember feeling in Swamplandia! — when a Russell plot gets twisty and complicated and stitched and cross stitched, I do a better job reading when I have a character to cling to. This one follows several threads doing this, and while they need each other, it makes for a dizzying experience. Honestly, it’s a lot to keep up with, and that makes for a stolid novel. It’s not unwieldy, it’s just EXPANSIVE and immersive. If any of the book felt a bit low energy or winding, it’s balanced by excellent lines and quirky, vivid action sequences.

This one’s gonna get lots of love and be read for a long, long time. A solid addition to a stellar palate of work from one of the most interesting authors at work in the US today.

Wow! This was a little bit of everything, rolled into a compelling read. Racism…past and present. Loss, grief, violence, corruption, mob-mentality. Gritty and bleak, yet ultimately hopeful.

Karen Russell’s newest, The Antidote, is at times a great book, is at times a befuddling book, and is, in a few instances, a flawed book. The strengths of the book are many: wonderful character creation; the exploration of gravely important themes such as historical erasure, the treatment of Indigenous people, the shaming of women; a healthy dose of magical realism via a magical camera, a sentient scarecrow, and memory-vault “witches”; and wonderfully rich, vivid description. The issues crop up with regard to character presentation, thematic resolution, pacing, and some (to me) odd authorial decision. In the end, the good outweighs the less good, though I found myself wishing the book had more fully met the teasing potential it so often offered.

The book opens (after a horribly vivid prologue involving a mass slaughter of rabbits) with an historical event, the Black Sunday Dust Bowl storm of 1935 as it sweeps over the town of Uz, Nebraska. It will end with an historical event as well, this one involving rain and floods rather than wind and dust. In between the two, an odd group comes together in service of justice both local and universal, both for a single person locked up in prison and an entire peoples erased from the land.

This group is made up of:
The Antidote: the “stage name” for a local prairie witch. These witches act as “memory vaults” — people “deposit” the things they wish to forget with the witch and then can, if they choose to, reclaim the memory at a later date (the witches are in a trance so do not actually remember themselves what they’ve been told). Unfortunately for the Antidote, the Black Sunday storm not only tore away the last thin bit of topsoil that remained but also took with it all her stored memories. Now she fears how the townspeople will react once they learn she’s lost their deposits, in particular, the town’s sadistic, violent sheriff, a “savant at torture.”

Harp Oletsky: a Polish wheat farmer whose land is miraculously untouched by the storm and drought. His farm is the only with wheat, green fields, and somehow, blue sky, something that both mystifies and haunts him.

Asphodel (Dell) Oletsky: Harp’s 15-year-old niece whom he took in after her mother died, allegedly murdered by a serial killer known as the “Lucky Rabbit's Foot Killer” for the mementoes he leaves on the bodies of his victims. She furiously tries to bury her unresolved grief by starring on the local girls’ basketball team and apprenticing herself to the Antidote

Cleo Allfrey: a Black photographer sent out west as part of FDR’s work programs, her job to “make a case for the New Deal” (so long as she shows the “right” people to stoke public support).

We also get three other POV characters: Harp’s father, a sentient scarecrow whose awakening remains a mystery until the very end (though some readers will certainly guess its origin) and a fierce cat seeking vengeance for the drowning of her kittens. Two other “characters” are important though not actively present: a young man scapegoated for the Rabbit’s Foot killings who has already survived one failed execution attempt and awaits another and the Native Americans (particularly the Pawnee) who lived on the land before being forcibly removed.

The story moves in a semi-linear fashion. Moving forward we have The Antidote and Dell concocting false memory deposits to feed back to The Antidote’s customers, the revelations about the serial killings and the sheriff’s corrupt malevolence, the responses of the town to the ongoing environmental crisis, the mysteries surrounding the sentient scarecrow’s growing self-awareness and Harp’s fertile land, and the discovery by Cleo that a used camera she picked up takes Twilight Zone-like photographs — other times? Other universes?

In between we get a number of flashbacks. One involves The Antidote’s youth when she got pregnant at fifteen and then was sentenced to the abusive Milford Industrial Home for unwed pregnant women (mostly girls), where she gives birth, only to be told her son died that night. She refuses to believe it though, and in fact directs her POV directly to her son, hoping he will find her someday. Through The Antidote’s recollections, we also get the story of Zintkala Nuni, whom The Antidote met at the Home. Zintkala (an actual historical personage) was an infant survivor of Wounded Knee, stolen from her people by a White general, though she eventually ran away. In her time before Milford, she’d been at the Chemawa Indian boarding school, where the students were forbidden their language, dress, and culture, and also worked at a Wild West show. And finally we get a lengthy POV via deposited memory of how Harp’s father had emigrated from Poland in hopes of a better life in America.

The plot therefore is a bit scattered, more an accretion of scenes than a straightforward narrative, and sometimes the structural underpinning or balance seems to slip, leading to some pacing issues and my questioning some of the scenes included (for instance, I’m not sure I needed so much on Asphodel’s basketball team). Some plotlines, such as the unsolved murders, are somewhat abruptly dropped, while others like Harp’s father’s section feel overly long and too “exposition-y.” The same problems arise with a speech Harp gives at the end.

The characters are similarly unbalanced. The Antidote is a fantastic creation, richly characterized across her spectrum of experiences and emotions. Asphodel is also a strong character, whether she is grieving her mother’s murder, trying to find her place in the world, acting as captain for her team, or taking the first tentative steps into love with one of her teammates. Harp is a fine character, a good man who comes to a worthy epiphany, warm and gentle, and it’s a pleasure to see him start to move out of his loneliness, though he pales a bit beside the two women. Cleo comes into the story late, so it’s harder to engage with her, but she also feels like a missed opportunity, with all her cultural/ethnic edges sanded off. Beyond a few scattered references, there’s little sense of her as a Black woman during a deeply segregated and patriarchal decade. FDR’s work programs certainly gave new opportunity to both women and African Americans in the arts, but that’s not to say such opportunity were not remarked upon or always welcome. The same sense of an ahistorical nature hovers over Dell’s queer relationship in that there seems to be little sense of this being unusual or stigmatized at the time.

Thematically, The Antidote explores a number of issues, most predominantly the genocide of Native Americans and the theft of their land, both of which Russell makes clear were calculated acts, not tragic accidents or ripple effects. The “Indian School” where students were forcibly removed from their homes so their culture could be brutally ripped away is one example, as is the time when a group of tourists fire a long-lasting volley from their train at a nearby bison herd, with one yelling, “Every buffalo dead is an Indian gone!” The aforementioned memory from Harp’s father also highlights the issue, with obvious parallels drawn between Prussia’s treatment of the Poles (stealing their land, forcing them to relocate, forbidding their language) and America’s treatment of its Indigenous people.

Left at that, the echo might be a bit too ham-handed, but the point here is more subtle and speaks to another theme in the book, that the “evil this world runs on” is “Better you than me.” This is driven home to Harp’s father immediately on his arrival, when he realizes:

“The Yankees called us a dozen slurs … our inferiority was assumed… A Polack is stupid and coarse and lazy and drunk … My skin is the color an unwashed onion. In America, this placed me ahead of many. On a low rung of the ladder, but higher than the Black porter … I heard the ticking pulse of a new relief: not me, not me not me, Andrew Dawson [their Black porter] — better you than me.”

And step by step, over the years, he at first feels bad about what is being done to the Native population of Nebraska, then he stops thinking about it, then he starts to take an active hand in their displacement. As does his wife, who takes a job at the Indian boarding school, and though appalled by the horrors she sees there, remains for the paycheck.

Complicity, even if less active, raises its head in The Antidote’s memories as well, as she has her eyes opened by her friend Zintkala:

I hadn’t known — no one had ever told me — that I was a soldier in a war. We newcomers to the Great Plains were invited out here by the US government to hold ground. The Homestead Act, the Dawes Act all part of a battle plan. Over time, light-skinned children would grow old in this West with … no awareness that they were the daughter and the sones of an invading army … Our lives were entangled in the same song … I was a weapon in the war. I am one. I am in Zintka’s story, as she is in mine.”

The treatment of African Americans and women is also addressed. The Home for unwed mothers and its terrible abusive practices is one clear example. As is the generally blasé response to the murdered women (“Women were always going missing. That was a fact of life throughout the howling world”), though unsurprisingly when a few white middle-class women are killed the authorities take more notice and action. Meanwhile, when Cleo sends in pictures of Black people, her supervisor writes back: “In the future, please be judicious about who you frame up. Photographs of White farmers will have much better odds of being circulated.”

The main problem I had with the themes was not in their exploration but their resolution, or non-resolution. Obviously, historical guilt/responsibility is a complex issue, but when it boils down to “we need to do better” or the suggestion of a brainstorming session, and then even that topic gets interrupted by another weather event, it’s more than a little unsatisfying. But I don’t want to go into much detail as this all occurs toward the end.

Other elements were more fully successful. The metaphor of the purposeful erasure of memory via the prairie witches and how America for so long and so often refused (refuses) to acknowledge the truth of its past actions. The dust storm as a metaphor for long buried injustice come for those who profited from that injustice even as they refused to admit that. The actual historic photos that are inserted throughout the text, with the punched-out holes from the editors who rejected them, emblematic of the hole at the center of the told history and of the refusal to accept those considered not “the right people” to pay attention to. The magical realism elements like the magic camera showing what was and perhaps what could be or the poetic scarecrow (some of my favorite segments of the book). The way the town name works on two levels. One as the Biblical name for the land of Job, a man who had everything taken from him and then had it restored (unlike the Pawnee). But more aptly for me the connections with the Land of Oz. We’re in a plain state, we have a young girl protagonist, an unexpected group coming together to pull aside the curtain and reveal truth, a scarecrow, a feisty animal (a cat rather than Toto), and via the camera, the possibility of other times/other lands. And then there is Russell’s prose, which is so often so gorgeous.

The issue noted above nagged a bit throughout the book and unfortunately, marred the ending in particular, which felts paradoxically both overly long and rushed. But the book is still an easy recommendation despite those problems, thanks to its many strengths.

@aaknopf | #partner What to say, what to say? I have many thoughts on 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗗𝗢𝗧𝗘 by Karen Russell, but want to keep it simple. To begin, this is a story that takes place in Nebraska during the dust bowl era. It’s sandwiched between two real weather events, a massive dust storm and an historic rain storm. The events are several months apart and during that time we get to know well the four main characters who populate this story. I’m not going to tell you about each, but will say that they’re tightly connected and become more and more so as the story goes on. I liked each one well enough.⁣
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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘵𝘦 is more than historical fiction. It also has a big dose of magical realism which added a lot to the story. I absolutely adored the last third of this book. I loved the way Russell told it, I was impressed with how she tied everything together, and most of all I was moved by the message the ending of this book delivered. ⁣
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What I didn’t like was how long it took to get to that ending. The first two thirds of the book I alternated between being engaged with the story and finding it tedious. Of the two, tedious won out. I considered DNFing more than once and I did skim in parts, but something compelled me to keep going. I’m glad I stuck it out for that powerful, important ending even though the overall reading experience was not what I’d hoped. ⭐️⭐️⭐️💫

This was my first book by this author and I had no idea what I was getting myself into. This book is quite the chunker so I was a little intimidated at first but I was very quickly transported into the story.

This historical fiction novel is told in multi POV and is truly a remarkable novel. The way these characters lives are intertwined was so interesting to experience. My favorite character was The Prairie Witch.

I will definitely be reading more from this author because this book hooked me and I never expected it.

Karen Russell does what she has done previously, but in wholly new ways. Uncovering an essential nugget of a foundational American period and examining it's positives and negatives (sadly, mostly negatives). We follow a prairie witch named the Antidote, a deep pit of memory that allows people to forget whatever memories they choose. She explores this to great effect, highlighting the many benefits before swiftly bashing over the head with the myriad issues. We also follow an uncle and niece, a family recently brought together by a vicious string of murders. All of them are residents of the town of Uz, Nebraska. A town slowly dying during the dust bowl of the Great Depression. Swirl these up and add in the corrupt sheriff and we have the making of our touching, and poignant novel.

The novel captures an era of American history that I knew nothing about: the story is nestled between two major climate events - the Black Sunday Dust Storm and the Republican River Flood. The book is filled with an eclectic cast of characters: a prairie witch called the Antidote, who can act as a vault for people's memories, which they can later debit; Harp Oletsky (a Polish farmer) and his defiant but lovable niece, Asphodel, who signs up to become the Antidote’s apprentice; Cleo Allfrey, a photographer who stumbles upon a camera that can take quantum pictures - pictures that reveal the past and future; a sentient scarecrow; a vengeful cat; and a twisted sheriff. In the aftermath of the Dust Bowl, the photographs Cleo captures and the memories stored in the vaults begin to uncover dark secrets not just about present-day events, but also about how the town was founded and the hidden truths behind its establishment - secrets the community is ill-prepared to face. This mounting tension ignites the action that drives the story forward. While the book excels at painting vivid, evocative portraits of the Dust Bowl, the dust storms, and the sweeping prairies, it truly shines in weaving together its eclectic cast of characters, culminating in a breathtaking, hopeful finale.

The book explores the heavy burden of memories, showing how, in their quest for self-preservation, people may choose to bury their pasts - only to have those dark, unresolved memories inevitably resurface and haunt them. It also explores how settlers/colonizers drove Native Indians from their lands through treachery, violence, and fraud, and coerced them into assimilation by stripping them of their Indian roots. The book shows how everything is connected: the ripple effects of drought-like conditions and intense soil erosion stem from the fact that Native Americans, who knew how to care for the land, were driven out. It explores the settler mentality, showing how seemingly "small" prejudices and rumors can lead to far-reaching consequences.

There are also parallel threads about the Antidote’s grief over having her son stolen at a school for “unwed mothers”, Asphodel finding hope and community in basketball amidst the death of her mother, Cleo finding her own voice in her photography - especially as a Black woman during a time when racial segregation was still rampant, even in integrated communities - and Harp making sense of his fortune (his land being unscathed) while his neighbors reel from the crushing damages of the Dust Bowl. The novel also explores the fickleness of the justice system, mob mentality, and the hypocrisy of “religious people.” The book manages to tackle all these seemingly disparate threads with aplomb.

The book also includes an author’s note and historical context at the end, shedding light on the real people and events that inspired the narrative - an insight I found incredibly valuable. I absolutely loved this book, and it will undoubtedly be one of my favorites of the year.

Thank you to Netgalley, the author (Karen Russell), and the publisher (Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor | Knopf) for an advanced copy. Thoughts and review are completely my own.

There are so many parts of this book that seem made just for me; I’ve always been fascinated by the Dust Bowl, by the stories of Eastern European immigrants, by history’s women, by a touch of fantasy or magical realism, and, most of all, by the many different stories and lenses by which we view the American West.

The Antidote has this all in spades. I was drawn in immediately by the setting, by the mystery, by the description and by the Prairie Witch, her apprentice, and the myriad of alluring characters that populate the town of Uz, Nebraska.

If I had to assert any criticism, it would be that the true narrative of The Antidote is difficult to describe. I would recommend this novel in a heartbeat but am currently struggling to explain why. While the blurb is thorough, it’s hard to convey without the context of the book exactly why it feels so meaningful. If it comes to me, I will update. In the meantime, thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for the ARC!