A Dive into Darkness: My Thoughts on Tananarive Due’s The Reformatory
When I first picked up The Reformatory by Tananarive Due, I had no idea I was about to embark on an experience that would grip my heart and mind in ways I’ve seldom encountered. Set in 1950s Florida, the story explores harrowing themes of injustice and racial discrimination through the eyes of twelve-year-old Robert Stephens. It came highly recommended, and I was drawn to its blend of historical fiction, horror, and the supernatural—genres that have always intrigued me. But what I found was far beyond mere entertainment; it was a powerful commentary on society that left a mark long after the last page.
At its core, the story follows Robert, a boy whose only crime is a small schoolyard skirmish that leads him into the clutches of the Gracetown Boys Reformatory. This isn’t just any reformatory; it’s a place shrouded in rumors of brutality and despair, so much so that it has become a shadowy entity in itself. Due’s writing style masterfully immerses us in Robert’s harrowing first day, and the intricate detailing of his environment pulls us right alongside him. The pacing is relentless, with the first 31% of the book unfolding in real-time over a mere 24 hours—it’s a nail-biting introduction that prepares readers for the horrors to come.
The dual perspectives of Robert and his older sister, Gloria, provide a compelling lens through which to view their arduous journey. While Robert suffers within the walls of the reformatory, Gloria works tirelessly to free him, often placing her own life at risk in the process. Their resilience and empathy are palpable, making them unforgettable characters. I found myself rooting for their reunion and justice against the backdrop of a deeply flawed system.
One of the most haunting aspects of The Reformatory is the presence of the Haints—restless spirits bound to the reformatory grounds. Robert’s ability to communicate with these souls adds a chilling layer to the narrative. Their tragic stories resonate deeply, reminding readers of the real-life horrors faced by countless children trapped in similar institutions throughout history. It’s a poignant juxtaposition of horror and hope, and it made me ache for the lives lost and forgotten.
While Due does not shy away from depicting the terrifying realities of child abuse, racism, and police brutality, she does so with a sensitivity that respects the gravity of these issues. The trigger warnings are essential, but I urge readers not to shy away from this book. The pain within its pages serves a purpose—it provokes thought and evokes empathy.
As I closed the book, I realized this was more than just a narrative. It was a reflection of society, both past and present, filled with lessons we must carry forward. I’ve already booked my spot for the re-read when it comes out in 2025 because The Reformatory is not just a book; it’s a reckoning.
If you’re drawn to stories that challenge the heart while offering supernatural intrigue, or if you seek a profound exploration of resilience amidst despair, I wholeheartedly recommend The Reformatory. Tananarive Due has created a masterpiece that I can only describe as essential reading.