Set on an imaginary Caribbean island, this almost-detective story spins into a vibrant protest against femicide and domestic abuse. Like a call to arms, caught up in the women’s passionate anger and fragile hope, I was ready to join them! Somehow, the men avoid becoming the villains, instead portrayed with empathy, and the book resonates with the many systemic issues at play: colonialism and slavery, violence and poverty, race and gender.
They left the car and walked back, towards the tree-shrine of the dead young pan woman. The tree, as they approached, was majestic, a sacred place of open mourning and grief. A power symbol. Sharleen felt mixed up: cursed with heterosexuality. She’d been married twice. Increasingly, she was uneasy about her tendency to marry. She liked to fuck men. She wanted a man in her bed, regular-like. How could she, how did any straight woman square man-sex love with an inherent, everyday misogyny? With the actual Mayor of the city saying women should take the blame for men’s lasciviousness, even for their own murder.
