The changeling A novel

Review by New York Times Review

THE HOME THAT WAS OUR COUNTRY: A Memoir of Syria, by Alia Malek. (Nation Books, $27.99.) This Syrian-Americanjournalist moved to Damascus in 2011 to renovate a family apartment. Her insightful reporting on the war's effects on the population and her account other grandmother's life create a history of Syria. WE CROSSED A BRIDGE AND IT TREMBLED: Voices From Syria, by Wendy Pearlman. (Custom House/HarperCollins, $24.99.) A politics professor collects accounts of refugees in the Middle East and Europe. She foregrounds the extraordinary heroism of ordinary Syrians, both those who are trapped in the country and those who struggle to make new lives. THE CHANGELING, by Victor LaValle. (Spiegel & Grau, $28.) In this modern-day fairy tale, set in New York City, a young father encounters "the old kind" of evil. The anxieties of modern parenting and the rigors of survival in urban America all have their place in this strange and wonderful new novel. HUNGER: A Memoir of (My) Body, by Roxane Gay. (Harper/HarperCollins, $25.99.) Theessayist and novelisttells how she was gangraped at 12 and subsequently gained weight to protect herself. Her memoir is an intellectually rigorous and deeply moving exploration of the ways trauma, stories and desire construct our reality. HENRY DAVID THOREAU: A Life, by Laura Dassow Walls. (University of Chicago, $35.) This new life of Thoreau, in time for his 200th birthday, paints a moving portrait of a brilliant, complex man. One of the book's pleasures is the way it transports us back to America in the first half of the 19 th century. THE ISLAMIC ENLIGHTENMENT. The Struggle Between Faith and Reason: 1798 to Modern Times, by Christopher de Bellaigue. (Liveright, $35.) This fascinating study of Middle Eastern scholars and political figures who grappled with reform and modernization in the 19 th and 20 th centuries reveals the multiplicity of Muslim identities and loyalties. THERE YOUR HEART LIES, by MaryGordon. (Pantheon, $26.95.) The heroine of this exceptional new novel is a 92-year-old widow who defied her wealthy Catholic family to become a nurse during the Spanish Civil War. In the present, the woman forms abond with her granddaughter, who has come to live with her. THE GREAT NADAR: The Man Behind the Camera, by Adam Begley. (Tim Duggan, $28.) This biography of Félix Tournachon, known as Nadar, a 19th-century French photographer who was one of the art's greatest portraitists, is the first to appear in English. QUIET UNTIL THE THAW, by Alexandra Fuller. (Penguin Press, $25.) This ardent and original novel dives deep into Lakota culture and history. Many of the events it describes are rooted in history, and it culminates in the 1973 siege at Wounded Knee. The full reviews of these and other recent books are on the web: nytimes.com/books

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [August 30, 2019]

---

Review by Booklist Review

Award-winning LaValle's latest is the story of Apollo Kagwa, beginning with his parents meeting in New York in the late '60s. Apollo learns to cope with life's challenges early in life, being the son of a single mother and growing up struggling financially. But his path leads him to his soulmate, Emma, and it appears that their journey together will be complete when their son, Brian, is born. It's at this point when Apollo's life shows him how dark the world can be. Facing betrayal after betrayal, Apollo's life crumbles around him. It's in his darkest moment that Apollo begins to confront the elements of modern life intertwined with legends and myths that have combined to ruin his life. The Changeling is an example of how good urban horror fantasy can be, a layered story that joins themes important to modern readers with the mystery and wonder of the darker side of fantasy. LaValle's story is reminiscent of Clive Barker's Imajica (1991) and the way China Miéville marries the fantastical with the contemporary.--Kuczwara, Dawn Copyright 2017 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

---

Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

LaValle (The Ballad of Black Tom) displays his unique brand of trippy fabulism in his gripping latest, a modern-day fairy tale about a devoted father's confrontation with evil. "The wildness had only begun," says the narrator early on in the novel, a statement borne out by the eerie, fantastic events to come. The son of a Ugandan woman who raised him on her own, Apollo Kagwa scrapes together a living rummaging through estate sales for rare books. The novel takes its time warming up, somewhat leisurely describing Apollo courting, marrying, and having a baby with Emma Valentine, then becoming a so-called "New Dad": a conscientious, diaper-changing, "emotionally available" modern man. Then the wildness begins with a staggering scene in which Apollo's family is torn apart. In his quest to put himself and his family back together, Apollo, steered by a computer-savvy client interested in one of his rare books, journeys into New York City's hidden enchanted places. There he encounters old magic, monsters, and wicked fathers. LaValle makes occasionally strained efforts to weave contemporary concerns-helicopter parenting, online oversharing, and Internet trolls-into this elemental fabric. Nonetheless, the novel works best when immersed in the violent, unpredictable realm of dark fairy tales, which, as one character tells Apollo, "are not for children." (June) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

---

Review by Kirkus Book Review

A tragedy thrusts a mourning father into peculiar, otherworldly corners of New York City.When Apollo and Emma have their baby, Brian, it feels like both reward and challenge for the new dad. Apollo, the son of a single mother, had been scraping by as a bookseller who hunts estate and garage sales for rare first editions, so even the unusual circumstance of Brian's birth (in a stalled subway train) seems like a blessing, as does the way Apollo stumbles across a first edition of To Kill a Mockingbird (inscribed by Harper Lee to Truman Capote, no less) shortly after. But after some young-parent squabbles and inexplicable images on their smartphones foreshadow trouble, the story turns nightmarish: Apollo finds himself tied up and beaten by Emma, then forced to listen to the sounds of Brian's murder. LaValle has a knack for blending social realism with genre tropes (The Ballad of Black Tom, 2012, etc.), and this blend of horror story and fatherhood fable is surprising and admirably controlled. Though the plot is labyrinthine, it ultimately connects that first edition ("It's just a story about a good father, right?"), Emma's motivations, and the fate of their son, with enough room to contemplate everyday racism, the perils of personal technology, and the bookselling business as well. Built on brief, punchy chapters, the novel frames Apollo's travels as a New York adventure tale, taking him from the basements of the Bronx to a small island in the East River that's become a haven for misfit families to a seemingly sleepy neighborhood in Queens that's the center of the story's malevolence. But though the narrative takes Apollo to "magical places, where the rules of the world are different," he's fully absorbed the notion that fairy tales are manifestations of our deepest real-world anxieties. In that regard, LaValle has successfully delivered a tale of wonder and thoughtful exploration of what it means to be a parent. A smart and knotty merger of horror, fantasy, and realism. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

---

This fairy tale begins in 1968 during a garbage strike. In February New York City's sanitation workers refused to pick up trash for eight straight days. One hundred thousand tons of garbage filled the sidewalks, spilled into the streets. Rats ran laps alongside morning joggers. Rubbish fires boiled the air. The five boroughs had been given up for dead. Still, there was some cracked magic in the air because that was when Lillian and Brian met. Each had journeyed from far--flung lands to find one another in Queens. Neither could've guessed the wildness that falling in love would unleash. Lillian Kagwa emigrated from Uganda while Brian West arrived from the only slightly less foreign territory of Syracuse. This daughter of East Africa and son of upstate New York met at a cut--rate modeling agency on Northern Boulevard. Neither was a client. The week of the garbage strike Lillian got hired as a secretary at the agency, greeting guests at the front desk. A pleasant sight for folks strolling sidewalks saddled with week--old waste. Brian, a parole officer, had been paying occasional visits to the agency's founder, Pavel Aresenyev, one of his parolees, who'd spent four years in prison for fraud. Brian didn't believe Pavel had gone legit. But that week Brian became focused less on Mr. Aresenyev and more on the new secretary who greeted him when he arrived. Meeting her felt like finding a rose growing in a landfill. Brian dropped by the modeling agency four times that week. Despite his immediate attraction, Brian had a habit of mispronouncing Lillian Kagwa's last name, and Lillian kept mistaking Brian for other white men. Hardly kismet. Still Brian West---short, stocky, and persistent---simply wouldn't quit. And on the days when he didn't show up, Lillian, to her own surprise, found she missed him. Lillian Kagwa had come from Jinja, the second--largest city in Uganda, where she'd lived through the country's emancipation from Britain and its eventual homegrown rule by Milton Obote. Obote used the army and his secret police, the General Service Unit, to rule the land. They spread wickedness wherever they went. In 1967 Lillian and three cousins were traveling to the capital, Kampala, when they were pulled over by three men claiming to be agents of the GSU. The four cousins sat quietly as the agents inspected their identification, then demanded the only male cousin---Arthur---come out and open the trunk. Arthur didn't want to leave Lillian and his sisters and hesitated. In that moment, one agent leaned in and casually shot Arthur in the stomach. Lillian and her cousins were temporarily deafened by the sound, blinded by the muzzle flash, but Lillian still sensed the agent who'd fired the gun pawing inside the car to pull out the keys. Lillian, at the wheel, shifted the car into drive and shot off before her senses had returned to her, weaving across the two--lane road like a drunk. The agents fired at the car but couldn't pursue it; their own vehicle had run out of gas. They'd set up the checkpoint to steal a suitable vehicle and would have to wait for another. Lillian reached Kampala in half an hour, speeding the whole way. Arthur died long before that. An incident like this hardly counted as newsworthy. Uganda, as a whole, was going buckwild, and Lillian Kagwa wanted out. One year later Lillian secured a visa to the United States. In 1968 Lillian came to New York. She was twenty--five and knew no one, but because of Uganda's British rule, she already spoke the king's English, and this made her transition easier. One of the reason's Mr. Aresenyev hired her at the modeling agency was because her command of English was so much better than his. She made the business sound serious, legitimate, though Brian West's suspicions were right: the whole thing was a scam. Lillian didn't know this when she accepted the work. All she knew was the job paid twice the state minimum wage, three bucks an hour. Back in Uganda, she hadn't been able to find work of any kind, so she cherished the gig. And what was a garbage strike compared with state--sanctioned murder? The agency, Glamour Time, was run out of a windowless second--floor office near Queensboro Plaza, remote from any hub of high fashion but centrally located for soaking the aspiring models of working--class Queens. Potential clients could join the agency as long as they had headshots. Luckily, Mr. Aresenyev had a small studio right there at the agency and could snap the shots himself for a fee. For certain young women, he offered to take the shots after hours, just the two of them. The streets of New York were overrun with uncollected garbage, but Glamour Time carried its own stink. The only honest aspect of the business was the East African woman answering phones out front. Mr. Aresenyev's business might've run just fine for quite a while, soaking hopeful young women for years, except his damn parole officer had made the front office into his second home. How were you going to run a decent fraud when a cop was stopping by every other morning? Brian West was bad for business. And since he was smitten with Lillian that meant Lillian Kagwa was bad for business. So Mr. Aresenyev fired her. Not the smartest plan, but Mr. Aresenyev wasn't bright. Now Brian pursued Pavel relentlessly, an Inspector Javert from Onondaga County. Charging for the headshots wasn't illegal, but running a photo studio without a permit was enough to count as a violation of parole. Pavel Aresenyev went back to jail. Brian West got a commendation. Lillian Kagwa needed a new job. She worked as an administrative secretary at a law firm in midtown Manhattan. The new job paid less. She moved into a smaller apartment. She cut off all communications with Brian. He'd cost her a good job, and the commute to midtown added a half hour of travel time each way, so no, she did not want to get dinner and a movie with Brian, thank you. Anyway, she was young, and it was New York City, where a lot more fun was to be had than back in Jinja. They met in 1968 but didn't go on their first real date until eight years later. Brian West gave Lillian room, backed off by a borough; he rented a place on Staten Island, but he couldn't stop thinking of her. Why? What was it about Lillian? He couldn't quite explain. It was as if she'd cast a spell. Brian West had been the only child of two wildly unromantic drunks. At twelve Brian had a job selling candy at the Elmwood Theatre. He made the mistake of proudly displaying his earnings to his father, Frank. He expected a pat on the shoulder, words of congratulations; instead the boy endured a strong--arm robbery right in his own living room. His dad bought a case of Genesee beer with the money. Mom and Dad finished it before bedtime. A household like that will either break you or toughen you up. Maybe both. What was waiting on a woman to forgive you compared with having your father beat you up and steal your first paycheck? Late in 1976 it finally happened. Brian West and Lillian Kagwa went on a date. They'd both been twenty--five when they first met during the week of the garbage strike, but now they were thirty--three. Lillian had met a lot of men during those intervening years, and Brian benefited from the comparison. He worked hard, didn't drink, saved his money, and paid his debts. Funny how much she valued such qualities now. The only hiccup came at dinner, when Brian talked about how much he wanted children, the chance to be a husband and a father. As soon as he'd seen her at Glamour Time he'd sensed she would be a wonderful mother. When he finished talking she reminded him, gently, that this was their first date. Maybe they could wait to make wedding plans until after the movie at least? To Brian's credit, he didn't act wounded or angry---he laughed. He didn't know it, but it was at this moment that Lillian truly fell for him. He took her to see Rocky. It wouldn't have been Lillian's choice, but halfway through the movie, she started to enjoy herself. She even saw herself on the screen. A fierce dreamer. That's what this movie was about. And wasn't that her? She liked to think so. Maybe that was why Brian brought her to see this picture. To show her something about himself that he could never put into words. He'd told her the story of being robbed by his father, and she'd told him about Arthur getting gutshot in the car, and now here they both were in a darkened Times Square theater. Together. A pair of survivors. It seemed so unlikely---all the life that had led them here---as improbable as myth. In the dark she held his hand. Though they wouldn't have sex for another three hours, it would be accurate to say their first child---their only child---was conceived right then. A thought, an idea, a shared dream; parenthood is a story two people start telling together. By April 1977 Lillian was showing. Brian found them a two--bedroom apartment in Jackson Heights. Their son came in September. Brian thought it would be weird to name a half--black kid Rocky, so instead they named him Apollo. Brian liked to carry the newborn in the crook of one arm, cooing to him, "You are the god, Apollo. Good night, my little sun." And they lived happily ever after. At least for a few years. By Apollo's fourth birthday Brian West was gone. Brian hadn't run off with another woman or skipped town to move back to Syracuse. The man might as well have been erased from existence. He couldn't be found because he'd left no trail, neither breadcrumbs nor credit card receipts. Gone. Disappeared. Vanished. When Apollo was born, Brian and Lillian thought they'd reached the end of the story, but they'd been wrong. The wildness had only begun. Excerpted from The Changeling: A Novel by Victor LaValle All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

---