by Meghan Mazzaferro
Release date: June 1st, 2021
Content warning: racial tensions, racial violence, instances of violence and gore
Veronica Henry’s novel Bacchanal follows Liza, a Black woman in the 1930s American South with a secret power to communicate with animals. When a mysterious carnival, Bacchanal, asks her to join their group, Liza sees a way out of her backwater town by making her own money, gaining independence, and hopefully finding the family who abandoned her. But there is a darkness lurking within the carnival, one that traces back to Nigeria and Liza’s ancestors, and if she has any hope of escaping, she needs to learn to control her powers and quickly.
This book has a lot of potential. Liza is a strong, passionate woman who is easy to root for, and her powers are unique. I haven’t read many books where the main character can speak to animals, and the way in which Liza communicates with them is definitely really interesting. Many of the side characters are also compelling. Though darkness surrounds the carnival, all of its workers are interesting and developed, and Henry did an excellent job of showing how the carnival benefits the people who work there. While the reader knows about the darkness at Bacchanal’s heart, it is impossible to fully root against the villain, because those we come to care about while reading will also suffer if the carnival falls.
The book is heavily influenced by African culture and traditions, with a major theme being Liza’s exploration of her ancestry; learning about herself and her African roots is the only way for her to embrace her powers and face the threat within Bacchanal. I have little knowledge of African cultures, but I never got lost in the story. That being said, there are many things that would definitely have held more significance if I had a deeper knowledge of African histories and cultures. I have seen other reviewers of this book say that Henry sometimes asks the reader to meet her halfway. I agree with that statement, and I think it makes the novel stronger. Henry explores both 1930s American culture and African cultures and traditions without spoon-feeding the audience exposition, trusting that the story can carry itself, and that the reader will put in the work to understand. I commend that, and I think it makes the book a very immersive read.
Unfortunately, there are a few areas where I found the story falls a little flat. The narrative is actually quite slow. While the story is immersive, it became clear to me pretty quickly that there wasn’t as much conflict in the narrative as one might expect. There were many instances where it seemed like there would be challenges to Liza or the carnival that unfortunately fizzled into nothing, and it made the book feel a little lacking by the time I reached the conclusion. Likewise, while many of the side characters were fleshed out and interesting in their own rights, their interactions with each other tended to be underexplored. I was often told how characters felt about each other rather than being shown, which led to some of the character relationships feeling slightly forced and underdeveloped.
That being said, the book was still an enjoyable read. While I found the central plot lacking a certain depth to really make it stand out, Henry does an excellent job of making you question what you think will happen next. For that, as well as for the book’s representation of the balance between modernity and heritage in the 1930s American South, I would say I overall enjoyed this book.
Thank you, Wunderkind Publicity, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.