The Black Girl Survives in This One
Desiree S. Evans & Saraciea J. Fennell, editors
Hardcover / Ebook
ISBN: 9781250871657
Flatiron Books, April, 2024, 368 pgs

In 2021 Saraciea J. Fennell edited Wild Tongues Can’t Be Tamed for Macmillan imprint Flatiron, bringing together fifteen nonfiction pieces to “interrogate the different myths and stereotypes about the Latinx diaspora.” I was very interested, but too busy to get around to reading it. Nonetheless, it made me curious about Fennell as an editor; she and I have communicated occasionally via email in her capacity as Senior Publicity Manager at Tor Publishing Group (and my capacity as reviewer for Lightspeed, co-Editor-in-Chief at Fantasy Magazine, and Senior Editor at Locus Magazine). Now she has teamed up with writer Desiree S. Evans to publish a fiction anthology, The Black Girl Survives in This One: “A YA anthology of horror stories centering Black girls who battle monsters, both human and supernatural, and who survive to the end.” To say that I was curious when I heard about this book would be an understatement¹!

The Black Girl Survives in This One offers fifteen original stories from a range of authors. You have your bestselling and award winning folks that many genre readers will (or, at least, should) recognize, like Justina Ireland; you have your Big Names who write at least some works which could be called genre, but who may not always be labelled “genre authors,” like The Other Black Girl author Zakiya Dalila Harris; you have your seriously accomplished authors known for their YA works like L.L. McKinney; and more, including a few newer authors, plus fiction by the editors. Horror icon Tananarive Due penned the forward, and while some of you may skip forwards in general, this should be a draw in and of itself for readers who know how fantastic Due is. I’ll talk about a sampling of great stories and leave the rest for your discovery. But you could flip open this book and start anywhere and you will likely be captivated.

I started my read, as I sometimes do when reading anthologies, not with the order of the stories, but with an author I was eager to read: Eden Royce’s “Local Color.” If Eden Royce has an original in something, I will probably feel drawn to read that book. Royce is a gifted storyteller, and often infuses important subtext into her fascinating and cool narratives. “Local Color” is something of a coming-of-age story of a girl, Veronne, whose parents went missing. She lives with her grandfather and, in classic Royce fashion, is quickly drawn as an engaging character who is not like other teens. She is independent-minded and driven to find out what happened to her parents, even if it means taking a few extraordinary risks and getting into trouble. The story takes advantage of some proven horror techniques and readers who feel a fun zing of fear at a protagonist venturing into the dark will enjoy the piece on that level. It feels brief because the writing compels you to chew through the pages. It also feels as much like the beginning of Veronne’s grand adventures as it does a complete piece. This could be the start of a series of interlocking stories or something? Just a suggestion . . .

Interesting characters in compelling situations continue with Vincent Tirado’s “The Black Strings.” Mal is a kid in a punk band but doesn’t feel the typical way about music that you usually see in fiction—you know, “music is my life” or “this is my passion”; Mal understands music from a different angle, one which combines math with social observations about the way people respond to music. Mal is also queer, and the way Tirado sketches Mal’s interactions and feelings brings me back to the longings of high school, but in the best way possible. Tirado’s touches with character alone are enough to keep reading, but then they mix in the fact that Mal can somewhat tell when someone is about to die, and the fact that the band just arrived at a hotel where, if Mal’s ability holds true, a whole lot of people are going to die . . . I could feel the pressure of the situation as I was reading, and this is perhaps one of the highest compliments I can give a writer.

In “The Screamers” Daka Hermon begins with quick but very effective work establishing character. Middle child Amaani just moved to Tennessee with her family. She is immediately likeable and relatable, a wonderful mix of strong and vulnerable. Some writers might see how Hermon pulls this off, but in my opinion, it’s done well, balanced with precision, and I think the average reader will simply be absorbed, eager to see Amaani’s journey. Moreover, when the creepiness gets going, Hermon does a lovely job of keeping the story tied closely to character, and to things that are important. The narrative folds grief in with personal transformation, and I really appreciated a lot about the family dynamics, as well as the way Hermon handles the larger thematic elements. Because the character is great, the tension is also great, which drives the read (and the reader’s heartbeat) into a sprint. I really enjoyed this story, and I’ll be eager to see more by Hermon.

The power of “The Skittering Thing,” at least initially, is the way Monica Brashears captures the life of a teenage girl. It’s really entertaining to read, and I feel as if I could just hang out with these slightly gossipy girls and enjoy the drama, the highs and lows, and the little details. Not to mention the contradictions, like the fact that our protagonist Sunny is terrified of the biblical apocalypse even though she doesn’t believe in it. These kinds of touches give Brashear’s characters a sense of depth and realism. Brashears, meanwhile, is also lining the narrative with a little tension and potential hints of horror to come. Sunny and her friend Charlotte meet the new girl, who is the daughter of the new pastor, and their interactions are really well written, with delights delivered by taking things in somewhat unexpected but still believable directions. When the horror does come, you’re so absorbed in the story that it’s quite gripping. Details in the narrative are also just a bit unusual, enough to feel fresh while still allowing the overall story to be gripping.

Janine in “Ghost Light” by Erin E. Adams is a striking and cool character. We meet her as she’s prepping for her first show as production stage manager, and she’s a great mix of nervous and competent. She’s the first sophomore to take on the role solo, which is a wonderful way to set up a character: there are so many things we instinctively know about someone who might accomplish this, especially when they are both nervous and competent. But Adams is a great writer, so she builds on an already effective foundation by adding intriguing details and perspectives and a lick or two of wordsmithing, all while keeping the read firmly in the main character’s perspective, creating a beautifully immersive and character driven experience. Even the choice of character role adds value and nuance to the piece, as we just don’t see a lot of stories centered on a theater production stage manager. When Adams brings on the tension, it’s delicious, it’s layered, a braiding of problems that sings through the story. And then: cue the speculative!

I really enjoyed this book. Even though the Black girl survives in the end, this doesn’t mean that every piece is hopeful or has a happy ending. Sometimes it’s warm and fuzzy, sometimes it’s bloody and grim. There’s a great range of storytelling styles and narrative directions here, and while you know at least something about the ending of each story (because the anthology title is a spoiler), the journeys are well worth taking.

¹. Somewhat related topically, though not directly related to this anthology, I did a “short take” review of nonfiction book The Black Guy Dies First for Locus Online, just below our review of film Jung_E. We interviewed one of the writers over at Fantasy Magazine. Folks who are wondering about the title of The Black Girl Survives in This One may want to take a look at that book for context.