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The Removed
Steeped in Cherokee myths and history, a novel about a fractured family reckoning with the tragic death of their son long ago—from National Book Award finalist Brandon Hobson
In the fifteen years since their teenage son, Ray-Ray, was killed in a police shooting, the Echota family has been suspended in private grief. The mother, Maria, increasingly struggles to manage the onset of Alzheimer’s in her husband, Ernest. Their adult daughter, Sonja, leads a life of solitude, punctuated only by spells of dizzying romantic obsession. And their son, Edgar, fled home long ago, turning to drugs to mute his feelings of alienation.
With the family’s annual bonfire approaching—an occasion marking both the Cherokee National Holiday and Ray-Ray’s death, and a rare moment in which they openly talk about his memory—Maria attempts to call the family together from their physical and emotional distances once more. But as the bonfire draws near, each of them feels a strange blurring of the boundary between normal life and the spirit world. Maria and Ernest take in a foster child who seems to almost miraculously keep Ernest’s mental fog at bay. Sonja becomes dangerously fixated on a man named Vin, despite—or perhaps because of—his ties to tragedy in her lifetime and lifetimes before. And in the wake of a suicide attempt, Edgar finds himself in the mysterious Darkening Land: a place between the living and the dead, where old atrocities echo.
Drawing deeply on Cherokee folklore, The Removed seamlessly blends the real and spiritual to excavate the deep reverberations of trauma—a meditation on family, grief, home, and the power of stories on both a personal and ancestral level.
In the fifteen years since their teenage son, Ray-Ray, was killed in a police shooting, the Echota family has been suspended in private grief. The mother, Maria, increasingly struggles to manage the onset of Alzheimer’s in her husband, Ernest. Their adult daughter, Sonja, leads a life of solitude, punctuated only by spells of dizzying romantic obsession. And their son, Edgar, fled home long ago, turning to drugs to mute his feelings of alienation.
With the family’s annual bonfire approaching—an occasion marking both the Cherokee National Holiday and Ray-Ray’s death, and a rare moment in which they openly talk about his memory—Maria attempts to call the family together from their physical and emotional distances once more. But as the bonfire draws near, each of them feels a strange blurring of the boundary between normal life and the spirit world. Maria and Ernest take in a foster child who seems to almost miraculously keep Ernest’s mental fog at bay. Sonja becomes dangerously fixated on a man named Vin, despite—or perhaps because of—his ties to tragedy in her lifetime and lifetimes before. And in the wake of a suicide attempt, Edgar finds himself in the mysterious Darkening Land: a place between the living and the dead, where old atrocities echo.
Drawing deeply on Cherokee folklore, The Removed seamlessly blends the real and spiritual to excavate the deep reverberations of trauma—a meditation on family, grief, home, and the power of stories on both a personal and ancestral level.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published February 2, 2021
672 people are currently reading
36341 people want to read
About the author
Brandon Hobson
14 books471 followersDr. Brandon Hobson is an American writer. His novel, Where the Dead Sit Talking, was a finalist for the National Book Award. He is an assistant professor of creative writing at New Mexico State University and also teaches at the Institute of American Indian Arts. He is an enrolled citizen of the Cherokee Nation Tribe of Oklahoma.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,974 reviews
March 24, 2021
Fascinating. I like how Cherokee myths and stories, some real and some invented, work in parallel with the stories of the Echota family. Though the ending is somewhat ambiguous, it still is a satisfying, intelligent, and moving. Lots to think about. All the characters are interesting but I was particularly invested in Sonja, Wyatt, Tsala, and Maria. Anyway, read this book.
October 2, 2024
This book is incredible! Words can’t adequately describe how much I enjoyed it! I plan to read it more than once, and I’m eager to buy copies for my friends. While it may be early to say, I’m confident this book has already secured a spot in my top five fiction reads of 2021! I highly recommend it to readers who long for the extraordinary richness of literature.
It’s a beautiful waltz between Cherokee myths, history, magical realism, and thought-provoking ideas. The story of a broken family is interwoven with traditional Cherokee beliefs and captivating tales. The chapters, told from different family members’ perspectives, are engaging and gripping. Just as you get drawn into one character’s viewpoint, you start wondering about the others, as each chapter piques your interest. Some even end on cliffhangers, making it impossible to stop turning the pages!
Here’s a glimpse of the plot:
The Eccota family is going through hell, each member battling their inner demons as the 15th anniversary of their beloved son Jay Jay’s death approaches. They usually mark the day with a bonfire, as it coincides with the Cherokee National Holiday, and it serves as a reason to gather the fractured family to grieve together.
Each family member has developed their own flawed coping mechanisms:
• Maria, the deeply depressed mother, pours her feelings into a journal, though words fail to capture her profound sorrow.
• Ernest, the father, struggles with early-stage amnesia, unwilling to confront the painful memories of his past.
• Sonja, their daughter, becomes more withdrawn, obsessively stalking a musician and his son, who is on the verge of autism. But why is she so fixated on them?
• Edgar, the youngest son, spirals into addiction, rejecting any help. Despite promising his family he would change after their serious intervention, he continues to destroy himself, letting his addiction consume him.
The family is falling apart until one day, Maria and Ernest temporarily foster a boy who eerily resembles their late son at the same age he was when he was killed by a racist police officer who escaped justice. The boy seems to embody their deceased son’s spirit, sharing the same love for old songs, collecting vinyl records, and mimicking comedians—just as their son once did. Miraculously, Ernest’s memory starts to return as he bonds with the boy, giving him the feeling that he has reunited with his long-lost son.
Meanwhile, Sonja finally begins dating Vin, the man she has been stalking, but quickly finds herself hating every moment she spends with him. Why does she stay? Is she punishing herself with destructive relationship patterns, or is there something else going on?
And after being dumped by his girlfriend, who can no longer cope with his addiction, Edgar finds himself in a strange and eerie place called Darkening Land—a space teetering between life and death—where he embarks on a surreal survival journey.
The conclusion of this story is epic, satisfying, and magical!
Overall, I’m thrilled to have had the opportunity to read an advance copy, and I can’t wait for the release date to purchase the hardcover! This book isn’t just good—it’s marvelous and incredible!
Special thanks to NetGalley and Ecco for providing this review copy in exchange for my honest opinion.
It’s a beautiful waltz between Cherokee myths, history, magical realism, and thought-provoking ideas. The story of a broken family is interwoven with traditional Cherokee beliefs and captivating tales. The chapters, told from different family members’ perspectives, are engaging and gripping. Just as you get drawn into one character’s viewpoint, you start wondering about the others, as each chapter piques your interest. Some even end on cliffhangers, making it impossible to stop turning the pages!
Here’s a glimpse of the plot:
The Eccota family is going through hell, each member battling their inner demons as the 15th anniversary of their beloved son Jay Jay’s death approaches. They usually mark the day with a bonfire, as it coincides with the Cherokee National Holiday, and it serves as a reason to gather the fractured family to grieve together.
Each family member has developed their own flawed coping mechanisms:
• Maria, the deeply depressed mother, pours her feelings into a journal, though words fail to capture her profound sorrow.
• Ernest, the father, struggles with early-stage amnesia, unwilling to confront the painful memories of his past.
• Sonja, their daughter, becomes more withdrawn, obsessively stalking a musician and his son, who is on the verge of autism. But why is she so fixated on them?
• Edgar, the youngest son, spirals into addiction, rejecting any help. Despite promising his family he would change after their serious intervention, he continues to destroy himself, letting his addiction consume him.
The family is falling apart until one day, Maria and Ernest temporarily foster a boy who eerily resembles their late son at the same age he was when he was killed by a racist police officer who escaped justice. The boy seems to embody their deceased son’s spirit, sharing the same love for old songs, collecting vinyl records, and mimicking comedians—just as their son once did. Miraculously, Ernest’s memory starts to return as he bonds with the boy, giving him the feeling that he has reunited with his long-lost son.
Meanwhile, Sonja finally begins dating Vin, the man she has been stalking, but quickly finds herself hating every moment she spends with him. Why does she stay? Is she punishing herself with destructive relationship patterns, or is there something else going on?
And after being dumped by his girlfriend, who can no longer cope with his addiction, Edgar finds himself in a strange and eerie place called Darkening Land—a space teetering between life and death—where he embarks on a surreal survival journey.
The conclusion of this story is epic, satisfying, and magical!
Overall, I’m thrilled to have had the opportunity to read an advance copy, and I can’t wait for the release date to purchase the hardcover! This book isn’t just good—it’s marvelous and incredible!
Special thanks to NetGalley and Ecco for providing this review copy in exchange for my honest opinion.
December 5, 2023
Check out my 1 minute spoiler-free video review here: https://youtu.be/uyW9J5ru3QY
This is the story of the Echota family who lost their teenage son, Ray-Ray, who died 15 years ago at the hands of the police. The father, Ernest, is suffering from the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s while daughter Sonja has been in an obsessive relationship and surviving son, Edgar, is struggling with a severe drug addiction. In the midst of this, the Echota family begins to foster a young boy as they prepare for their family’s annual bonfire where they share memories of Ray-Ray.
This book was deeply moving and beautiful. It stirs up the emotions and has just the right mix of supernatural, history, nature, and myth, and never at any point comes off as preachy.
The author is a splendid storyteller, and the book has even deeper meanings (like what would it mean to grow up in the shadow of a deceased sibling).
Even the ending I loved, because it was not spelled out for the reader, and I carried this book with me. This was magic in print, and I already can’t wait to read it again!
2024 Reading Schedule
Jan Middlemarch
Feb The Grapes of Wrath
Mar Oliver Twist
Apr Madame Bovary
May A Clockwork Orange
Jun Possession
Jul The Folk of the Faraway Tree Collection
Aug Crime and Punishment
Sep Heart of Darkness
Oct Moby-Dick
Nov Far From the Madding Crowd
Dec A Tale of Two Cities
Connect With Me!
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This is the story of the Echota family who lost their teenage son, Ray-Ray, who died 15 years ago at the hands of the police. The father, Ernest, is suffering from the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s while daughter Sonja has been in an obsessive relationship and surviving son, Edgar, is struggling with a severe drug addiction. In the midst of this, the Echota family begins to foster a young boy as they prepare for their family’s annual bonfire where they share memories of Ray-Ray.
This book was deeply moving and beautiful. It stirs up the emotions and has just the right mix of supernatural, history, nature, and myth, and never at any point comes off as preachy.
The author is a splendid storyteller, and the book has even deeper meanings (like what would it mean to grow up in the shadow of a deceased sibling).
Even the ending I loved, because it was not spelled out for the reader, and I carried this book with me. This was magic in print, and I already can’t wait to read it again!
2024 Reading Schedule
Jan Middlemarch
Feb The Grapes of Wrath
Mar Oliver Twist
Apr Madame Bovary
May A Clockwork Orange
Jun Possession
Jul The Folk of the Faraway Tree Collection
Aug Crime and Punishment
Sep Heart of Darkness
Oct Moby-Dick
Nov Far From the Madding Crowd
Dec A Tale of Two Cities
Connect With Me!
Blog Twitter BookTube Facebook Insta
January 7, 2021
2.5 Stars
An intriguing premise, centering around a long-suffering Cherokee family, is undone by bland and repetitive prose, muddled mythology, underdeveloped themes, and plot points that are, frankly, too far Removed from plausibility to take seriously. From the outset, Hobson's themes are undercooked: It all begins with the actions of a racist, trigger-happy cop, which is certainly a timely and provocative issue; but ultimately it's a mere attention-grabber that has no real bearing on much of the plot. The Echota family's loss of beloved son Ray-Ray could have been caused by literally anything else without changing the story, save for two quick last-act confrontations that disappoint both the characters and the reader. Sonja's storyline, in particular, had the potential to be complex and deep, culminating in a conflict with meaningful dialogue and complicated emotions; instead, it starts as a weird tale of romantic/sexual obsession before revealing itself as something else entirely, with a wholly unsatisfying and one-note payoff. Likewise, Edgar's chapters start as simply rambling (I've never seen the word "fowl" used so many times in my life) and get increasingly more ridiculous and unsubtle. Maria's chapters are far and away the most successful, but they also never live up their promise, with the mystery of Wyatt never really explained, and the future of Ernest's condition unresolved. Other readers seem to be captivated by the myths and tragedies herein, but for me The Removed was a frustrating read, always on the verge of something special but never achieving it, feeling more like an unfinished draft than a Book of the Month.
An intriguing premise, centering around a long-suffering Cherokee family, is undone by bland and repetitive prose, muddled mythology, underdeveloped themes, and plot points that are, frankly, too far Removed from plausibility to take seriously. From the outset, Hobson's themes are undercooked: It all begins with the actions of a racist, trigger-happy cop, which is certainly a timely and provocative issue; but ultimately it's a mere attention-grabber that has no real bearing on much of the plot. The Echota family's loss of beloved son Ray-Ray could have been caused by literally anything else without changing the story, save for two quick last-act confrontations that disappoint both the characters and the reader. Sonja's storyline, in particular, had the potential to be complex and deep, culminating in a conflict with meaningful dialogue and complicated emotions; instead, it starts as a weird tale of romantic/sexual obsession before revealing itself as something else entirely, with a wholly unsatisfying and one-note payoff. Likewise, Edgar's chapters start as simply rambling (I've never seen the word "fowl" used so many times in my life) and get increasingly more ridiculous and unsubtle. Maria's chapters are far and away the most successful, but they also never live up their promise, with the mystery of Wyatt never really explained, and the future of Ernest's condition unresolved. Other readers seem to be captivated by the myths and tragedies herein, but for me The Removed was a frustrating read, always on the verge of something special but never achieving it, feeling more like an unfinished draft than a Book of the Month.
February 12, 2021
Update.... changing my rating to three stars. I’ve been thinking about this book still --a lot!
There are still some things that bothered me —
my own little pet peeves—-
But if I’m still thinking about it 'this' much - [which I am]—-there’s more positives than I credited.
3 stars for this update >> who knows maybe next week will go up to 4 stars --lol (ok, lets not get 'too' carried away) >..yet!
RETURNING TO REVIEW:
The first part was yesterday...
Second part follows...
Audiobook... read by a cast of 5 different voices (The best part of this novel for me was the talented Audiobook voices, themselves)....
As for the ‘entire’ story....
there were problems- pet peeves that I didn’t enjoy or appreciate.
I’ll review a more comprehensive and explainable reason for my low review in a day or two.
I’m out on the trail hiking and want to move on —
listen to another audiobook.
Plus... I want to enjoy my weekend and don’t feel like writing... lol
Forgive me!
There were positives & negatives in this novel —-NOTE... I DO THINK MANY PEOPLE WILL LOVE IT....
But if you look even a smidge below the surface....it’s filled with disjointed storytelling....
also lacking a clear purpose.
In the end the negatives overshadowed the positives:
Dramatized Manipulation!
The last two chapters were not only predictable but downright boring.
MY REVIEW: (the second part)
Thought I’d complete sharing about why I gave this book 2 stars.
I value indigenous fiction. “Song of Batoche”, by Canadian author Maia Caron, being one of my favorites.
But the author was telling too many stories, in “The Removed”.
....an injustice murder > Ray-Ray was killed by the police, who shot the wrong man.
....Every year the Echota Native American Family gathers for a bonfire to celebrate Ray-Ray’s life....a tribute to happy memories.
Not only was the murder ( about racism), not develop into any thoughtful examination—a contemporary family saga jumps fifteen years later.
The family members were:
......Mother, *Maria*. ( grieving mother for all her children).... I definitely felt sorry for this woman.
......Younger son, *Edgar* -ran away from his Oklahoma family -to Mexico - in a mysterious town.....”The Darkening Land”....(a place where Cherokee spirits went to rest after they died).
Edgar met a girlfriend named Desirae...whom he called Ray, (after his brothers name).
Ray left Edgar. She had had it with his meth drug use. Couldn’t blame the girl. Nice to see ‘one’ character in this book who wasn’t into living a self destructive life.
Edgar felt guilty for whom he had become, ( but did nothing about his guilt),
He was a drug addict who refused to call home (too self indulgent with his own problems to give a rats ass that his mother was worried sick - depressed daily not knowing where her son was)...
Edgar never really did ‘atone’ — his redemption story was silly. The Lavender Quartz token - lacked his own substantial penance.
It was another overly dramatized half-baked story.
.....Daughter, *Sonia* - she was love-detached - sex attached!
......Husband, *Ernest* — The ups and downs of Alzheimer’s disease.
..... and New member of the family: Foster child, *Wyatt*. (in 9th grade)....
He was a bright well behaved kid - likable - he told stories about an underworld called The Darkening Land. ( good...but we kept getting story on top of story)..
Wyatt’s father was in jail. His mother was in the wind. Wyatt’s presence in the family was a memory ( ghostlike, spirit god), a perpetual reminder of Ray-Ray. The similarities between the two boys were specially mystifying to Maria.
There were many embryonic stories ....not just too many themes - actually too many stories....that were moderately developed.
“Removed” trivialized serious issues:
Sonia for example - who expressed having anxiety, (goes looking for Xanax in her mother’s medicine cabinet), has no interest in love, but a lot of interest in sex.....
.....She was extremely forward in trying to a get man, a single father to his little boy, to have public sex with her. He refused.
Later .... much later in the book - Sonia is physically abused by this man. The story went nowhere.
Sonia didn’t want to report him to the police because the little boy wouldn’t have had no father: ( sure, let’s let another unjust go unpunished)....
Another undercooked (toss-in-another) tale was of little neighborhood girl, whose dog went missing. As if we didn’t have enough stories competing for our attention. The story went nowhere; upsetting ...
but....well, just another missing loved one.
The constant underplaying of tragic grievances became a hornets’ nest: situations that required resolutions - often never happened — I found it very irritating!
Instead ....it was always just one more story after another > I disrespected this disjointed type of choppy writing.....
The tenuousness of these independent interfacing stories: past and present - contemporary — were so impermanent—it weaken the book’s objective.....
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the storytelling (at least most reverent to Native Americans)...
was the mythological sentiment perspectives from Cherokee ancestor - ( oral history interwoven into the novel).
*Tsala* - a prophet - [speaker of the dead].
Tsala envisioned the Indian Removal Act...The Cherokee removal...”The Trail of Tears”....the forced relocations of approximately 100,000 Native Americans between 1830 and 1850 by the United States government.
But.....even though this novel pulls on readers heartstrings....there was too much genuine meaning lacking a great purpose.
Removed was just a little too removed from itself.
It gourmandized itself whole....chewed, swallowed, and chomped itself down.
There are still some things that bothered me —
my own little pet peeves—-
But if I’m still thinking about it 'this' much - [which I am]—-there’s more positives than I credited.
3 stars for this update >> who knows maybe next week will go up to 4 stars --lol (ok, lets not get 'too' carried away) >..yet!
RETURNING TO REVIEW:
The first part was yesterday...
Second part follows...
Audiobook... read by a cast of 5 different voices (The best part of this novel for me was the talented Audiobook voices, themselves)....
As for the ‘entire’ story....
there were problems- pet peeves that I didn’t enjoy or appreciate.
I’ll review a more comprehensive and explainable reason for my low review in a day or two.
I’m out on the trail hiking and want to move on —
listen to another audiobook.
Plus... I want to enjoy my weekend and don’t feel like writing... lol
Forgive me!
There were positives & negatives in this novel —-NOTE... I DO THINK MANY PEOPLE WILL LOVE IT....
But if you look even a smidge below the surface....it’s filled with disjointed storytelling....
also lacking a clear purpose.
In the end the negatives overshadowed the positives:
Dramatized Manipulation!
The last two chapters were not only predictable but downright boring.
MY REVIEW: (the second part)
Thought I’d complete sharing about why I gave this book 2 stars.
I value indigenous fiction. “Song of Batoche”, by Canadian author Maia Caron, being one of my favorites.
But the author was telling too many stories, in “The Removed”.
....an injustice murder > Ray-Ray was killed by the police, who shot the wrong man.
....Every year the Echota Native American Family gathers for a bonfire to celebrate Ray-Ray’s life....a tribute to happy memories.
Not only was the murder ( about racism), not develop into any thoughtful examination—a contemporary family saga jumps fifteen years later.
The family members were:
......Mother, *Maria*. ( grieving mother for all her children).... I definitely felt sorry for this woman.
......Younger son, *Edgar* -ran away from his Oklahoma family -to Mexico - in a mysterious town.....”The Darkening Land”....(a place where Cherokee spirits went to rest after they died).
Edgar met a girlfriend named Desirae...whom he called Ray, (after his brothers name).
Ray left Edgar. She had had it with his meth drug use. Couldn’t blame the girl. Nice to see ‘one’ character in this book who wasn’t into living a self destructive life.
Edgar felt guilty for whom he had become, ( but did nothing about his guilt),
He was a drug addict who refused to call home (too self indulgent with his own problems to give a rats ass that his mother was worried sick - depressed daily not knowing where her son was)...
Edgar never really did ‘atone’ — his redemption story was silly. The Lavender Quartz token - lacked his own substantial penance.
It was another overly dramatized half-baked story.
.....Daughter, *Sonia* - she was love-detached - sex attached!
......Husband, *Ernest* — The ups and downs of Alzheimer’s disease.
..... and New member of the family: Foster child, *Wyatt*. (in 9th grade)....
He was a bright well behaved kid - likable - he told stories about an underworld called The Darkening Land. ( good...but we kept getting story on top of story)..
Wyatt’s father was in jail. His mother was in the wind. Wyatt’s presence in the family was a memory ( ghostlike, spirit god), a perpetual reminder of Ray-Ray. The similarities between the two boys were specially mystifying to Maria.
There were many embryonic stories ....not just too many themes - actually too many stories....that were moderately developed.
“Removed” trivialized serious issues:
Sonia for example - who expressed having anxiety, (goes looking for Xanax in her mother’s medicine cabinet), has no interest in love, but a lot of interest in sex.....
.....She was extremely forward in trying to a get man, a single father to his little boy, to have public sex with her. He refused.
Later .... much later in the book - Sonia is physically abused by this man. The story went nowhere.
Sonia didn’t want to report him to the police because the little boy wouldn’t have had no father: ( sure, let’s let another unjust go unpunished)....
Another undercooked (toss-in-another) tale was of little neighborhood girl, whose dog went missing. As if we didn’t have enough stories competing for our attention. The story went nowhere; upsetting ...
but....well, just another missing loved one.
The constant underplaying of tragic grievances became a hornets’ nest: situations that required resolutions - often never happened — I found it very irritating!
Instead ....it was always just one more story after another > I disrespected this disjointed type of choppy writing.....
The tenuousness of these independent interfacing stories: past and present - contemporary — were so impermanent—it weaken the book’s objective.....
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the storytelling (at least most reverent to Native Americans)...
was the mythological sentiment perspectives from Cherokee ancestor - ( oral history interwoven into the novel).
*Tsala* - a prophet - [speaker of the dead].
Tsala envisioned the Indian Removal Act...The Cherokee removal...”The Trail of Tears”....the forced relocations of approximately 100,000 Native Americans between 1830 and 1850 by the United States government.
But.....even though this novel pulls on readers heartstrings....there was too much genuine meaning lacking a great purpose.
Removed was just a little too removed from itself.
It gourmandized itself whole....chewed, swallowed, and chomped itself down.
April 7, 2021
"How do you lose a child to gun violence and expect to return to a normal way of life?"
That is the question that runs through this novel, and, as you can imagine, there's no good answer to it. The Removed follows the Echota family, fifteen years after the devastating death of their son, Ray-Ray, who is shot by a white police officer for no good reason. Justice is never done, and they are forced to carry on in their new reality. Maria, his mother, probably finds the best way to cope, but she is understandably depressed. Sonja, his sister, is sexually reckless. Edgar, his brother, is addicted to meth. The father, Ernest, is only part there, suffering from advancing Alzheimer's.
While the book was compelling enough to keep me reading, and written in such a way that you can advance quickly, I found it didn't quite work for me on several levels.
The first is the structure - each chapter shifts point of view between Maria, Edgar, Sonja, and their Cherokee ancestor Tsala. This is a tricky style, and I think it only works if the writer can create a distinct voice for each character, which I don't think he did here.
Next, the character arcs. Maria is by far the most authentic of all the characters, and she is the grounding force of the novel. The stories of Edgar and Sonja, unfortunately, were less successful. I spent much of my time scratching my head about Sonja's motivation. When it is finally revealed, I was relieved that there WAS something behind her strange behaviour, but it didn't feel resolved or make a lot of sense. Edgar's section was even more confounding to me - I wondered if the whole thing was a meth trip, until some really wonderful reading friends I know explained that his section was an enactment of a Cherokee myth called "The Darkening Land". I really appreciated knowing that, and it changed the way I saw Edgar's story.
Which brings me to my next point. The book is rich in Cherokee culture and history. It has, for its foundation, the atrocious historical event of "The Trail of Tears". This event continues to affect the Cherokee people generations later, and is inherent to this narrative. It was eye opening for me to inform and remind myself about this time in history.
However, because of my background and the fact that I am ignorant when it comes to Cherokee mythology, I am certain I missed out on much of this book's richness, the symbolism, the meanings, the intentions. One astute reader I was fortunate to discuss with likened this reading experience to one of translated fiction, in which the writer's original audience is from a different culture, and thus those reading in English are at a bit of a loss.
The difference here is that the writer's audience is North American, and so I can't help but wish Hobson had made the Cherokee meanings and intentions a little more accessible for his readers. I'm lucky I discussed the book with some wonderful people who were willing to listen to author interviews and do extra research. If you read the book on its own, though, as I did, you may likely feel at arm's length, and plagued with half-understandings.
I should mention that I'm willing to do extra research when I'm confused about an aspect of a book I'm reading. For example, I looked up the Thirty Years' War when reading Tyll somewhat recently. But the problem arises when a reader doesn't even know what they don't know. I didn't even consider that Edgar's disorienting sections might be a Cherokee myth, so was just confused, ready to write my review saying that the book didn't make much sense.
The writing itself is plain. "Serviceable" comes to mind, for me. Sometimes it felt quite uneven, with one section repeating the word fowl dozens of times. (That was foul.)
The feeling I had at the end was that it felt unfinished, in a way. Something that could have been much more powerful and inviting but which instead was diluted by my own confusion and quite a few story lines/situations.
All that said (and I know I've said a lot), there is a genuineness to this story that is unmistakeable. The fractures that take place after a child is violently taken - he captures that. The question of forgiveness or healing after such loss - he looks that one right in the eye. And the every day, continued relevance and connection with native ancestors and traditions is truly beautiful.
A haunting and imperfect exploration.
That is the question that runs through this novel, and, as you can imagine, there's no good answer to it. The Removed follows the Echota family, fifteen years after the devastating death of their son, Ray-Ray, who is shot by a white police officer for no good reason. Justice is never done, and they are forced to carry on in their new reality. Maria, his mother, probably finds the best way to cope, but she is understandably depressed. Sonja, his sister, is sexually reckless. Edgar, his brother, is addicted to meth. The father, Ernest, is only part there, suffering from advancing Alzheimer's.
While the book was compelling enough to keep me reading, and written in such a way that you can advance quickly, I found it didn't quite work for me on several levels.
The first is the structure - each chapter shifts point of view between Maria, Edgar, Sonja, and their Cherokee ancestor Tsala. This is a tricky style, and I think it only works if the writer can create a distinct voice for each character, which I don't think he did here.
Next, the character arcs. Maria is by far the most authentic of all the characters, and she is the grounding force of the novel. The stories of Edgar and Sonja, unfortunately, were less successful. I spent much of my time scratching my head about Sonja's motivation. When it is finally revealed, I was relieved that there WAS something behind her strange behaviour, but it didn't feel resolved or make a lot of sense. Edgar's section was even more confounding to me - I wondered if the whole thing was a meth trip, until some really wonderful reading friends I know explained that his section was an enactment of a Cherokee myth called "The Darkening Land". I really appreciated knowing that, and it changed the way I saw Edgar's story.
Which brings me to my next point. The book is rich in Cherokee culture and history. It has, for its foundation, the atrocious historical event of "The Trail of Tears". This event continues to affect the Cherokee people generations later, and is inherent to this narrative. It was eye opening for me to inform and remind myself about this time in history.
However, because of my background and the fact that I am ignorant when it comes to Cherokee mythology, I am certain I missed out on much of this book's richness, the symbolism, the meanings, the intentions. One astute reader I was fortunate to discuss with likened this reading experience to one of translated fiction, in which the writer's original audience is from a different culture, and thus those reading in English are at a bit of a loss.
The difference here is that the writer's audience is North American, and so I can't help but wish Hobson had made the Cherokee meanings and intentions a little more accessible for his readers. I'm lucky I discussed the book with some wonderful people who were willing to listen to author interviews and do extra research. If you read the book on its own, though, as I did, you may likely feel at arm's length, and plagued with half-understandings.
I should mention that I'm willing to do extra research when I'm confused about an aspect of a book I'm reading. For example, I looked up the Thirty Years' War when reading Tyll somewhat recently. But the problem arises when a reader doesn't even know what they don't know. I didn't even consider that Edgar's disorienting sections might be a Cherokee myth, so was just confused, ready to write my review saying that the book didn't make much sense.
The writing itself is plain. "Serviceable" comes to mind, for me. Sometimes it felt quite uneven, with one section repeating the word fowl dozens of times. (That was foul.)
The feeling I had at the end was that it felt unfinished, in a way. Something that could have been much more powerful and inviting but which instead was diluted by my own confusion and quite a few story lines/situations.
All that said (and I know I've said a lot), there is a genuineness to this story that is unmistakeable. The fractures that take place after a child is violently taken - he captures that. The question of forgiveness or healing after such loss - he looks that one right in the eye. And the every day, continued relevance and connection with native ancestors and traditions is truly beautiful.
A haunting and imperfect exploration.
September 23, 2020
”I’m building a monster,” Edgar told him excitedly. He held up his Lego creature and roared.
”Little brother,” Ray-Ray said, “there are enough monsters in this world.”
Set in Oklahoma, members of the Echota family share the story of Ray-Ray, and of the day he was shot, and killed, by a policeman. There is an annual commemoration of the life of that young man, a life that was taken too soon, brutally, and seemingly without reason, and this year marks the fifteenth year after his death. A foster child, a boy who bears a remarkable resemblance to Ray-Ray at that age, will join their family for a time, which adds to the aura of this sanctified moment, and to the poignancy of this story.
Filled with grief, their lives continue, but are forever marked by this loss, and as the years pass other issues plague them. Alzheimer’s, a sense of isolation and estrangement from the desired way of life, and living, alcoholism, drugs, being treated unfairly, as though they were “less-than” others, and taken advantage of by those pretending to befriend them. Despite this, there are moments of joy, even if temporarily, along with several heartbreakingly stunning Cherokee myths involving visions, spirits and how fragile the line between this world and the spirit world. I especially loved reading these, often imparting a moment of beauty in a world filled with so much calamity and heartbreak.
There is an essence of the sacredness of life throughout this story, appreciating this gift of life, and of working toward resolution and absolution, recognizing the weight of the past and holding the good memories in our hearts. The past, possessing a lingering, sacred aura as simply one part of this journey we call life.
Pub Date: 16 Feb 2021
Many thanks for the ARC provided by Ecco
August 26, 2021
*3.5
This was difficult for me to rate, and actually I had to read quite a few reviews before settling on this. I came to realize that the aspects I didn’t like about this book were actually the characters themselves & not the storytelling like I’d initially assumed.
That being said, I think it’s still important to push through if the writing style didn’t initially suit you. I almost gave up at 20%, but truly I believe it’s because I forget that not all stories need goals or reason like western culture believes. Some stories can have unanswered questions because it’s more about the journey than the destination. Stories can be unwaveringly spiritual without blatantly saying it. Stories can follow different routes than what we typically see.
I didn’t understand Sonja’s lack of emotion, but also volatile emotions at times. I didn’t understand whether Wyatt knew what Maria and Ernest believed about him. I didn’t understand why Maria put so much pressure on this belief, or whether we were supposed to believe she was a good person. I *did* understand Edgars drug abuse, but it was still hard to read. And then I didn’t understand how *he* didn’t immediately get where he’s gone when he was in the “Darkening Land”. I didn’t understand whether to root for these characters because they’d been through so much, or to be overly aware of their flaws.
Now, onto what I did like- the myths, the beliefs. I finally had to let my own beliefs of what I thought made sense go, these characters were flawed, but their unwavering beliefs in the world were inspiring. I loved the spirituality each of them possessed, the signs they saw in the universe and were able to accept as true, and the mix of old legends in the storytelling. Though disjointed, if taken at face value the myths are beautiful & their belief in them more so. It was easier for me once I understood this- because then Maria’s pressure on her belief of Wyatt was not harmful, it was spiritual and he understood. Sonja’s disconnection to her inability to have a relationship was back row to her connection to the world. Edgars Alzheimer’s maybe was “cured” with Wyatt’s blessings. Wyatt perhaps was more than he seemed.
I still will leave my rating as a 3.5 though, because even though I grasp that there may be so much that I could not possibly have understood- I think too many things were started with no real goal/ending. So many questions were left unanswered & this story was maybe too big for its britches.
This was difficult for me to rate, and actually I had to read quite a few reviews before settling on this. I came to realize that the aspects I didn’t like about this book were actually the characters themselves & not the storytelling like I’d initially assumed.
That being said, I think it’s still important to push through if the writing style didn’t initially suit you. I almost gave up at 20%, but truly I believe it’s because I forget that not all stories need goals or reason like western culture believes. Some stories can have unanswered questions because it’s more about the journey than the destination. Stories can be unwaveringly spiritual without blatantly saying it. Stories can follow different routes than what we typically see.
I didn’t understand Sonja’s lack of emotion, but also volatile emotions at times. I didn’t understand whether Wyatt knew what Maria and Ernest believed about him. I didn’t understand why Maria put so much pressure on this belief, or whether we were supposed to believe she was a good person. I *did* understand Edgars drug abuse, but it was still hard to read. And then I didn’t understand how *he* didn’t immediately get where he’s gone when he was in the “Darkening Land”. I didn’t understand whether to root for these characters because they’d been through so much, or to be overly aware of their flaws.
Now, onto what I did like- the myths, the beliefs. I finally had to let my own beliefs of what I thought made sense go, these characters were flawed, but their unwavering beliefs in the world were inspiring. I loved the spirituality each of them possessed, the signs they saw in the universe and were able to accept as true, and the mix of old legends in the storytelling. Though disjointed, if taken at face value the myths are beautiful & their belief in them more so. It was easier for me once I understood this- because then Maria’s pressure on her belief of Wyatt was not harmful, it was spiritual and he understood. Sonja’s disconnection to her inability to have a relationship was back row to her connection to the world. Edgars Alzheimer’s maybe was “cured” with Wyatt’s blessings. Wyatt perhaps was more than he seemed.
I still will leave my rating as a 3.5 though, because even though I grasp that there may be so much that I could not possibly have understood- I think too many things were started with no real goal/ending. So many questions were left unanswered & this story was maybe too big for its britches.
February 25, 2021
Suddenly a giant eagle, bigger than the boy, landed in front of him. The eagle spread its wings, then turned into a man with long silver hair. The man approached the boy and told him not to fear what we saw. "Their suffering is for you," he told him. "Now go home."
"How do I go home?" the boy asked.
"I’ll take you," the man said. Then he turned back into an eagle and he told the boy to climb on his back. Carefully, the boy climbed on, and the flew westward into the pale sky.
Mel 🖤🐶🐺🐾
January 16, 2021
This story is about a Cherokee family in Oklahoma, who fifteen yrs prior, lost their oldest son Ray-Ray when he was killed unjustly by a police officer.
The parents and two remaining adult children are planning to come together for a yearly bonfire where they share memories of him.
We see the grief of each family member, and how their lives have been since Ray-Ray’s death.
Quite a hauntingly beautiful book!
Thank you to Netgalley and Ecco for this ARC!
The parents and two remaining adult children are planning to come together for a yearly bonfire where they share memories of him.
We see the grief of each family member, and how their lives have been since Ray-Ray’s death.
Quite a hauntingly beautiful book!
Thank you to Netgalley and Ecco for this ARC!
February 13, 2021
Sometimes loss and grief feels like a hollow pit nestled in the deepest part of yourself. What is it then, that allows us to go on, to heal, after so much pain in our lives and for the ancestors before us? What is to be done with this inherited colonial trauma.
The Removed by Cherokee author Brandon Hobson, for myself, was an exploration of grief and ancestral bonds. A beautiful mix of Cherokee language, storytelling & history told through interwoven perspectives alongside symbolism and imagery. When you lose your beloved at the hands of colonialism (whether this was in 1830-1850 at the hands of the US govt or by a police officer in the last few decades,) and there is no justice to be found in either century, how do you heal?
(Family.
Ancestors.
Ceremony.
Sacred stories.)
The Echota family are grieving their beloved Ray Ray 15 years after he was murdered by a police officer. They are dealing not only with grief but with Alzheimer’s and drug addiction because as we know, these both affect not just one person, but everyone who loves them.
The Removed is a beautifully written account of what takes place after trauma & what beauty lies in bonds & traditions that colonialism can never kill. Chi’miigwech @eccobooks for the gifted copy. Such a rewarding & fulfilling read.
CW for addictions, abuse, death, racism, police brutality, Trail of Tears, foster care
PS: it is troubling to me that for what feels like the millionth time I am having to say that Indigenous world views ARE NOT FANTASY / MAGICAL REALISM / SCIENCE FICTION. Do not read Indigenous literature and label it as such unless that genre is actually sci-if/fantasy/magical realism. A book featuring ancestors & ceremony is not fantasy. Just because Indigenous beliefs are different than colonial beliefs, this does not make them make believe.
The Removed by Cherokee author Brandon Hobson, for myself, was an exploration of grief and ancestral bonds. A beautiful mix of Cherokee language, storytelling & history told through interwoven perspectives alongside symbolism and imagery. When you lose your beloved at the hands of colonialism (whether this was in 1830-1850 at the hands of the US govt or by a police officer in the last few decades,) and there is no justice to be found in either century, how do you heal?
(Family.
Ancestors.
Ceremony.
Sacred stories.)
The Echota family are grieving their beloved Ray Ray 15 years after he was murdered by a police officer. They are dealing not only with grief but with Alzheimer’s and drug addiction because as we know, these both affect not just one person, but everyone who loves them.
The Removed is a beautifully written account of what takes place after trauma & what beauty lies in bonds & traditions that colonialism can never kill. Chi’miigwech @eccobooks for the gifted copy. Such a rewarding & fulfilling read.
CW for addictions, abuse, death, racism, police brutality, Trail of Tears, foster care
PS: it is troubling to me that for what feels like the millionth time I am having to say that Indigenous world views ARE NOT FANTASY / MAGICAL REALISM / SCIENCE FICTION. Do not read Indigenous literature and label it as such unless that genre is actually sci-if/fantasy/magical realism. A book featuring ancestors & ceremony is not fantasy. Just because Indigenous beliefs are different than colonial beliefs, this does not make them make believe.
Read
January 24, 2021This is a DNF at 35% for me. I’m a firm believer that at this point if I’m not into it, it’s not going to happen. No
Issues with the writing and in fact I love Native American Lit and folklore, but the story didn’t engage me. Just a “not for me.”
Issues with the writing and in fact I love Native American Lit and folklore, but the story didn’t engage me. Just a “not for me.”
January 27, 2022
This is an exceptionally well written, wonderful novel.
I’m a little disconcerted by all the lukewarm reviews and I’m usually on the other side of this argument. Frequently I am the grumpy curmudgeon who likes but doesn’t love a very popular book. Here I am looking for accolades that I feel Brandon Hobson deserves and cannot find enough.
Fifteen years earlier, the Echota family lost their charismatic teenage son to a police officer’s errant bullet. Though cleared of wrongdoing, the actions of the law enforcement community haunted the family ever after.
“After Ray Ray’s murder, we were all pretty f***ed up”
Hobson has populated this creative narrative with the colorful family members of the family: Ernest the father whose health is declining, Maria the mother who has struggled with depression and anger ever since, Sonya the older sister (perhaps my favorite character for her unique way of dealing with loss) and Edgar, the younger brother whose battles with addiction has been a source of renewed grief for the Echotas. Each chapter is told from the first-person perspective of one of the family and Hobson demonstrates his great skill at characterization and development by his astute way of describing their unique personalities and world view.
Even more interesting is the inclusion in the shifting points of view of Tsala, a Cherokee spirit who describes the trail of tears lost, the removed from their homes of the ancestors and how these travails continue on with the contemporary people of his tribe, his beloved.
Hobson uses symbolism, metaphor, magical realism, repetition and parallels and descriptions of Cherokee myth and legend, all deftly interspersed throughout the real world narratives to bring life and depth to this story of grief, family, perseverance and empathy.
“Empathy is the beginning of healing” of forgiveness. Hobson’s ubiquitous theme of empathy is perhaps his most significant accomplishment in this novel. The Echotas empathy for those who have wronged them and the lack of empathy from a hostile world, but the need for this compassion in order to attain inner peace.
“I heard the laughter of soldiers. Laughter! They were careless toward our people. How badly they treated them. I watched it day after day. I heard their laughter over the cries of pain and wondered how their souls could be so corrupt and without empathy. Where was their sense of humanity?” Tsala’s narrative was particularly convincing when considered in light of his unique perspective.
Another frequent thematic device Hobson uses is an unreliable identity as several characters either call themselves a different name or are confused for someone else. Perhaps he is signifying that the Cherokee people have lost their identity or are victims of inaccurate labels, some that they adopt themselves.
A fine work of fiction, highly recommended.
I’m a little disconcerted by all the lukewarm reviews and I’m usually on the other side of this argument. Frequently I am the grumpy curmudgeon who likes but doesn’t love a very popular book. Here I am looking for accolades that I feel Brandon Hobson deserves and cannot find enough.
Fifteen years earlier, the Echota family lost their charismatic teenage son to a police officer’s errant bullet. Though cleared of wrongdoing, the actions of the law enforcement community haunted the family ever after.
“After Ray Ray’s murder, we were all pretty f***ed up”
Hobson has populated this creative narrative with the colorful family members of the family: Ernest the father whose health is declining, Maria the mother who has struggled with depression and anger ever since, Sonya the older sister (perhaps my favorite character for her unique way of dealing with loss) and Edgar, the younger brother whose battles with addiction has been a source of renewed grief for the Echotas. Each chapter is told from the first-person perspective of one of the family and Hobson demonstrates his great skill at characterization and development by his astute way of describing their unique personalities and world view.
Even more interesting is the inclusion in the shifting points of view of Tsala, a Cherokee spirit who describes the trail of tears lost, the removed from their homes of the ancestors and how these travails continue on with the contemporary people of his tribe, his beloved.
Hobson uses symbolism, metaphor, magical realism, repetition and parallels and descriptions of Cherokee myth and legend, all deftly interspersed throughout the real world narratives to bring life and depth to this story of grief, family, perseverance and empathy.
“Empathy is the beginning of healing” of forgiveness. Hobson’s ubiquitous theme of empathy is perhaps his most significant accomplishment in this novel. The Echotas empathy for those who have wronged them and the lack of empathy from a hostile world, but the need for this compassion in order to attain inner peace.
“I heard the laughter of soldiers. Laughter! They were careless toward our people. How badly they treated them. I watched it day after day. I heard their laughter over the cries of pain and wondered how their souls could be so corrupt and without empathy. Where was their sense of humanity?” Tsala’s narrative was particularly convincing when considered in light of his unique perspective.
Another frequent thematic device Hobson uses is an unreliable identity as several characters either call themselves a different name or are confused for someone else. Perhaps he is signifying that the Cherokee people have lost their identity or are victims of inaccurate labels, some that they adopt themselves.
A fine work of fiction, highly recommended.
February 3, 2021
This is a very well written book. The story was sort of haunting. Ancestral trauma interacting with personal/familial trauma. Very creative in the way the spirits of ancestors interact in our world. Magical realism woven in as well. It lacked plot which I always like in my novels, though there was more action toward the end.
January 18, 2021
This book lingered with me. I don't think I always understood it but the parts I did were haunting and beautiful.
March 10, 2021
"Remember your ancestors," he told me. "Remember they were removed from their homes, and then they had no homes. They walked the Trail, walked and crawled and died. They suffered."
Truth be told: The Removed tossed me about like a leaf in the wind. It crushed me under foot and it frustrated me with its disjointed storyline, irregular insertions of realism and fantasy, characters so disconnected from one another, and references to individuals who stood on the peripheral encased in foggy details.
We'll meet the Echota family living in the small town of Quah, Oklahoma. This Cherokee family is comprised of individuals marked deeply by the loss of Ray-Ray, their son, killed in a police shooting some years back. Every year they ban together to build a bonfire in his memory and to bond with the Spirits. But every year the dynamics of this wounded family keep changing due to external factors as well as factors of their own making.
Ernest, the father, is sinking beneath the surface of Alzheimer's and his wife, Maria, is his caregiver after retiring as a social worker. Sonja, their daughter, lives within walking distance, but she is caught up in the downward spiral of constant sexual encounters with younger men and no plans for the future. Edgar, the youngest, sits on the edge of a suicide attempt. These are wayward souls gravitating toward the dark side of human existence. Brandon Hobson keeps the ashes stirring throughout this story.
And then Maria accepts the responsibility of taking in a young foster child, Wyatt. Wyatt breathes life into this storyline. He is a beacon of light in all this heaviness. But for how long?
Like so many of you that have experienced The Removed before me, I was ready to close this book. It is multi-layered and confusing with so many Cherokee folktales and myths that Hobson felt compelled to inject in certain spots. And on the flip side, there were so many passages that were gutwrenching and held truth. "Then I began to silently weep. I lay down beside you and wept, for you, for your mother, and for our people who would be beaten. I wept for the people in wagons and the ones who would walk west. I wept for all who would soon be suffering and dying."
Do we wear the scars of those who came before us at the core of our souls? Is it part of our DNA that is transferred into future generations? Can we ever put the burden down and finally torch it into ashes carried back into the Darkened Land? We can never forget, nor should we, of the cruelties pressed down upon a people. But it is an oppressive fate to live forever in the shadows. Breathing into the wind lifts us beyond our circumstances. And reaching out to grasp the hand of another can make all the difference.
Truth be told: The Removed tossed me about like a leaf in the wind. It crushed me under foot and it frustrated me with its disjointed storyline, irregular insertions of realism and fantasy, characters so disconnected from one another, and references to individuals who stood on the peripheral encased in foggy details.
We'll meet the Echota family living in the small town of Quah, Oklahoma. This Cherokee family is comprised of individuals marked deeply by the loss of Ray-Ray, their son, killed in a police shooting some years back. Every year they ban together to build a bonfire in his memory and to bond with the Spirits. But every year the dynamics of this wounded family keep changing due to external factors as well as factors of their own making.
Ernest, the father, is sinking beneath the surface of Alzheimer's and his wife, Maria, is his caregiver after retiring as a social worker. Sonja, their daughter, lives within walking distance, but she is caught up in the downward spiral of constant sexual encounters with younger men and no plans for the future. Edgar, the youngest, sits on the edge of a suicide attempt. These are wayward souls gravitating toward the dark side of human existence. Brandon Hobson keeps the ashes stirring throughout this story.
And then Maria accepts the responsibility of taking in a young foster child, Wyatt. Wyatt breathes life into this storyline. He is a beacon of light in all this heaviness. But for how long?
Like so many of you that have experienced The Removed before me, I was ready to close this book. It is multi-layered and confusing with so many Cherokee folktales and myths that Hobson felt compelled to inject in certain spots. And on the flip side, there were so many passages that were gutwrenching and held truth. "Then I began to silently weep. I lay down beside you and wept, for you, for your mother, and for our people who would be beaten. I wept for the people in wagons and the ones who would walk west. I wept for all who would soon be suffering and dying."
Do we wear the scars of those who came before us at the core of our souls? Is it part of our DNA that is transferred into future generations? Can we ever put the burden down and finally torch it into ashes carried back into the Darkened Land? We can never forget, nor should we, of the cruelties pressed down upon a people. But it is an oppressive fate to live forever in the shadows. Breathing into the wind lifts us beyond our circumstances. And reaching out to grasp the hand of another can make all the difference.
January 7, 2021
The Removed could be a unique insight to grieving family members after the unwarranted shooting death of a fifteen year old Cherokee boy named Ray-Ray, but instead it just devolves into an incohesive mess. While I don't read a tremendous amount of indigenous fiction, what I have read makes me think part of the writing style is part of culture, but it's also just doesn't work for me. The story prologues the day of Ray-Ray's death and then transitions to (mostly) fifteen years in the future, told by his mother, his sister, his brother, and Cherokee spirit Tsalas. His mother Maria is planning their annual remembrance of Ray-Ray while dealing with husband Ernest, who is dealing with Alzheimer's, and Wyatt, a foster boy that seems to be channeling Ray-Ray that's temporarily been placed in her home in Oklahoma. Meanwhile Sonja's down the street pursuing cougarish endeavors by chasing after a younger man who has a young son that reminds her of Ray-Ray. At the end of this storyline her purposes for doing so seem to be a complete 180 from earlier in her story, giving the reader whiplash. Edgar is drugged out in Albuquerque, and after his girlfriend breaks up with him, somehow ends up by way of train in the Darkening Lands living with a former classmate that tells him he's necessary to creating a Jim Thorpe augmented reality game. Last but not least are the pieces of the story told by Tsala, a spirit reliving the tragedy his people were faced with when they were forcibly moved to Oklahoma on the Trail of Tears. I wish that I could say that this all culminated in an ending that miraculously pulled these storylines together, but it really didn't in my opinion.
April 7, 2021
DNF at 18%.
I initially saw this book on a recommendations list of Indigenous fiction, and thought that it was right up my alley. So I requested it from the library, and then waited about a month for it... I started it last night after needing a change from my other reading, and now I'm DNFing it.
I am not liking the characters, or the writing, or the dialogue, or the audiobook readers who voice the characters. And considering that I was already dealing with all of those frustrations in the other book I'm listening to, the one I needed a break from, my patience was already thin. Despite that, I fully intended to finish this - at the speed I listen, this would only take a few hours anyway. It's not a long book. I can power through.
But then the author decided to send me a passive aggressive message about one of my updates.
So, I've changed my mind. I am not going to finish it. Maybe that's petty. Probably it is. But if I'm already not feeling a book, that isn't going to make me feel more patient or charitable about it. So I'm out. Life is too short. On to the next.
I initially saw this book on a recommendations list of Indigenous fiction, and thought that it was right up my alley. So I requested it from the library, and then waited about a month for it... I started it last night after needing a change from my other reading, and now I'm DNFing it.
I am not liking the characters, or the writing, or the dialogue, or the audiobook readers who voice the characters. And considering that I was already dealing with all of those frustrations in the other book I'm listening to, the one I needed a break from, my patience was already thin. Despite that, I fully intended to finish this - at the speed I listen, this would only take a few hours anyway. It's not a long book. I can power through.
But then the author decided to send me a passive aggressive message about one of my updates.
So, I've changed my mind. I am not going to finish it. Maybe that's petty. Probably it is. But if I'm already not feeling a book, that isn't going to make me feel more patient or charitable about it. So I'm out. Life is too short. On to the next.
February 8, 2021
The Echota family has lost one of their sons, Ray-Ray to police brutality. He is shot at a mall after getting in a scuffle with two White boys. The police officer hears what he thinks is a gunshot and takes aim and fatally shoots Ray-Ray. He did not have a gun. He was the victim of the attack.
Every year on the anniversary of his death the family holds a bonfire to honor his memory. The Removed takes place in the days preceding the 15th anniversary. The story is told from the perspectives of Ray-Ray's mom, his sister Sonya and his brother Edgar. Despite the time that has passed the effects on the family are still quite dramatic. Maria suffers from panic attacks, Edgar has a substance abuse problem and Sonya behaves recklessly. Ernest has been lost to them as his Alzheimer's progresses.
Then Maria and Ernest take on a native foster child who shares an uncanny resemblance to their Ray-Ray. The similarity goes beyond appearance. He seems to have the same mannerisms as well. Ernest and Maria come to believe that he just might be their Ray-Ray's spirit come back to them.
Throughout the novel you also hear stories of the ancestors through Tsala. Through him we experience the Trail of Tears and the connection that passes through the generations. The Removed is full of magical realism, visions and Cherokee mythology.
A couple of years ago I read Where the Dead Sit Talking after it was nominated for the National Book Award. I thought that was a strong debut. But this is an even stronger sophomore effort.
Every year on the anniversary of his death the family holds a bonfire to honor his memory. The Removed takes place in the days preceding the 15th anniversary. The story is told from the perspectives of Ray-Ray's mom, his sister Sonya and his brother Edgar. Despite the time that has passed the effects on the family are still quite dramatic. Maria suffers from panic attacks, Edgar has a substance abuse problem and Sonya behaves recklessly. Ernest has been lost to them as his Alzheimer's progresses.
Then Maria and Ernest take on a native foster child who shares an uncanny resemblance to their Ray-Ray. The similarity goes beyond appearance. He seems to have the same mannerisms as well. Ernest and Maria come to believe that he just might be their Ray-Ray's spirit come back to them.
Throughout the novel you also hear stories of the ancestors through Tsala. Through him we experience the Trail of Tears and the connection that passes through the generations. The Removed is full of magical realism, visions and Cherokee mythology.
A couple of years ago I read Where the Dead Sit Talking after it was nominated for the National Book Award. I thought that was a strong debut. But this is an even stronger sophomore effort.
January 18, 2021
Contemporary fiction at its best, The Removed gave me exactly what I wanted and more.
Going into The Removed I was expecting a story full of vengeful characters considering all of their tragic backgrounds, but it is the exact opposite of that. While it would be nearly impossible to forgive the murderer of one of your loved ones, Brandon Hobson takes a different approach which I really enjoyed.
While we get a lot of talk about grief and family we also read about the different perspectives from Ray-Ray's older sister and younger brother. Undoubtedly I enjoyed the time we spent between the parents and their new foster child, but there's also a sub-plot about an abusive relationship and two pretty decent plot twists that I wasn't expecting.
Definitely deserving of a few literary awards, I'm hoping for a big release when this book is published!
Going into The Removed I was expecting a story full of vengeful characters considering all of their tragic backgrounds, but it is the exact opposite of that. While it would be nearly impossible to forgive the murderer of one of your loved ones, Brandon Hobson takes a different approach which I really enjoyed.
While we get a lot of talk about grief and family we also read about the different perspectives from Ray-Ray's older sister and younger brother. Undoubtedly I enjoyed the time we spent between the parents and their new foster child, but there's also a sub-plot about an abusive relationship and two pretty decent plot twists that I wasn't expecting.
Definitely deserving of a few literary awards, I'm hoping for a big release when this book is published!
February 20, 2021
Brandon Hobson’s The Removed is a novel so intimate that I felt as if I were eavesdropping into other people’s lives as I read it. It’s a novel in which the characters seem to burst out beyond the pages and covers (or, as the case may be, out of its .mobi file). The Removed is full of emotion, understanding, and empathy for its characters, suffused by sadness, frailty, and familal love.
I’ve previously read Hobson’s National Book Award finalist Where the Dead Sit Talking, his Desolation of Avenues Untold, and his earlier Deep Ellum, which unfortunately lacks the recognition and readership that it deserves. All Hobson novels display a rare authorial ability, shared by novelists as diverse as Becky Manawatu and Clarice Lispector, to portray the vulnerable with both respect and understanding, So it is with The Removed, in which each main character recognizes their own frailties and the frailties of those closest to them, and struggles to accept and overcome them. Hobson also punctuates his novels with a sneaky, sometimes tender unexpected humor. Perhaps my favorite scene in The Removed is with adolescent Wyatt and elderly, declining Ernest: ”Wyatt said, ‘Would you dance with me, Mr. Echota?’ / Ernest looked at me possibly for help. I laughed a little. ‘Dance?’ Ernest said to him. ‘Right now?’ / ‘Yes, sir.’ / ‘I’m old, son.’ / ‘Age means nothing. I just want to dance with you, sir.’ / ‘We’re both males.’ / ‘That doesn’t matter.’ / ‘I’m in bad health,’ Ernest said. ‘My back is sore. I’m sure my colon is ruptured.’”
Two key aspects of The Removed may interfere with its appeal to some readers. First, The Removed is thoughtfully and perhaps provocatively spiritual and spiritful. Even for this resolutely sublunary reader, the spiritualism in The Removed fits perfectly and strangely convinces. Here Tsala speaks: ”We are speakers of the dead, the drifters and messengers, the old and the young, lurking in the shadows of tall trees at night, passing through the walls of abandoned buildings and houses, concrete structures, stone walls and bridges. We are the ones watching from underwater, rising up like mist, spreading like a rainstorm, over fields and gardens and courtyards, flying over towers and rooftops and through the arched doorways of old buildings with spider cracks in their walls. We reveal ourselves to those who will look. It has been said we are illusions, nightmares and dreams, the disturbing and tense apparitions of the mind. We are always restless, carrying the dreams of children and the elderly, the tired and sick, the poor, the wounded. The removed.” Second, as in IRL, themes remain unresolved, pushing the reader to wonder, wonder, and wonder some more about the characters after-lives beyond The Removed’s ending.
Brandon Hobson’s writing in The Removed is superficially simple and straightforward. It’s best savored and read slowly, yielding a contemplative reading experience that continues after finishing. It’s deeply thought provoking and Inhabits one's thoughts with speculation about what did and didn’t occur, what may and may not occur. Hobson writes from the heart directly to the heart. With The Removed, Hobson secures his place among the top tier of contemporary American authors.
I’ve previously read Hobson’s National Book Award finalist Where the Dead Sit Talking, his Desolation of Avenues Untold, and his earlier Deep Ellum, which unfortunately lacks the recognition and readership that it deserves. All Hobson novels display a rare authorial ability, shared by novelists as diverse as Becky Manawatu and Clarice Lispector, to portray the vulnerable with both respect and understanding, So it is with The Removed, in which each main character recognizes their own frailties and the frailties of those closest to them, and struggles to accept and overcome them. Hobson also punctuates his novels with a sneaky, sometimes tender unexpected humor. Perhaps my favorite scene in The Removed is with adolescent Wyatt and elderly, declining Ernest: ”Wyatt said, ‘Would you dance with me, Mr. Echota?’ / Ernest looked at me possibly for help. I laughed a little. ‘Dance?’ Ernest said to him. ‘Right now?’ / ‘Yes, sir.’ / ‘I’m old, son.’ / ‘Age means nothing. I just want to dance with you, sir.’ / ‘We’re both males.’ / ‘That doesn’t matter.’ / ‘I’m in bad health,’ Ernest said. ‘My back is sore. I’m sure my colon is ruptured.’”
Two key aspects of The Removed may interfere with its appeal to some readers. First, The Removed is thoughtfully and perhaps provocatively spiritual and spiritful. Even for this resolutely sublunary reader, the spiritualism in The Removed fits perfectly and strangely convinces. Here Tsala speaks: ”We are speakers of the dead, the drifters and messengers, the old and the young, lurking in the shadows of tall trees at night, passing through the walls of abandoned buildings and houses, concrete structures, stone walls and bridges. We are the ones watching from underwater, rising up like mist, spreading like a rainstorm, over fields and gardens and courtyards, flying over towers and rooftops and through the arched doorways of old buildings with spider cracks in their walls. We reveal ourselves to those who will look. It has been said we are illusions, nightmares and dreams, the disturbing and tense apparitions of the mind. We are always restless, carrying the dreams of children and the elderly, the tired and sick, the poor, the wounded. The removed.” Second, as in IRL, themes remain unresolved, pushing the reader to wonder, wonder, and wonder some more about the characters after-lives beyond The Removed’s ending.
Brandon Hobson’s writing in The Removed is superficially simple and straightforward. It’s best savored and read slowly, yielding a contemplative reading experience that continues after finishing. It’s deeply thought provoking and Inhabits one's thoughts with speculation about what did and didn’t occur, what may and may not occur. Hobson writes from the heart directly to the heart. With The Removed, Hobson secures his place among the top tier of contemporary American authors.
March 15, 2021
Brandon Hobson pulls the reader into this story about a family through multiple narrators, including an ancestor, dreams, and stories based in Cherokee traditions. The Trail of Tears feels ever present alongside a son who was killed by police for no reason, and both anniversaries are coming up when the older couple welcome an emergency foster child into their home. The child seems to awaken the couple in more ways than one.
The writing is engaging for sure, and this is a quick read, but I was not satisfied by all the story lines. (Maybe a few less next time?) And the living brother's situation confused me as he seemed to be in some kind of non-living place unless that's just a huge metaphor or a meth spin.
I had a copy of this from the publisher through NetGalley. It came out February 2nd so I'm a bit behind.
The writing is engaging for sure, and this is a quick read, but I was not satisfied by all the story lines. (Maybe a few less next time?) And the living brother's situation confused me as he seemed to be in some kind of non-living place unless that's just a huge metaphor or a meth spin.
I had a copy of this from the publisher through NetGalley. It came out February 2nd so I'm a bit behind.
August 21, 2021
3.5 stars
Brandon Hobson’s The Removed is another book I picked up for book club and while I did enjoy it overall, there were some inconsistencies and issues with the story that made this a bit of a tedious read.
First off, I have to say that the writing here was excellent — in fact, the engaging and lyrical flow of the writing was one of the things I liked most about this book, especially the chapters narrated by Maria, which were by far the strongest parts of the story. Those were the chapters that actually moved me the most on an emotional level and made me wish that the entire story revolved around Maria, Ernest, and Wyatt only without the other characters’ story arcs (more on this later).
While the writing was good, I did have some problems with the execution of the story, which I thought was a bit uneven. Hobson introduces several heavy topics in this book — grief over the loss of a loved one, the dangers of racial profiling and stereotyping, terminal illness, substance abuse, plight of the indigenous and people of cope, etc — however I felt like the only topic that was thoroughly explored was grief…it almost seemed like perhaps Hobson tried to cover too much all in one shot and some of the other topics ended up falling by the wayside.
And that brings me to the most frustrating parts of this book — the story arcs involving Sonja and Edgar. I felt like Sonja’s entire story was unnecessary and added no value to the story (aside from the “reveal” near the end, though that still didn’t justify the necessity of the rest of her story in my opinion). I also had issues with the way Sonja’s character was written, as most of her behavior throughout the story didn’t really make sense, even when viewed through the lens of trying to cope with the grief of losing her brother.
In terms of Edgar’s story arc — well, let’s just say that I didn’t understand majority of it. It seemed like Edgar’s story was written incorporating magical realism, which is something I don’t read much of so perhaps that’s why it didn’t work for me. I mean, plot-wise, I know what happened in Edgar’s chapters, but I didn’t really understand the point of it all. It probably didn’t help that there was also a lot of symbolism and metaphorical language in the telling of Edgar’s story that gave it a dreamlike feel that didn’t match with the other 2 narratives. In addition, similar to Sonja’s story arc, Edgar’s story arc was unresolved (basically the plot dropped off suddenly, which made the arc feel incomplete) — and both arcs seemed to be completely detached from the main story about their parents, Maria and Ernest. It almost felt like I was reading 3 different unrelated stories, except that the way the book was structured, each chapter alternated between the 3 narratives — so I would read 1 chapter from Maria’s perspective, then the next chapter would be Edgar’s perspective, then Sonja, then Maria, etc. Given that I only truly liked Maria’s story, this kind of structure made the entire read a tedious and frustrating one.
Overall, I would classify this one under “it’s probably me, not the book.” Hobson is an award-winning author and I certainly don’t doubt his writing prowess (after all, as I stated above, I did like the writing), but this book just wasn’t for me. While I don’t regret reading it, I feel like I spent way too much time on it than I should have. Ah well…onto the next book!!
February 2, 2021
There are not words to describe how beautiful this story is. The reader is immediately drawn into the tragic history of the Echota family who must deal with the shooting death of their youngest child and brother, Ray-Ray. I loved how Hobson weaved in Cherokee folklore to the story. Simply stunning writing.
January 26, 2021
I was very disappointed in this book. Where it started off interesting and promising, the prologue telling us about Ray-Ray and his death, what followed was unable to live up to those first few pages. The story felt extremely disjointed, random at times, and concluded without any real follow through. Where we do get a small semblance of each narrator confronting their grief of ray-ray’s passing, the journeys to these revelations were extremely bizarre and left to an unsatisfactory ending, (Edgar’s journey being very confusing, it was extremely difficult to understand if anything he experienced in the Darkening Land was real, I had a theory that Edgar was actually in rehab and that his perception of what was happening during his time here was actually him going through withdrawal hallucinations, but sadly was disappointed that we don’t even get any follow through with what really all of this was about).
Two things that really annoyed me and didn’t follow the continuity of the overall story; first we are told several times throughout the first of Maria’s chapters that the foster boy Wyatt is 12, a bit younger than Ray-Ray was at his death. Then for some odd reason later on when Wyatt is spending time with Ernest and Maria, he comments on how he wishes he could grow a beard, and Ernest replies “You’re fifteen, so you can start trying” at first I thought this could be written off to Ernest having alzheimer’s but neither maria nor wyatt correct him, and they carry on with their evening. Also Wyatt mentions earlier that he is in ninth grade which is a bit strange for a twelve year old to be in, but I didn’t think too much on it assuming that since he loved school, maybe he skipped a grade or two, bus still was he twelve or fifteen? Still unsure.
Second, sonja first introduces herself to Vin as Collette and throughout her time with Vin, she never admits to her lie (unless i missed this) continuing to refer to herself as Collette even when answering the phone call from Luka, but when she confronts Vin in the basement about his father being the officer who shot Ray-Ray, Vin calls her Sonja “Settle, down Sonja”. I’m not sure if this is a mistake on the authors part or if we are supposed to believe that Vin knew her true identity the entire time she was trying to get close to him, either way we don’t get a real explanation to why he calls her Sonja here and not Collette and it just adds to the fact that this book really makes no sense.
Two things that really annoyed me and didn’t follow the continuity of the overall story; first we are told several times throughout the first of Maria’s chapters that the foster boy Wyatt is 12, a bit younger than Ray-Ray was at his death. Then for some odd reason later on when Wyatt is spending time with Ernest and Maria, he comments on how he wishes he could grow a beard, and Ernest replies “You’re fifteen, so you can start trying” at first I thought this could be written off to Ernest having alzheimer’s but neither maria nor wyatt correct him, and they carry on with their evening. Also Wyatt mentions earlier that he is in ninth grade which is a bit strange for a twelve year old to be in, but I didn’t think too much on it assuming that since he loved school, maybe he skipped a grade or two, bus still was he twelve or fifteen? Still unsure.
Second, sonja first introduces herself to Vin as Collette and throughout her time with Vin, she never admits to her lie (unless i missed this) continuing to refer to herself as Collette even when answering the phone call from Luka, but when she confronts Vin in the basement about his father being the officer who shot Ray-Ray, Vin calls her Sonja “Settle, down Sonja”. I’m not sure if this is a mistake on the authors part or if we are supposed to believe that Vin knew her true identity the entire time she was trying to get close to him, either way we don’t get a real explanation to why he calls her Sonja here and not Collette and it just adds to the fact that this book really makes no sense.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 28, 2021
This book centers around a family dealing with the collective grief over the death of one of the sons. Alternating chapters are narrated by either the mother, sister, or brother of the dead son. Also included are chapters narrated by a spirit. With the exception of the spirit narrator, there is no distinct voice for the individual characters.
August 17, 2021
National Book Award Finalist (Where the Dead Sit Talking) Hobson has incorporated Cherokee myths—some real, some fictional, Cherokee history and magical realism into a moving story of a fractured family trying to find its way home in time for the Annual Bonfire honoring the Cherokee National Holiday and the anniversary of the death of Ray-Ray.
Ray-Ray died 15 years ago when a police officer thought the teenager had a gun. He didn’t! The strain of this tragedy on the Echota family is particularly pronounced this year. The mother Maria is dealing with Ernest’s drift into Alzheimer’s. Ray-Ray’s brother, Edgar, is addicted to meth and his mind has entered the Darkening Land. Sonja, seems obsessed with Vin, a young man linked to the family’s tragic past. Hobson has the Spirit world come to help them heal so that they can find their way home.
The multiple points of view/timelines, plus shape-shifting ghosts can be a bit tricky to follow at times, but rewarding in the end.
Ray-Ray died 15 years ago when a police officer thought the teenager had a gun. He didn’t! The strain of this tragedy on the Echota family is particularly pronounced this year. The mother Maria is dealing with Ernest’s drift into Alzheimer’s. Ray-Ray’s brother, Edgar, is addicted to meth and his mind has entered the Darkening Land. Sonja, seems obsessed with Vin, a young man linked to the family’s tragic past. Hobson has the Spirit world come to help them heal so that they can find their way home.
The multiple points of view/timelines, plus shape-shifting ghosts can be a bit tricky to follow at times, but rewarding in the end.
April 16, 2021
This novel combines the present day issues facing a Cherokee family entwined with Cherokee folklore and the generational repercussions of the "trail of tears". This story is told in different points of view of each surviving member of the Echota family, as they continue to deal with grief from the shooting of their son and brother, Ray-Ray, 15 years ago. The intertwining themes of loss and tradition intersperse with the beliefs and traditions this Native American family deal with as they prepare for the annual bonfire on the anniversary of Ray-Ray's death.
October 8, 2020
The Removed is an incredible book, a book full of honesty and pain and the ethic of keeping on. It's about dispossession and racism, and about youth and age in dialogue with one another. It's got passages of sweeping magnificence and as mundane as describing litter, and it 's all woven together masterfully in a story that will resonate with me for a long time. The characters are real and flawed and their hopes are true and painful: there's the daughter who lies to conceal her hurt and history, the gentle and awkward foster child, the wife watching her husband's dementia whittle him away, the son who has to confront his fears and self-loathing. I felt for all of these characters, and I think other readers will feel for them too. This would be a great book for discussing along with a history of the Cherokee, US colonialism, and race in America today.
January 11, 2021
Edit: Jan 11, 2021- While I am not going to change anything in the below review, I would like to clarify that I did not give this a 3 based on a few grammar mistakes. Yes, I brought this up in my review as I found they were a bit... jarring, compared to other ARCs I have read. But I just found the overall writing to be too simple, not in terms of grammar. It was just very simple prose. And the story didn't come together for me. Even if it had 100% perfect grammar, it wouldn't matter- it is still getting a low 3 from me.
*I received a free ARC of this book by NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
The Removed is a story of loss and how it affects a family, even years later. It is an easy, quick read, told in simple language. It follows several different characters as each of them tackles unique struggles in their lives, all of which relate back to the death of their brother/son.
After reading it, I can’t help but feel the book didn’t know what it wanted to be. The whole thing seemed disjointed and I felt like it could have benefited from some tightening up. Sometimes the prose being used was actually TOO simple. I can’t count the amount of times “rotting house” was used in Edgar’s chapters and although it was an ARC copy, there were some awkward grammar mistakes like “didn’t felt cold”. There was also a passage where within a paragraph a character says “In the kitchen I made Papa a glass of water with ice and took it to him in the living room” and then almost immediately after, “In the kitchen I made myself a salad”. Also, I don’t think I have ever heard of someone making a glass of water. Maybe pouring a glass of water or getting a glass of water. It just felt like both the writing and story both could have been tweaked a bit.
Additionally, I felt that Ray-Ray’s death by police shooting should have been explored further as it has almost no bearing on anything in the novel until the very end. Why did the author choose to include death by police shooting if not to explore that theme? Ray-Ray’s death does have an effect on all of the characters, but his death could have been from anything. Overall, this novel was an okay one for me- not great, not bad. I didn’t feel satisfied when I finished reading it, but that doesn’t mean others won’t love it.
*I received a free ARC of this book by NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
The Removed is a story of loss and how it affects a family, even years later. It is an easy, quick read, told in simple language. It follows several different characters as each of them tackles unique struggles in their lives, all of which relate back to the death of their brother/son.
After reading it, I can’t help but feel the book didn’t know what it wanted to be. The whole thing seemed disjointed and I felt like it could have benefited from some tightening up. Sometimes the prose being used was actually TOO simple. I can’t count the amount of times “rotting house” was used in Edgar’s chapters and although it was an ARC copy, there were some awkward grammar mistakes like “didn’t felt cold”. There was also a passage where within a paragraph a character says “In the kitchen I made Papa a glass of water with ice and took it to him in the living room” and then almost immediately after, “In the kitchen I made myself a salad”. Also, I don’t think I have ever heard of someone making a glass of water. Maybe pouring a glass of water or getting a glass of water. It just felt like both the writing and story both could have been tweaked a bit.
Additionally, I felt that Ray-Ray’s death by police shooting should have been explored further as it has almost no bearing on anything in the novel until the very end. Why did the author choose to include death by police shooting if not to explore that theme? Ray-Ray’s death does have an effect on all of the characters, but his death could have been from anything. Overall, this novel was an okay one for me- not great, not bad. I didn’t feel satisfied when I finished reading it, but that doesn’t mean others won’t love it.
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