Review of (S)Kin by Ibi Zoboi: When Expectations Meet Disappointment
I stumbled upon Ibi Zoboi’s (S)Kin with high hopes, largely due to her impressive body of work and the intriguing premise of two girls navigating their monstrous identities. The blend of Caribbean folklore and contemporaneous issues surrounding race promised a rich tapestry of storytelling. But what I encountered instead was a narrative fraught with troubling errors and unfulfilled potential, leading me to reflect quite critically on what I read.
At its core, (S)Kin tells the story of Marisol and Genevieve, two girls connected through a shared heritage of supernatural abilities. The eerie notion of soucouyants and lougarous—folkloric creatures that shed their skin at night—holds deep cultural significance. Here, however, the execution missed the mark. Zoboi’s attempt at representing these figures often felt haphazard, blending various Caribbean cultures into a narrative that lacked depth and specificity. The uneasy cadence of the verse format only amplified these issues. The sporadic flow made it challenging to fully immerse myself in the story or feel the characters’ emotional arcs.
The novel’s exploration of colorism also struck a dissonant chord with me. Marisol, with dark skin and tight curls, grapples with feelings of resentment toward Genevieve, who embodies a more conventionally "pretty" look. This treatment seemed heavy-handed, reminiscent of the themes presented in Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye. While I appreciate attempts to discuss such topics, the execution left me feeling disheartened rather than enlightened. Instead of showcasing the complexity and richness of racial identity, it leaned into stereotypes, thus undercutting its own messages.
Among the characters, Jaden, a Jab Jab, represented the most intriguing aspect of the narrative. Although portrayed as "evil," his presence invited curiosity and complexity. However, even he fell victim to a lack of depth; the story tantalizingly hinted at his backstory but ultimately left me wanting more. Zoboi’s characters displayed traits of emotional turmoil, yet the narrative often failed to connect these elements coherently.
The lack of effective worldbuilding became glaringly apparent. For instance, the muddled usage of the terms soucouyant and lougarou left me confused and dissatisfied. I longed for a deeper engagement with these elements, akin to the thoughtful representations found in other media. The comparison to video games, such as Shin Megami Tensei, only served to highlight how much nuance was missing in Zoboi’s take.
In summary, while (S)Kin seeks to illuminate the horrors of racial trauma and the complexities of identity within a fantastical context, it often stumbles into oversimplified portrayals. The uneven writing style and superficial worldbuilding only exacerbate an already fraught theme. I hope readers who venture into this book carry an awareness of the rich cultural histories that deserve more careful representation. For those drawn to tales of identity explored through supernatural lenses, consider looking elsewhere.
Ultimately, my experience with (S)Kin left me feeling a mix of disappointment and reflection. I had hoped for a work that would resonate deeply, but instead, I found myself wrestling with its shortcomings. As I close this chapter, I can’t help but feel that this book, despite its ambitions, fell short of what it aimed to accomplish. 🌌