Kin

Deep in rural Louisiana in 1941, a young mother is gunned down by her husband before he turns the weapon on himself. Elsewhere in town, a woman gives birth to a little girl, only to abandon her while the baby "was womb-wet, having suckled just one time." Both mothers leave behind young daughters—Vernice and Annie—who are raised by their aunt and grandmother, respectively. Thrust together as "cradle friends" when their new caretakers need relief, the girls form an unbreakable, lifelong bond.

Though cared for, the girls grow up without feeling overly loved, and the pain of maternal abandonment lingers. While Vernice's mother had no choice in her fate, Vernice still wonders what might have been. Annie, however, becomes consumed by a desire to reunite with her mother, Hattie Lee.

Kin follows the girls into adulthood as their paths diverge: Vernice heads to Atlanta to attend Spelman College, while Annie travels to Memphis in search of Hattie Lee. Vernice drifts into an unfamiliar life of privilege, whereas Annie seeks any way possible to fill the mother-sized hole in her heart.

The novel offers a deep exploration of female friendship and the critical nature of mother-daughter bonds. This theme unfolds through the additional friendships and surrogate mother figures (and men) the young women encounter in their attempt to fill that void. Beneath this core focus, Tayari Jones examines the era's racial injustices, as well as the emerging Black upper class in the Deep South and the intra-community class tensions it created.

Amazon made Kin its Best Book of the Year So Far, and while it is quite good, it missed some of the magic I found in other books from that list that ranked higher on mine. It was satisfying, full of insightful commentary, packed with memorable similes, and featured a better-than-average plot. I came in with high expectations given the hype, and those expectations—more than anything the book did or didn't do—left me slightly underwhelmed. Kin still delivered on most of what I wanted out of the novel. Recommended, but temper your expectations to avoid the tiniest pinch of disappointment that befell me.