The Reformatory Commentary
SPOILERS AHEAD
Tananarive Due’s most recent novel, The Reformatory, is a beyond-horrifying, semi-fictional story about a young man’s torturous imprisonment in the evil Gracetown School for Boys— nicknamed the Reformatory— and his family’s daring efforts in the face of Jim Crow era Florida to free him. Only a child, Robert Stephens is unfairly sent to the Reformatory after kicking a wealthy white boy and soon learns just how deadly the sentence is. Not only must Robert survive the sadistic warden, the untrustworthy adult staff, and even the other boys, he must also navigate a hellscape populated with haints— ghosts of dead boys killed at the “school”. Fortunately, Robert’s family on the outside is striving to get him out. His older sister, Gloria, tries any means possible to gain Robert’s freedom: she tries maneuvering the Reformatory’s system, finding a NAACP lawyer to talk to the judge, even being patient and grateful that his sentence isn’t longer. Finally, out of other options, she decides to help her brother escape. Gloria seeks the help of the adults in her community as they use collective knowledge to plan a breakout for Robert. But, God, a lot can happen in the week leading up to the day of escape.
Due’s writing is gripping, intense— at times, yes, a little brutal— and also filled with love. Though for some readers this book may be too graphic, I believe it’s justified. Some could try to argue that there are instances of trauma porn in this book, but I’d disagree. To me, trauma porn is graphic just for graphic’s sake, whereas Due’s story is graphic to reveal truth— to identify, experience, and condemn the violence of racism, both individual and systemic.
On a more personal level, though highly fictionalized, Due’s story is based on a real place: the Dozier School for Boys in Marianna, Florida. Her great uncle, Robert Stephens, died at the school in 1937 when he was only 15 years old after a fatal stabbing. I kept his memory front of mind as I read, as well as the memory of hundreds of children across our country who have been imprisoned and dehumanized by various means. You can feel their angry spirits as you read.
Due writes in her Author’s Note,
“… but the truth is that no one person can explain away the reported events at the Dozier School, or the Alabama Industrial School for Negro Children, or the Indigenous “schools” in Canada where so many children where buried. No one person can be blamed for our nation’s current nightmare of mass incarceration. The Reformatory has a central villain, but the actual villain is a system of dehumanization.”
I appreciate how Due writes about place— the grounds of the Reformatory are alive with violence, blood in the red soil, the smell of smoke, screams from the earth. The land never forgets.
Due explains it,
“We got a sickness here in Gracetown… A blood sickness. Too much killing and dying. Too many restless spirits. Angry spirits. You think ghosts walk in the summer in ev’ry town? You think creatures steal children in the swamp down in Miami, or Palm Beach? Or leeches nests inside babies over in Tallahassee? Maybe it’s a curse on us— a town named for Grace that don’t act like no godly place.”
The horror of the story lies in the very real brutality of the Reformatory, and in the supernatural— the haints that Robert encounters all around him. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell who’s a haint and who’s alive. Robert is sensitive to it and when the warden sets his sights on Robert, he must perform his role of haint-catcher or face terrible violence. But that role is it’s own kind of brutality against the spirits, trapping them in a jar the warden keeps in his office. Robert must confront his morality and decide whether to succumb to the Reformatory’s spell of depravit— like everyone else— or resist it.
For readers looking for good horror in historical fiction, The Reformatory is a great pick. A bit long at first glance, I promise it’s all worth it in the tension Due builds so well.