(S)Kin

Decent verse read. Interesting content.

I love Punching the Air and think Ibi Zoboi should just write novels-in-verse from here on out! When I found out she has another HiLo verse novel coming, I had to read it. Think about the cleverness of this title. A far cry from teen justice, but still haunting with it's touches on racism, socioeconomic status, and culture, the  title implies both the concept of Skinwalkers, and also the kinship between family.(S)Kin follows the alternative perspectives of Marisol and Genevieve. Marisol is the fifteen-year-old daughter of a soucouyant, the Caribbean cultural island term for a Skinwalker. She and her mother shed their skin once a month and must drink the life force from others in order to survive. Having moved to Brooklyn, the life of a soucouyant, a black girl, and islander, someone who is poor, is not ideal, and if they were to be found out, they would likely be hunted, almost like the witch trials. It's hard enough to live as it is!Genevieve is the seventeen-year-old daughter of a college professor. He and her step-mom have had twins, and now she is an older sister to two little half-siblings. Genevieve suffers from a severe skin condition that seems to be getting worse as she gets older. She has heard legends of the soucouyant from her father, though he seems to believe in their truth. After an accident with one of the babies, Genevieve worries she might be something she never dreamed could be true and must learn how to save herself to protect those she loves.So how do the stories come together? Marisol's mother applies for a job to help take care of Genevieve's twin siblings. In this, Genevieve finds that this woman has the power to sooth her skin condition, but also seems to know her father. Many secrets will unwind as to soucouyant must make their lives in the new world while still continuing the rituals of old that their bodies require.The poetic verse style was  a fun way to get to know the characters, gave a beat to the reading, and offered some truly creative elements with blending the perspectives and playing with structure. It was nice to see the cultural aspects of folklore from the Caribbean. It also offers some insight in to skin color and classism in contemporary New York. The touch on culture shows how integral our roots are and the mystic connections that bind us.I look forward to Ibi Zoboi's next novel-in-verse; whatever it may be about, I  know it will be brilliant.

From the moment I saw the cover of this book, I was captivated. It’s absolutely stunning and, paired with the intriguing synopsis, immediately drew me in. Although fantasy isn’t usually my go-to genre, this contemporary young adult story infused with Caribbean folklore completely won me over with its beautiful, poetic writing.The novel thoughtfully explores themes of immigration, race, cultural appropriation, and complex familial relationships. The dynamic between the two teen protagonists—so different in their physical, mental, and emotional states—was compelling to read. Their contrasting skin tones and upbringings added layers to their relationship, highlighting the tension and challenges they faced upon meeting and navigating their bond thereafter.I found the motif of skin particularly fascinating, especially as it underwent physical changes throughout the story. It seemed to reflect the girls’ inner and outer turmoil, acting as more than just a surface but rather a shell that contained deeper struggles and transformations.My only critique is that the ending felt a bit rushed. I wish the story had unfolded more gradually toward its conclusion, as it left me wanting more closure. That said, the book carries a beautiful and powerful message, one that will surely resonate with young adult readers—especially given how adolescence is already a time of profound change and self-discovery.

There is something truly magical about books done in verse and this one meets all those expectations! It was filled with beautiful prose!

Imagine you are a creature of Caribbean folklore - a soucouyant or lougarou, a shape-shifting witch who sheds her skin every new moon and hunts the souls of those who have wronged you during the month. Imagine being that - but also an undocumented migrant in Brooklyn? Or the mixed-race daughter of an anthropology professor who made it his life's work to put those legends to the scientific test? Your skin problems must be eczema, you think. Or gluten intolerance, what else could it be?This story follows two teenage girls who are just that. Marisol, who has just arrived in New York with her mother from the islands, and who has yet to decide which prejudice she "prefers" to suffer from: that of the magic-believing people back home (where both were shunned as "witches") or that of the racialized hierarchy in the U.S. (where what is available to them is very much defined by the markers society has placed on them: "black", "immigrant", "poor", "undocumented"). Genevieve, on the other hand, seems to live a life of privilege, the daughter of a college professor, but she never knew her mother and grew up as the only half-black person in her father's and stepmother's family, which now includes two baby half-siblings, lacking any connection to the culture that would help her make sense of herself.What comes to mind when you think of novels in verse? I have to admit that I imagine something from the time of Lord Byron, which I appreciate for its historical value, but which I hardly reach for out of personal interest. It turns out that a novel in verse can even take the form of a contemporary YA fantasy, and to quite a powerful effect! Where prose would be too concrete of a medium, free verse here allows for half-capturing, half-hinting at what should never be put into a fully defined form, but should remain in-com-pro-hen-sible.As good poetry can do, this novel touches on so much more than its main fantasy plot about magic. It is also about motherhood and generational dynamics, about displacement and belonging... "We have left the place where we make sense," the heroine muses, and (as someone who has been thinking a lot about various displacement narratives lately) I think this is such a great way to capture the feeling that many of them share.However, there is one question that I would like to raise here, not as a criticism, but out of pure curiosity: why does the author choose to present Caribbean cultures as a homogeneous continuum, and to list the ways in which, for example, the folklore of Haiti, Trinidad, and Jamaica refers to the mythical creature in question as a list of synonyms, rather than locating the story in the specificity of one culture? All the events "back home" are referred to as having taken place somewhere on the islands, again without any geographical specificity. As the author is a native of Haiti and not an outsider prone to generalizations out of ignorance, I am sure there were good reasons for this choice, but what are they, other than greater accessibility for those ignorant outsiders among the readers (like myself), I really wonder.4,5 stars.I am grateful to HarperCollins for providing me with a free eARC of this title through NetGalley; the opinions expressed are entirely my own.