THE UNDEAD TRUTH OF US

Grieving a dead parent is made even more unbearable by a zombie outbreak only Zharie seems to notice.

Zharie and her mother were the only Black women on the West Coast Swing dance floor, but after her mother’s death, Zharie is alone in other ways, questioning everything about her mom’s death, especially why no one else noticed she morphed into a zombie as she died. Now Zharie sees zombies everywhere, unsure if everyone else is oblivious, if it’s all a side effect of playing the Cranberries on repeat, or if it’s psychosis brought about by obvious trauma. But when Bo, a charming Black and Vietnamese boy, moves in above the apartment she’s sharing with her emotionally distant aunt, Zharie notices that half of him seems to be a decaying corpse—but only sometimes. The other half is the cute boy she wants to get to know better, if only because he’s an anomaly in this one-sided zombie apocalypse. Zharie narrates this mindfully haunting story with a sharp attention to sensory details, emphasizing the visceral shifts from living to undead and back; for Zharie, being close to Bo, with his soft lips and disarming smile, can quickly become proximity to death, gore, and a pungent stench. Still, she perseveres, learning that zombies are less a threat and more a symbol of heartbreak, but unfortunately there’s more to come as she uncovers the circumstances surrounding her mother’s final days.

A terrifyingly grounded accounting of the monsters that haunt us.