BROUGHTUPSY

After her brother's untimely death, a young, queer Jamaican woman living in Canada travels home to Kingston.

Twice during her bumpy attempt to reacquaint herself with the city of her birth, Akúa is accused of having no “broughtupsy”—manners. “ ‘Yuh see dis?’ the woman says, nudging someone beside her. ‘Gyal nuh ’ave no broughtupsy.’ ” Though she was born and lived there until her mother’s death from sickle cell anemia when Akúa was 10, she is now 20 and making her first return visit. It is 1996; the occasion is a sad one. Her 12-year-old brother has also died of sickle cell, and she is returning to spread his ashes. It is the first time she’s seen her older sister, Tamika, since their widowed father left the island for Texas, then Vancouver, taking Akúa with him; Tamika chose to stay on and attend boarding school. As a committed Christian, Tamika is appalled by Akúa's sexuality (she’s just parted ways with a longtime girlfriend), warning her that she will not be accepted. “ ‘They will laugh at you and spit in your face,’ Tamika says. ‘Are you listening? They will stone you. They will bring their machetes and guns. Listen to me, mi seh! They will butcher you in broad daylight then leave you to rot. And the police will pay you no mind.’ ” The style mixes a straightforward simplicity with patois vocabulary and, ultimately, more graphic language after Akúa gets sexually involved with a woman who works in a strip club. As Akúa’s time in Kingston moves forward, as she deposits bits of her brother’s ashes at key locations from her childhood, the story builds to a fierce, then sweetly redemptive, climax. The voice of innocence, the violence, and the sibling dynamics of Cooke’s debut recall Justin Torres’ We the Animals (2011),also a queer coming-of-age story—but this blend of those elements is as unique as a thumbprint.

Vivid, emotionally intense, and unafraid of the dark.