LIQUID SNAKES

An espresso-dark saga of retribution, addiction, hard science, racial justice, toxic death—and black coffee—plays itself out quirkily in and around contemporary Atlanta.

Just as most of us are getting back to living (more or less) normal lives in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic, here comes a novel that envisages an outrageous, eerily plausible human-made plague festering in the same city where the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is headquartered. A gifted Black high school student has somehow chemically dissolved into a dark, acrid substance. For tough-minded CDC investigators Ebonee McCollum and Lauretta Vickers, it’s just the beginning of a vexing inquiry into a series of similar deaths and disappearances that may be rooted in a case years before of “Black death” in a predominantly African American section of Mobile, Alabama, where generations of residents died of cancer before their 60s, likely because of industrial waste from nearby companies. One possible casualty of that slow-motion environmental calamity was the stillborn daughter of Kenny Bomar and Maddy Tusk, now-divorced chemists. Kenny is currently applying his alchemical gifts primarily to his Decatur coffee shop and to fashioning and peddling exotic variations of designer drugs. As one narrative strain follows Ebonee and Retta along their probe into what seems like a baffling epidemic of suicide-through-chemistry, a concurrent strain involves Kenny’s eccentric self-destructive tendencies, primarily his self-injections of venom from various species of snake and a phone app of his devising called EightBall, which started out as a memorial for his daughter but became an addictive means of both communicating with and eavesdropping on its users, including some of the people who morphed into black goo. It becomes clear that Kenny is ultimately out for revenge against the company he blames for his daughter’s death. But even after that revelation, there are many more questions than answers in Kearse’s enigmatic narrative, whose deadpan tone and sudden eruptions of bizarre violence often evoke the allusive, baleful essences of J.G. Ballard’s grimly visionary speculative fiction but with wittier dialogue and robustly seasoned with a rapier-keen perception of the collective psyche and complex aspirations of the Black intelligentsia.

A dry, devilish amalgam of science fiction, whodunit, horror, social satire, and cautionary tale.