The rushing of the water turned to whispers, hisses sounding one word over and over: Alicia, Alicia, Alicia. It became a song. Alicia could hear River Mumma’s voice in the current. Intoxicating and haunting. Waves splashed on the bank, breaking upon Alicia’s feet, encircling her ankles like hands gripping her joints. She felt an ever-so-delicate pull toward the river, and she complied. She should resist, but she couldn’t. She had to listen to what the voice said.
River Mumma was so much more fun than I had expected — it’s a quest story populated with strange and dangerous creatures from Jamaican mythology — and it was also surprisingly meaningful and observant; similar in voice and setting to author Zalika Reid-Benta’s last release, Frying Plantain (once again, this is from the POV of a first generation Jamaican-Canadian living with her protective and hard-working single mother), this has much to say about keeping faith with one’s ancestors and finding meaning in community. This was so cinematic — the “duppies” were terrifying and the Toronto setting was lovingly evoked — and while I tend to agree with the adage that “good books don’t make good movies”, this is the exception: I loved this read and I would love to see it on film. Perhaps this could have been longer and devoted more space to character development and deep analysis, but I love this for what it is and can’t give fewer than full marks. (Note: I read an ARC and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.)
In the time Alicia referred to as Before, things weren’t like this. She wasn’t like this. Four years of undergrad completed in three, another eighteen months in New York earning an MA and founding a graduate lit mag, and internships at two boutique literary agencies. She was on her way to becoming the next Toni Morrison of publishing, only to graduate and discover a wasteland in place of the opportunities she’d been promised. She’d returned to Toronto when her money ran out, applied everywhere, and got no interviews. Now everything seemed pointless, including and especially this party.
At twenty-six, Alicia didn’t think she’d be back living with her mom in Toronto, working a low-paid retail job, suffering a quarter-life crisis of no friends but coworkers, no plans but survival, no growth in sight. She also didn’t think that she would suddenly be once again experiencing the “sight” that gave her such awful nightmares as a child; but this time, in addition to ghostly visions and “journeying” through time and space, Alicia comes face-to-face with one of the most powerful deities of Jamaican folklore: the River Mumma — a mermaid-like guardian of the waters, none too happy about the pollution of the waterways, exploitative extraction, and the diaspora who seem to have forgotten the importance of honouring her — and although Alicia doesn’t think that she has the skills or knowledge base to become the “chosen one”, River Mumma sets her on a quest that will have dire consequences if she should fail. Joined in her quest by two coworkers — Mars and Heaven, who Alicia never really even thought of as friends, but who are also members of the Jamaican-Canadian community — the plot is propulsive with a tight timeline (Alicia must recover River Mumma's stolen golden comb before sunset the next day; around four o’clock on this winter’s day), constant setbacks (including attacks by the duppies who don’t want her to succeed), and Alicia keeps losing time to visions and journeying: but just what is it her ancestors need for her to learn?
She wanted to get up and rally — she’d spent much longer at UC than she’d intended, it was already eleven o’clock and she still had no way of finding the comb — but her body hadn’t finished processing the knowledge her ancestors had decided she should experience first-hand in order to acquire. It was a peculiar thing; to feel such a profound sense of pride in the resistance, in the will to live of the people who came before her, and feel personally lacking in the face of that ability at the same time. She had done nothing with her life. When tasked with a duty, the same kind of duty they’d carried out, she resented the responsibility. Heaven was right. She wasn’t the right person for this job.
Layered on to the quest plot is a nicely nuanced exploration of the malaise of disconnection felt by young people today — and specifically the disconnection felt by Toronto’s Afro-Caribbean community. From learning about the resilience of one’s ancestors to remembering to honour the sacred in one’s daily life, it’s suggested that the cure to existential crisis can be found in strengthening the ties with one’s community; it sure can’t hurt. On top of this, I loved the setting: I don’t live in Toronto but I enjoyed all of the local references — from Timbits and the Cashman (I did laugh when Mars suggested visiting “Oliver’s” to pawn some gold) to aggressive Toronto drivers and taking forever to merge onto the Gardiner — I’ve lived this (even if I wasn’t being chased by a fire-breathing cow) and it brought the story to life for me. There’s much more to this than a fantastical vengeful mermaid, but River Mumma is definitely the star and I am so glad to have learned about her. Reid-Benta knocked this outta the park (which I will always mentally refer to as the SkyDome) and I hope this finds a wide audience.
