“Time goes by slowly in the projects.
Most of the time it seems to stop completely.
No money.
No job.
No hope for the future; no reason for time.”
– “Chocolate Park” by Chesya Burke
I love all kinds of genre fiction (fantasy, science fiction, horror, etc.) but for me, genre fiction is at its very best when the fantastical elements that create the literary escapism are blended together with relevant themes and insightful social commentary: entertainment and – hopefully – some level of enlightenment. The message could be obvious, as in Walter M. Miller, Jr.’s A Canticle for Leibowitz or Make Room! Make Room! by Harry Harrison, or it could be more subtle like Kirsten Imani Kasai’s Ice Song – but for me, that is what makes a good story a great one.
The 11 tales featured in Chesya Burke’s short story collection Let's Play White explore a diversity of subject matter: racism, poverty, sexism, addiction, revenge, redemption, etc. and the social commentary that fuels these dark fantasy gems is far from subtle – in fact, some of the stories are so powerful that reading them is like getting pummeled by a brass-knuckled fist.
“Chocolate Park” was an intense and unforgettable read, chronicling the lives of three sisters who are trying to survive after the death of their mother. 18-year old Ebony, who has a job at the phone company, is trying her best to keep the family together but her older sister Coco – whose crack addiction has led her into prostitution – has stolen drugs from a local dealer named Torch and has put her youngest sister Sable, a studious 14-year old with aspirations to be a doctor, in grave danger. The events that transpire are completely unforeseen and utterly horrific. To paraphrase Lady Black, an elderly black magic practitioner who lived in the same building as the sisters: Sometimes debts have to be repaid.
Another favorite was “Walter and the Three-Legged King,” about a black guy who, after losing his job as a factory foreman, struggles mightily to find employment in the “godforsaken city.” After his unemployment runs out, he finds himself in danger of losing his apartment – but an ongoing war with a rat that calls himself King gives Walter unlikely enlightenment. All he has to do is play white. Here's an excerpt:
Walter had always thought that the pie was big enough to go around for everyone. Everyone had the same chance to claw his way to the American Dream, right? After all, he had been born a poor black boy in the south, but he had made it to factory foreman within ten years. All because he worked hard and fought, right? But it hadn’t taken much for all that to crumble. In fact, in Walter’s view, the very idea of fighting to the top meant that you had to fight others to get there. Or worse, that you had to leave people behind on your way.
King stared at him, his rat eyes wide. He seemed to be waiting for Walter to come to some kind of realization. Acquiesce, as the rat had put it. Acquiesce.
“So, you wanna play, then?” The rat paused, gave him time to think. “I’ll start. Well, sir, I do declare, it is a very fine evening we are having, wouldn’t you say? The weather is quite marvelous.”
Walter stared at King and said nothing. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. Acquiesce, huh? He couldn’t see the harm in it. What the hell. He didn’t care anymore. Walter put on his most well-refined white voice, the one he used for interviews, and responded. “Indeed it is, sir. A lovely evening.”
“And how’s life treating you, sir?”
“Can’t complain.”
The (thematic) hits just keep coming in this collection. “I Make People Do Bad Things” was a downright creepy story revolving around a girl nicknamed Shiv, a nine-year old with unfathomably dark powers who lives with her mother in a brothel in Harlem and becomes entangled in a bloody turf war. “The Unremembered” follows a 12-year old girl afflicted with an autistic-like ailment who, while she is lost inside of her own mind, remembers all of the unremembered from generations past.
“The slavery, my dear, was not the most difficult part; no, the hard part was the loss. The loss of everything past, present and future. To take away one’s past is to deny them a future...”
Chesya Burke’s writing style is just mesmerizing – there is an undeniable lyricism there but also a tangible darkness and pain. Readers who enjoy their fantasy decidedly dark and deep should check out this profoundly moving collection asap.
Paul Goat Allen has been a full-time book reviewer specializing in genre fiction for the last two decades and has written thousands of reviews for companies like Publishers Weekly, The Chicago Tribune, Kirkus Reviews, and BarnesandNoble.com. He is a member of the National Book Critics Circle.
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