39. Heaven, My Home, Attica Locke
This was fabulous. A young boy goes missing in rural Texas; the 9-year-old son of white supremacists. Texas Ranger Darren Matthews is sent out to join the local police, as his team in Houston are investigating hate groups and hope they might pick up some evidence. Darren is black, Trump has just been elected into the White House and the whole area is seething with suspicion and potential racial violence.
There are so many layers here which make it a great read. Darren himself, who is a typical flawed noir detective (drinking problem, rocky marriage), but who brings his own racial prejudices into the mix. The nasty small-town atmosphere, the politics, the history with its ghost stories of escaped slaves and boats going missing in the local swamps. Locke paints this world beautifully, pulling in music and food and avoiding cliché to twist the reader's sympathies and suspicions despite the presence of an very obvious "baddie".
There's a lovely review in the Guardian which sums up how much Locke has packed into her story:
It is buttressed by passages of gorgeous lyricism, with loving, elegiac evocations of Texas set alongside extended meditations on displacement, reconciliation and forgiveness, and on what “home” means in a place where it’s an idea you can’t “exactly touch”. In some scenes there’s an old African American spiritual playing in the background, an anthem of resistance from which the novel takes its name: “I make heaven my home, I shall not be moved.” Locke suggests that being black in America has meant a constant, disorienting search for terra firma, fighting to claim some piece of the “fields and prairies that we once tilled until our backs broke and bled”, and that this feeling has returned with terrible urgency, or perhaps that it never left.