[This is an excerpt from my review on Necessary Fiction 11/3/14. Read the entire review here.]
At just under 250 pages, Rainey Royal is an intense and at
times disturbing story about a girl growing up in New York during the
1970s and ’80s. Her father, a famous jazz musician, allows his groupies
the run of their brownstone, leaving Rainey constantly fighting for
privacy and some degree of normalcy. Casual sex and permeable boundaries
are the hallmarks of her home life. When the novel opens, her mother
has been gone already a few years, having taken off to pursue her own
vague dreams. Rainey, then, is left with a father who toys with her
psychologically and emotionally and leaves her vulnerable to the
advances of some of his more sketchy groupies.
The disorder in her home pushes Rainey to try to control her life at
school. She’s the girl who makes other girls eat cigarettes and lick
unknown substances; she, along with her best friend Tina, causes male
teachers to squirm by making suggestive gestures; she uses her body and
brittle fake-confidence to make shyer girls cower in corners. And yet,
she ultimately must go home each day to Howard Royal and his
free-wheeling musician friends, acolytes, and lovers.
[...]
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