The Reformatory

Summer is fully upon us. Gross. And while we might be counting the days to crispy Fall weather, we cannot deny that it is, in fact, ninety degrees outside. So, why not embrace it with a book truly worthy of a Summer-ween binge read? Because we are horror fans, a beach babe meet-cute isn’t going to cut it for us.

How about a horror novel about ghosts, racism, and monsters in the shape of men? How about if this was all set under the blazing June heat of Florida in 1950? I am talking, of course, about the astounding novel The Reformatory by Tananarive Due.

Published on October 31st of 2023 (fitting), The Reformatory is about a boy named Robert Stephens. He and his sister, Gloria, are living alone after their mother died and their father was run out of town for stirring up Union sympathies. Of course, the claim was that he’d molested a white woman. That claim is pretty commonly understood to be false as hell.

That doesn’t stop the town from heaping hate upon his children, left to fend for themselves.

Then, the son of a wealthy white man puts his hands on Gloria. Robert defends her and is sent to a reformatory for six months. All of this would be horrific enough. But it’s made worse by the fact that Robert can see haints. And the Gracetown School for Boys is full of them. Each one there because of a violent death that should never have been inflicted on a child.

Gloria calls in every favor and pleads with anyone who’ll listen to help save her brother. Her own gift, an ability to read the future of people she meets, is both an aid and a hindrance in her quest. She’s right to worry, though, as Robert is in danger from both the living and the dead.

The Reformatory is dripping in Southern Summer Heat in the worst way possible. I’ve been reading this book during the heat wave we’ve all been experiencing this past week. But I swear, if I’d have read it in January, I’d have felt the heat just as much. It’s a constant heavy wet blanket that makes everything just that much worse, and is described in tiny but powerful details. Reading this, you can feel the fear of a child in a new and scary place, trying to hide under a thin blanket that is still too hot for the sweltering night. You can feel beads of sweat rolling down skin and into seared open wounds. You can feel the sun pelting down on the heads of boys forced to do work in open fields without any consideration for their lives. It’s an oppressive experience.

The thing that really got me about The Reformatory, though, is the fact that it’s historical fiction. The haints are fiction. The reformatory itself isn’t. This book was inspired by the actual loss of Due’s great uncle, Robert Stephens. He was sent to the Dozier School for Boys in 1937. He never made it home.

The beatings are real. The racism is real. The abuse of every damned flavor is real. When Gloria is nearly assaulted multiple times, that’s real. That’s how life was in the South. This is something that I logically know. But I know it in the only way a white woman living in a Northern state in 2026 can know it, which is to say distantly.

This is one of the many reasons why historical fiction is so important. Because, like most fiction, it uses a fake story to tell real truths. We can look at the Jim Crow era in the South in facts and figures. It’s another thing to experience it through the eyes of children. And that’s what good fiction does. It allows, or in some cases forces, us to experience a life we’ll never live. Hopefully, it encourages us to fight to make sure we never go back to that world.

The Reformatory was, in the end, a magnificent read. It’s terrifying, and made me want to go fight someone. But it’s also funny, heartwarming, and scary as hell. If you haven’t read it yet, go read it right now. You won’t regret it.

If you want another Summer-ween book recommendation, check out my review of I Know A Place.