Dèy
-
- Pre-Order
-
- Expected 25 Aug 2026
-
- 99,00 kr
Publisher Description
'Is home the place where we are born? Or is it the place where we die?'
These questions haunt Magnolia, a successful Haitian American real estate agent in Miami, after she hears the terrifying sounds of gunfire while shopping for her daughter's birthday gift.
Once she's safely home, Magnolia hides the fact that she was at the mall shooting from everyone close to her. But given her life back, she begins to see it all clearly, and as if for the first time - the extraordinary bond she has with her teenage daughter, Zoë; the nearly broken relationship she has with her partner, Harrison; the ghost-haunted mind of her mentally unwell mother; her father's immense pain and his reason for seeking solace in the arms of a mistress. As Magnolia struggles through the labyrinth of her past, she must also come to terms with the losses sustained that traumatic day.
Taking as its title the Haitian Kreyòl word for mourning, Dèy celebrates the complexity of life in a brave and striking novel that is one of Danticat's most powerful and deeply affecting works yet.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
A Haitian American woman reckons with the cost of hiding her pain in this illuminating novel from Danticat, winner of the NBCC award for Everything Inside. Magnolia, a Miami real estate agent, is shopping for her daughter Zöe's 10th birthday when a gunman opens fire in the mall's food court. She takes cover and survives the episode but, for reasons she can't articulate even to herself, doesn't mention her involvement to anyone. She suppresses her trauma response and her private fascination with the victims, including a Haitian immigrant like her parents, and goes about her business, planning Zöe's birthday party, closing a real estate deal, and preparing to host her parents and younger half brother. Life in Haiti, where her parents repatriated after raising Magnolia in Brooklyn, has grown increasingly dangerous, and they've surrendered their family home to corrupt politicians and the gangs protecting them. The dread of encroaching violence runs through Magnolia's first-person narration, as does the subject of home: she worries that her job as a realtor is contributing to Miami's gentrification, and faces uncertainty over living apart from Zöe's father during a trial separation and where her aging parents will go. Arranging the narrative into sections titled after shelter-in-place instructions ("Run," "Hide," and "F(l)ight," followed by a final section titled "Dèy," the Haitian Creole word for mourning), Danticat delivers a resounding testament to the strength gained by sharing, whether in celebration, fear, grief, or family memories. This delicate and wonderful novel draws beauty from heartache.
