Model Home by Rivers Solomon

I haven’t heard from my real mother in months, not since an email she sent last October asking to talk, but Nightmare Mother, Ghost Mother - always there in Mama’s absence - texts me now. Children, the message reads, I miss your screams. Come play.

Never satisfied bringing ruin once or even twice, Nightmare Mother sends the message several more times. The text bubbles stack on top of the next like blocks in a toddler’s tower.

After vomiting, I upload a screencap of Nightmare Mother’s threat to my and my sisters’ group chat.

What tf am I looking at, asks Eve.

These texts just got sent to me from Mama’s number.

Okay. But Mama didn’t send those, says Emmanuelle.

I know.

Neither of my sisters says anything more. I shove my phone in my pocket, and the tiny hole in my joggers becomes a big hole. My sisters and I speak daily - we are close - but it’s a closeness that dissolves quickly into loathing on my part.

I don’t tend to read reviews of horror books before reading them (and yet here I am writing one), largely because a) I don’t want to be told its the scariest most troubling book ever and find out its fairly basic stuff, which ruins my day the same as a stand up comedian that isn’t funny; and b) when books are purported to be a mindfuck or have unexpected twists and turns its nice to be surprised. Having said that, I wish I’d read a few more reviews of Model Home before picking it up because I went in with all the wrong preconceptions.

Model Home is the fifth book by Rivers Solomon, an American non-binary author of speculative and literary fiction who describes themselves as ‘a refugee of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade.’ I went in completely blind to this book, having been drawn in by one of those instagram spooky horror recommendations that my algorithm insists on throwing my way. The cover certainly sealed the deal, and I am unfortunately someone who very much judges a book by their cover (as must publishers because why else go to an effort to make enticing designs). Before getting into the book itself I’d like to take a moment to raise a glass to ceara elliot, who’s designed a cover that both evokes that sort of blocky 1970’s cool while also feeling quite modern.

The book itself follows the story of Ezri, their siblings Eve and Emmanuel, and their daughter Elijah. Ezri and Elija travel home after family become concerned that nobody has heard from their parents, who still live in their childhood home in a gated community in Dallas, Texas. Their parents are found dead in the back garden, in what was assumed to be a murder/suicide. The children feel differently though, and are forced to reckon with their difficult, traumatic childhoods to try and unpack what actually happened to their parents.

Model Home can be summarised as a meditation on how people deal with severe trauma. I had inklings of where the plot was going to go, but have to say it became somewhat irrelevant roughly halfway through, even with satisfactory explanations (and probably one of the few scenes of what someone might traditionally consider ‘horror’) by the book’s end. The book is more about how emotionally damaged people try to recover, and try to avoid letting similar traumas happen to the next generation. In that sense I think it’s a really effective journey, and certainly by the end all of the earlier events, flashbacks and recriminations made sense.

I was to an extent reading this on a back foot, as I was definitely expecting more of a psychological thriller, haunted house, spirits and dark forces, inexplicable malevolence, etc. but in truth the dark forces are real, relatable, almost more the world of a social worker or a psychologist than a parapsychologist. So on reading the first two thirds or so I probably didn’t get as invested in the book as I could largely because I thought I was reading a different kind of book. I usually try and avoid books that focus on trauma and difficult childhoods, I don’t find the experience of exploring this in a fictional sense particularly cathartic or enjoyable.

All that being said, Rivers Solomon does an excellent job of portraying very imperfect characters. Arguments are frequent, warning signs are swept under, vulnerable people are ignored until its too late. I had a lot of empathy for the children of Mama and Pop, (as they are referred to). Seemingly all of the children and grandchildren have names beginning with E, which is explained in the novel, but does make it quite difficult to follow. I really related to Ezri’s struggle to transcend her experiences and to avoid another cycle of suffering for Elijah, and again it resonated that such as struggle was fraught with obstacles and falls. Some parts felt a little bit over egged - Ezri is at pains to list all of her mental health and personality disorder diagnoses - it felt a bit showy and I would rather have seen such descriptors come out another way.

Model Home’s other theme, which really sits in the background like the darkest of shadows, is the racism that Ezri’s family faced for decades. They were the only black family in a gated Texas community, privately educated and determined to show that they belonged there as much as the white families. The racism they experienced was low volume, oppressive, coercive and incredibly cruel, and without spoiling anything it became the entire axle on which the family’s trauma cartwheels span.

The end of Model Home is incredibly effective at bringing together the previous 250 pages, explaining pretty much all the strange goings on, the evil entity of Night Mother and in the process making Ezri so much more of an empathetic character.

Although I found it a difficult read at times, it sends an important message about the importance of kindness, and never truly understanding what other people have been through.

Model Home is available in hardback from all good booksellers, including Pages of Hackney Please buy books from independent shops as much as you can!