This is another one of those “See that cover? Go buy this book” types of reviews. Because … damn.

They say that authors nowadays need a social media presence in order to sell any books, and, well, I’m only aware of Blood at the Root because the TikTok algorithm put Ladarrion Williams in front of my face over and over again until I caved and ordered his book. And Williams is refreshingly direct about why he wrote this book: there aren’t enough Black boys in fantasy books, and so he wrote a fantasy book with a Black boy as the main character. Or, a Black young man at least, as Malik is 17 at the beginning of the book. Which, come to think of it, I don’t remember him having a birthday during the book, so he’s an awfully young college freshman, but I think he mentioned finishing school early at some point, so it’s probably fine.

I am certain that I’m not the first person to describe Blood at the Root as “Harry Potter at an HBCU.” In fact, I’m pretty sure the author himself has used that formulation. And, honestly, for the first half of the book or so, it’s a little bit too much Harry Potter at an HBCU, to be honest with you. You will literally be going through this book saying “Okay, here’s Hermione, and this guy is probably Draco, and that guy is definitely Snape, and oh! look! Death Eaters!” and so on and so forth. The first half is very, very tropey, in a way that I was willing to let slide because 1) the book is YA and 2) the actual intended market of the book is Black boys who don’t read much, so, y’know, the repeated tropes from other books that they haven’t read isn’t going to bother them, right? But it’s definitely there and it would be kind of ridiculous to not take note of it.(*)

That said, Harry Potter at an HBCU in Louisiana with a Black male lead is going to be pretty distinct from the Daniel Radcliffe books no matter how much it borrows, and the freshness of Williams’ Afro-Haitian mix of magics and characters is enough to carry you through the first half. Malik himself is a great character; I recognize this kid, and I’ve had to teach him math in the past, and his relationships with the other characters in the book, particularly his younger foster brother Taye and his childhood friend Alexis are tremendously well-drawn.

And then that second half hits, and you discover that all that emotional investment in the characters is about to be used against you, and the number of twists and turns and betrayals is head-spinning. Like, I don’t cry when reading books, and to a large extent I don’t understand people who claim that books make them cry all the time, but if I was a crier this one would have gotten me at at least two or three entirely distinct points.

The book definitely has some weak points, and there are bits and bobs here and there where you can tell it’s a debut novel, but it ends so well that I can’t help but strongly recommend it. I’m not sure when the sequel comes out, but I’m sure TikTok will let me know, and I’ll have it on day one. Check it out.

(*) Not that I think anyone’s going to call me out on it, but I want to point out that all of the punctuation in that sentence is exactly where I want it to be. “Black boys who don’t read much” and not “Black boys, who don’t read much”. Thank you.