Heavy-handed, but necessary: my review of Chain-Gang All-Stars

The messaging in this book is heavy-handed, but it's not an accident. It's not like the author is trying to be subtle. Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah creates a caricature of the US, demonstrating the logical conclusion of all its broken systems, in order to draw attention to the dangerous, racist, and exploitative nature of the justice system. There's also heavy critiques of the weapons, surveillance, sports, entertainment, and advertising industries. The plot largely follows a group of convicts who are forced into gladiator fights for the benefit of television audiences. Some Americans protest, but most tune in.

If you don't find it realistic, just remember that in real life, very few people are meaningfully bothered by the fact that the NFL can be framed as an event to watch men (most of whom are POC) get paid a million dollars to undergo permanent brain damage. Don't even get me started on horse racing, figure skating, boxing, and a bunch of other sports that raise serious ethical questions at the elite levels. It's very easy to become complicit. It's very easy to normalize exploitation. If it worked in Rome, it can work in the United States.

Also keep in mind that the gladiatorial prison fights aren't just meant to entertain fictional Americans in the story. They are also meant to entertain readers. Adjei-Brenyah takes a page out of Suzanne Collins's book here to implicate his own readers. Traumatic blood sport might be disturbing, but there's also something captivating about being disturbed. No matter how hard we try, we can't stop ourselves from rubbernecking. Most of us might not even bother to try doing otherwise. It might not even occur to us to look away, and Adjei-Brenyah doesn't want us to. He wants readers to stare America in the face, zoom in on all the ugliness, and realize that things don't have to be this way. Sprinkled into the narrative are pieces of both real and invented history. It's sometimes hard to tell the difference between the two, reminding readers how eerily similar reality is for some people to a typical fictional dystopia.

At the center of the story are Loretta Thurwar and Hamara Stacker, two Black women, lovers, and the most celebrated fighters in the gladiator circuit. They must navigate survival, loyalty, and the brutal machinery of a carceral state that repeatedly forces them to make impossible decisions. Most of the plot is a bit unwieldy and frenetic, but the love story between the two fighters is what keeps things engaging enough for the book to get its point across.

That point can feel preachy at times, but Adjei-Brenyah isn't exactly wrong about what he's preaching. While some may prefer subtler books where the metaphors and symbols speak for themselves, it's understandable why Adjei-Brenyah has decided against writing that kind of story. If the reality of a private prison could speak for itself, then it would have already done so, and the system would have been abolished. If all previous dystopian novels could have gotten their points across with subtle messaging, then Parable of the Sower and The Handmaid's Tale wouldn't have predicted the future; they would have managed to warn against it. Chain-Gang All-Stars might not be written for people who already know that the system is broken, but it's as good a way as any to raise awareness for those who still have more to learn. It's as good a way as any to keep conversations about incarceration and racism alive and relevant.