The Reformatory by Tananarive Due

Rating: 5 of 5 stars 

Pages: 576 pages
Published: October 2023

My final review of 2025 features a horror-meets-historical fiction masterpiece by Tananarive Due. The Reformatory is one of those novels that lingers long after you've finished its nearly 600-pages; not because of goblins and ghosts but because of the very real history it resurrects. Inspired by the notorious Dozier School for Boys in Florida, which claimed to rehabilitate young boys for decades, this novel exposes the brutality of such institutions. 

Set in Jim Crow-era Florida in the fictional Gracetown, the story's inciting incident happens very early in the book when young, 12-year old Robbie Stephens, Jr. finds himself unjustly punished for simply trying to protect his older sister from the unwanted advances of a local white boy. For this, he is sentenced to six months at Gracetown School for Boys. What follows is a chilling blend of historical fiction and supernatural horror that exposes the extreme violence embedded in U.S. correctional institutions and the resilience required to survive them. 

Some common themes that spoke to me upon completing the book included epigenetics, horror through different perspectives, and the power of storytelling. 

Epigenetics is the study of how experiences can influence gene expression without altering DNA. It's controversial, but at face value, I believe it holds merit. Specifically, in this novel, we see how trauma echos across generations. This story is an illustration of how the body and spirit remember what the world tries to erase. The long lineage of cruelty Black people have faced at the hands of white people (e.g., Stephens vs. McCormacks and Robbie vs. Haddock) is woven throughout the book. That's the hard part the author carefully cultivates. Yet alongside that is the inherited perseverance and will to survive injustice that becomes its own kind of ancestral memory.

The novel also challenges the idea that horror is a universal experience. For many, horror conjures images of ghosts and goblins. In more recent mainstream culture, it's films like Scream, What Lies Beneath or Nightmare on Elm Street, where the supernatural is cause for fear. For Black people, horror often looks like everyday life: getting pulled over by the police, simply walking down the street or listening to music "too loudly", or monitoring language in corporate America so as not to be labeled as aggressive. It's systemic injustice, unchecked power, and the way institutions have long abused Black bodies. Due's intentional duality of this concept challenges the reader to reconsider the definition of fear. (There is a scene in the book where a character and her aunt get pulled over by the police, and my blood pressure literally spiked wile reading this fictional account because I've experienced it in reality.) 

And that's the brilliance of Due's writing. It's vivid, descriptive, and incredibly accessible, which makes the subject matter even more devastating. She paints scenes with such clarity that you feel the heat, the fear, the claustrophobia. Her craft creates emotional resonance. While her writing is excellent, the subject matter is not. It's intentionally difficult provoking deep thoughts among its audience. 

Recommendation: This was my first read by Due, and I know it won't be my last. The only thing I might change in the future is to avoid reading something like this during the holiday season. The author's storytelling is masterful, and her themes are deeply resonant. While her subject matter is painful, she takes care of the reader by offering a hopeful conclusion. This narrative was one I felt honored, not burdened, to consume. 

Until next time ... Read on!

Regardless of whether I purchase a book, borrow a book, or receive a book in exchange for review, my ultimate goal is to be honest, fair, and constructive. I hope you've found this review helpful.