⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5/5
Wow… I was not expecting this book to unpack as much as it did.
We Don’t Talk About Carol dives into so many issues within the Black community—from the lack of attention given to missing Black girls to the “what happens in this house, stays in this house” mentality. One old photograph unravels years of secrets, lies, and buried truths. I thought I knew where this story was going, but the multiple twists had me completely wrong.
It’s hard to say too much without spoiling it, but the story follows Sydney, who returns to her grandmother’s home in North Carolina after her passing to prepare it for sale. While sorting through the house, she discovers a photograph of a woman who looks just like her. That discovery leads her down a rabbit hole surrounding the disappearance of six Black girls in the 1960s. Meanwhile, Sydney is balancing life in Los Angeles with her husband while going through her fourth round of IVF, which adds another emotional layer to the story.
My only reason for not giving it a full 5 stars is that I wanted more explanation about why Sydney’s father turned out the way he did—it felt like there was a missing piece. I also would’ve loved more backstory on her grandmother because she was such an interesting character.
Favorites quote “Retreating may deescalate a conflict, but if the issue is never addressed, it leaves no room for true resolution.”
Overall, this was a powerful, emotional, and thought-provoking read. If you enjoy mystery thrillers mixed with family secrets and historical fiction, I’d definitely recommend adding this one to your TBR. 📚✨
Reading We Don’t Talk About Carol opened my eyes to several important issues that are often overlooked, especially within the Black community. One aspect that resonated deeply was the unspoken code of silence that can exist within families and communities—the idea that "what happens in this house, stays in this house." This mentality can sometimes prevent critical conversations about difficult topics, such as missing persons cases or hidden family traumas. The novel’s focus on the disappearance of six Black girls in the 1960s sheds light on how systemic neglect and societal indifference exacerbate such tragedies. What struck me personally was how the story intertwines Sydney’s present-day struggles, including navigating IVF treatments, with the painful discovery of her family’s hidden past. It felt very authentic and reminded me of how personal challenges often run parallel to historical or communal ones. The emotional complexity added by Sydney’s family dynamics, including the ambiguous character of her father and the influential grandmother figure, made the narrative even more engaging, though I also wished for more backstory on them. The novel also made me reflect on how photographs and old artifacts can unlock buried memories, secrets, and history—prompting a deeper investigation into ourselves and our heritage. It parallels how many families might have unanswered questions or lost stories waiting to be uncovered. This book encouraged me to think about the importance of not only preserving family history but also facing uncomfortable truths to heal and grow. If you’re someone who enjoys stories that mix mystery, historical fiction, and social commentary within family settings, this book is worth considering. It’s not just a thrilling read but also a powerful reminder of the value of addressing conflict rather than retreating from it—something the favorite quote from the book perfectly captures: "Retreating may deescalate a conflict, but if the issue is never addressed, it leaves no room for true resolution." This theme is universal and applicable beyond the book, making the story linger in your mind long after you finish reading.
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