During a discussion of my own novel, These Ghosts Are Family, at a private book club, a group of Caribbean women told me that the one aspect of the story — which teems with the supernatural — that they’d found the most unbelievable was when a character dies and has his identity stolen because he has no family except for an aging grandmother to come looking for him. 'That would never happen in the Caribbean,' one participant said. 'He would have cousins, he would have neighbors, uncles — he would have aunties!' The Commonwealth Prize-winning, Jamaican-born author Alecia McKenzie’s tender new novel — an emotionally resonant ode to adopted families and community resilience — fills this gap. A Million Aunties is a polyphonic narrative with a cast of characters who have experienced betrayal, disaster and loss at different stages of life ... although some story lines are left unresolved, the author seems less interested in how the characters tie up their conflicts and more in exploring how not just family but community can be our saving grace in our darkest moments. McKenzie’s message is clear: There is power in us simply showing up for one another.

As the story meanders from Firenze, Alabama, to New York City and Jamaica to Paris, it is filled with characters who become a global family for American-born artist Chris, who travels to Jamaica, his mother’s island, to quietly paint and mourn for his wife. McKenzie uses multiple points of view to portray a strong cast of characters ... The writing is evocative, capturing vivid details in descriptions of a ride on a new highway to Kaya Bay and Chris’s feelings when he sees Monet’s Camille sur son lit de mort, scenes finely balanced, with brisk storytelling that makes each character’s experiences engrossing.

Have you ever not wanted a book to end? Were disappointed that the characters are gone from your life? A Million Aunties by Alecia McKenzie is one such novel that makes you yearn for more. Its brilliantly developed characters linger after the story has ended and you wonder how the artists, widowers, adopted and biological sons and aunties are managing. You want to sit with them at the kitchen table, eating fried dumplings and slices of plantain and sipping mint tea or coconut water, and listen to their stories of loss and hope. Get to know them better. Sadness and all ... short yet powerful ... McKenzie creates memories that float like petals in the wind or smash like hard waves against a shore. From Jamaica to America to France ... McKenzie has crafted captivating characters and chapters that hold your attention and with each turn of the page you want to learn more ... Throughout the novel, McKenzie gracefully tackles tough topics such as racism and violence against women ... Despite the novel’s strengths, sometimes it feels like there is too much going on, and this causes the story to lose focus ... Yet the solid character development and brave writing bring you back, and you can’t help but wonder what will happen next in this multilayered and relevant narrative.

Jamaican writer McKenzie’s thoroughly satisfying novel (after Sweetheart) explores a Jamaican American artist’s grief after losing his wife in a New York City terrorist attack ... Many characters and plot threads overlap, and McKenzie juggles them with aplomb, making Stephen the connector as aspects of Chris’s artist life, Jamaican heritage, and relationship with his in-laws increasingly run together. McKenzie’s prose enlivens the Jamaican scenery ... she seamlessly blends the Jamaican characters’ patois in first-person chapters alternating with Chris’s narrative. This bighearted narrative of love, loss, and family is handled with grace and beauty.

McKenzie tries to create a vibrant community of people who are tied together by love for their motherland, but the characters are so paper-thin, their motivations so cloudy, that the entire story begins to turn to mush. At first blush it appears that the mystery behind Lidia’s sudden death might serve to anchor the novel, but that arc too eventually disappears into thin air. A drive-by snapshot of characters’ lives.