This book took my breath away. In the 1830s, a mysterious woman named Saint uses magic to free enslaved people and help them build a magically hidden town near St. Louis named Ours. An award-winning poet, Williams sets out to tell the story of a whole community: The narration spans decades and veers from omniscient to deeply immersed. The prose alternates between achingly poetic and crisply formal.
“Ours” is deeply, beautifully weird — not just because of dreamy mysticism but because its characters follow the logic of deep trauma. Many formerly enslaved characters have chosen new names for themselves, like Honor or King, but one of the most moving moments in the book comes when a formerly enslaved man, now dying, learns his true, African name. Williams writes about “the tricky nature of names and their power to circle back through time even when memory or the mouth fails.” And he finds new ways to ask age-old questions: How do we have both safety and freedom? What makes a ragtag group into a community? And most important, how do we find the missing parts of ourselves in other people?