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• Honeysuckle and Bone Zando/Sweet July Books (New York, NY), 2025

• Trisha Tobias website - https://www.trishatobiaswrites.com

  Trisha Tobias is the author of her young adult debut Honeysuckle and Bone (Zando Young Readers/Simon & Schuster UK YA). She is a 2019-2021 Highlights Foundation Diversity Fellow and a recipient of the 2018 Walter Dean Myers Grant. She has also volunteered as a 2018 Pitch Wars mentor. Trisha holds a BA in Media and Communication Studies from Fordham University. She crafts stories that illuminate the beauty within darkness, weaving meaningful tales with edge.

  In her down time, Trisha can be found vibing to K-Pop and showtunes, shuffling tarot cards, and perfecting her skincare routine.

  Trisha is based in North Carolina.

• Angelella Editorial - https://www.angelellaeditorial.com/trisha-tobias

  More About Trisha…
  Trisha Tobias (she/her) is an associate developmental editor at YA book packager Dovetail Fiction and a 2019-2021 Highlights Foundation Diversity Fellow. Previously, she has been an associate fiction editor for FORESHADOW: A Serial YA Anthology, a 2018 Walter Dean Myers Grant recipient, a YA editorial intern at Page Street Publishing, and a Pitch Wars mentor.

  She holds a BA in Media and Communications Studies with a minor in Creative Writing from Fordham University. Since 2016, Trisha has been freelance editing young adult and new adult manuscripts, working collaboratively with writers to bring out the best in their work.

  Offline, Trisha can be found listening to plenty of K-Pop, reading too many self-help books, and inspecting everyone’s natal charts.

  Trisha is available for authenticity reads regarding Black/African American women, anxiety, depression, restrictive eating disorders, interracial relationships (Black/white), and sexual assault. She is not the right editor for horror, historical fiction, superhero stories, extreme gore, or sports-centric narratives.

  Services Offered:
  Editorial Assessment
  Authenticity Reading

  Preferred Age Level & Genre of Expertise:
  Young Adult and New Adult in the following genres: contemporary/realistic (dark & messy more than light & humorous), science fiction (“soft” sci-fi & near-future sci-fi), fantasy (urban/contemporary fantasy, high fantasy, & quest-centered fantasy), and thriller/mystery. She also enjoys romance and queer protagonists across genres.

• CrimeReads - https://crimereads.com/when-the-dead-return-on-jamaicas-duppies/

  When the Dead Return: On Jamaica's Duppies
  Trisha Tobias considers the comfort of vengeful spirits in the context of historical injustice
  January 31, 2025 By Trisha Tobias
  Via Sweet July

  One of the most popular ghosts in Jamaican folklore is the White Witch of Rose Hall. According to the lore, Annie Palmer, the aforementioned “White Witch,” is said to have been a cruel mistress on a plantation. The stories claim that she tormented her husbands and her male slaves and practiced some form of “dark magic.” Her reign of terror allegedly ended after one of her former slaves murdered her. But soon after her death, she began to make terrible, haunting appearances to all who visited the property.

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  You can travel to Rose Hall in Montego Bay in hopes of running into Annie Palmer’s unsettling presence. But even if you don’t, other features of the house might still give you a fright. Some visitors report being shoved by invisible hands. Objects disappear and reappear. Footsteps echo through empty halls. Tour guides will probably tell you that these happenings are evidence of duppies—spirits. And at Rose Hall, they’re likely the ghosts of the enslaved, refusing to fade into history without their stories being told.

  In Honeysuckle and Bone, eighteen year old Jamaican American Carina travels to Jamaica to work as an au pair for a wealthy political family. She expects some culture shock, a smidgen of homesickness, and maybe a few sleepless nights. What she doesn’t expect is to be stalked by an increasingly aggressive duppy, and for reasons she can only speculate. While Carina faces a more personal haunting in modern-day Jamaica, she discovers what locals have known for centuries: some spirits refuse to rest until justice is served.

  As I wrote my debut novel Honeysuckle and Bone, I was curious about how Jamaican duppies differ from the ghosts we engage with in Western media—think the US, Canada, and Europe. Because there’s such a broad and rich folklore in Jamaica, in many cases, duppies and Western-type ghosts aren’t that different. Like more familiar-to-the-West ghosts, duppies can be helpful or threatening, or they might be completely disinterested in human affairs. But to me, the real difference comes from the way different cultures view and interact with these specters. Western media seems to walk the line of fearing ghosts while also being intrigued and even entertained by their presence. In Jamaica, the culture might lean more into respect and, at times, genuine fear.

  But to understand the duppy’s position in today’s Jamaica, we have to step back to where the myth around these spirits originated: African spirituality. Note that much of what is known about the history of the duppy comes from oral tradition, creating a wide variance in what is considered “true” and how the lore behind this creature evolved. This deep-dive into the mythology, then, is a combination of well-documented history and personal speculation.

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  Most likely, the concept of the duppy came from African beliefs—likely Akan and/or Bantu—about humans possessing dual or multiple souls. In older Jamaican folklore, people were said to have two spirits. One was “good,” and at death, it ascended to a spiritual realm. The other was “bad,” and if proper rites were not held, that spirit could linger among the living and create chaos of all sorts.

  These beliefs traveled to North America during the slave trade, becoming part of the culture for many enslaved Africans. There’s some evidence in folklore studies that storytelling was a form of psychological resistance, helping enslaved individuals cope with their oppression. So it’s possible that during this time, the enslaved people of Jamaica developed the stories around their spiritual beliefs, which might have provided some comfort. While African slaves faced unimaginable horrors, perhaps their belief in the soul’s multiplicity evolved into the idea that after death, while one soul might leave and find peace, the other could become a duppy and persist to complete unfinished business or assert itself after an unjust death.

  One can then imagine that on Jamaica’s plantations, duppy stories had the potential to take on new power. Think of the popular tales that grew out of the centuries of subjugation. Instead of spirits merely taking human form, people spoke of duppies who looked like animals—like the myth of the dreaded Rollin’ (or Roaring) Calf, sporting fiery eyes and clinking metal chains. This creature offers a duppy figure who represents fear and retribution. The Calf is meant to be the twisted spirit of a person who was evil in life; in a world of daily mistreatment and abuse, then, why wouldn’t a being like this come to be?

  Consider also the legend of the three-foot horse and its rider, the whooping boy. Like the Rollin’ Calf, the three-foot horse (which has three legs) might be terrifying with its flaming gaze and deadly breath. But perhaps more horrifying is the holler of the whooping boy upon its back, who is said to have been the broken spirit of a young slave. Of course someone subjected to so much pain in life would become a menace after death.

  It’s plausible, then, that duppy stories developed as a way to imagine scenarios where cruel overseers and plantation owners actually had to acknowledge their crimes. Through that lens, duppy tales become more than ghost stories. They become a form of hope in a world where enslaved individuals were denied tangible justice.

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  But duppies were not only seen as supernatural weapons against oppressors. People needed protection from the duppies of others. Duppy catchers often used African spiritual practices to protect the living from these restless, vengeful spirits. They developed rituals to trap or banish these ghosts, and they figured out where duppies were strongest, like in cotton trees or at crossroads.

  When emancipation eventually came, duppy beliefs didn’t fade. Instead, they evolved to serve new purposes.

  Today’s Jamaica still bears the marks of centuries of belief in the duppy—namely, protecting oneself from them or keeping them in the realm of the dead. Lines of salt are laid to keep spirits away. Certain practices, like not announcing when you’re leaving a dead yard, or making sure your shoes face a certain way when you return home from one, are still followed by many today. In isolation, these can read as anxious superstition, funny practices persisting into a modern world. But zoomed out, these could be links to a history of resistance and survival.

  The dead yard or nine-night ceremony is perhaps the most well-known and enduring practice, even if it feels somewhat removed from its multi-soul origins. Traditionally, for nine nights after a person’s death, family and friends gather to celebrate and remember the deceased in order to ensure the spirit doesn’t become a lingering duppy. Before, this practice involved more praying and singing; today, there might be more eating, drinking, and dancing. In both cases, telling stories and remembering the lost loved one is important. Even now, people try to guide souls safely to rest in their own plane.

  But sometimes, even a fond remembrance and a grand party aren’t enough to soothe a slighted spirit.

  Younger people today might smile at their parents and grandparents’ duppy precautions. But even for supposed non-believers, these spirits maintain a significant presence. Maybe there are more mansions than great halls now, but in Honeysuckle and Bone, Carina discovers that whether she’s on a colonial plantation or inside a gated mansion, some spirits refuse to be ignored.

  Pop culture continues to pay homage to the duppy and its associated traditions. Authors weave them into their stories. Reggae and dancehall artists reference duppies in their lyrics. (Give Bob Marley’s “Duppy Conqueror” a listen.) And, of course, old traditions evolve to address modern-day fears and anxieties, the injustices of the now like police brutality or poverty. After all, the need for amends didn’t end with emancipation. The desire for hope and justice exist today. Only the means of oppression have changed face.

  The power of the duppy lies in more than its ability to frighten or terrorize. Ghosts have long been used to express universal thoughts about guilt, retribution, and the heaviness of the past on the present. When truth has struggled to be heard, these vengeful duppies that were birthed from African beliefs suggest that what’s buried has a way of rising to the surface.

  Jamaica’s ghosts remind us that the past and its truth can never be silenced. Not forever.

• American Booksellers Association website - https://www.bookweb.org/news/indies-introduce-qa-trisha-tobias-1631553

  Jan
  15
  2025
  Indies Introduce
  Indies Introduce Q&A with Trisha Tobias
  Printer-friendly versionPrinter-friendly version
  Trisha Tobias is the author of Honeysuckle and Bone, a Winter/Spring 2025 Indies Introduce young adult selection, and January/February 2025 Kids’ Indie Next List pick.

  Morgan Haywood-Joy of Greenlight Bookstore in Brooklyn, New York, served on the bookseller panel that selected Tobias’ book for Indies Introduce.

  “Don't let the duppy get you…Honeysuckle and Bone transports you to the canicular heat of Jamaica as the secrets heat up with each turning page,” said Haywood-Joy. “Tobias tactically uses this evocative horror to pay homage to the rich oral history that is Caribbean folklore. From the secrets to the lies, you’ll feel like our main character, Carina, eavesdropping behind every wall.”

  Tobias sat down with Haywood-Joy to discuss her debut title. This is a transcript of their discussion. You can listen to the interview on the ABA podcast, BookED.

  Morgan Haywood-Joy: Hello! I am Morgan Haywood-Joy. I work at Greenlight Bookstore, I am the HR manager. I'm here speaking with Tricia Tobias, yay! Trisha is an associate developmental editor at YA book packager Dovetail Fiction, a Highlights Foundation Diversity Fellow, and a Walter Dean Myers Grant recipient. She lives in Morganton, North Carolina.

  Trisha Tobias: Thank you so much!

  MHJ: First of all, I love this book so much. This is a great book.

  TT: Thank you.

  MHJ: I had so many questions afterwards. I was like, “Wait a minute, I can ask her these questions!”

  What was the inspiration behind this novel?

  TT: I started developing the concept for Honeysuckle and Bone as part of my editorial job. This was about a year after my father passed away, and I was feeling incredibly lost without him. It was really destabilizing, and I was looking for ways to ground myself. One of the ways I was doing that was by turning to my mother. We were talking a lot more. She is Jamaican, and I asked her to tell me all about her life as a child and as a teen growing up on the island. I was like, “Tell me all those stories again. Tell me about the culture again.”

  It all felt so foreign to me as a child — a very Americanized child — but it was so interesting to hear those stories again as an adult, at a time when I was really looking to connect. Through all of that discussion, I noticed the way that my mother and I were handling our grief differently. She was treating my father as if he were a duppy, a ghost, a spirit. She behaved as if his presence were still around the house, and I think that brought her a lot of comfort. It had me thinking about all of the duppy stories she used to tell me as a child. All of these things combined became a large part of what inspired the idea of having this ghost story set in Jamaica.

  MHJ: That's so awesome. What is your favorite duppy story?

  TT: I had to think about this one, but this is a somewhat personal one. My mom lost her father around age 12. When my grandfather passed away, he left behind a house full of sons and daughters, grandkids, and nieces and nephews. It was a full house, and some of those people were still babies. After he died, the babies would not stop crying. It was driving everyone bananas, and it was endless. Until my Grandma Doris figured out what the problem was.

  One day she walks into the nursery, the babies are screeching, and she says out loud, “Leave the children alone. You cannot care for them. It's time to stop.” All the babies finally stopped wailing, because Grandpa was still trying to help take care of the kids, even though he had passed on, and it was really freaking out the kids in the process. I can understand not wanting to be handled by a spirit — that must be kind of uncomfortable.

  So, with Grandma Doris’ blessing, he quit child-rearing. He's like, “Fine, I know when I'm not wanted.” He switched to protecting the family, and from what I have been told, he was kind of brutal, but very effective. I think it was a better job for him.

  MHJ: Okay. He assumed a better role.

  TT: Exactly!

  MHJ: I really loved how you spoke about the duppies because I feel like that's something we don't see often. There's not that many authors of Caribbean background getting their stories out there. So when I saw this one, it's giving me the same feel as Hurricane Child or Jumbies, especially for YA. We have that for adult fiction, but this is giving me “New Adult” fiction vibes.

  I just really enjoyed it, because I'm thinking, “Duppies? Okay!” My mom is from Grenada, so I was raised with the soucouyants and all the different jumbies that are out there.

  TT: Yes! You know!

  MHJ: I definitely asked my mom. I was like, “You have anything with honeysuckle?” She was like, “Ask your god mom.” Because my god mom is Jamaican, so I should ask her just to see what similarities there are, because so much of the Caribbean diaspora intersects. I keep on saying I loved it, but I did!

  TT: I love hearing that. I really appreciate it. Thank you.

  MHJ: How much of Carina is you? She speaks on the duality of her identity, or lack thereof, as it pertains to her Jamaican roots. Is that something you grappled with as well?

  TT: Yeah. There's definitely a lot of things that Carina and I do not have in common, but that question mark around identity is one of the things that we share. For me, as someone who was born in New York and grew up on Long Island, there was a lot of emphasis on the American part of my background, because that was largely the culture in which I was being raised. So the world, and the life, that my mom would describe to me over the years felt so separate from me as a suburban kid from Long Island. I just didn't relate.

  I thought it was really interesting. I thought it was cool that my mom was from another country. I would do school projects about Jamaica; if it's cultural exchange day, we're bringing the jerk chicken, because that's what they expect us to bring. But I didn't personally have a strong relationship with the country or the culture, and I didn't know how to have one. When your own blood is teasing you about how you don't belong, or you're not a very good Jamaican, you get a little embarrassed, a little ashamed about trying to engage with that culture.

  You think “maybe I should stay in my lane,” but it is my lane. That's the reality. That was the door I had to open for myself: that is my lane. Let's explore and see what this looks like for me. What is my relationship with the culture? And it will look different, because I am very Americanized, and that's okay. I speak for myself. I represent myself.

  Even in New York — where there's a very prominent Caribbean community — because I was spending most of my time in very white American spaces, it still felt like that aspect of my identity was not wholly accepted, because it was a little out of the norm. Not that anyone was rude about it, but you just feel a little bit out of step. It wasn't until I was an adult that I felt like I could explore that entire aspect of my identity. So that ongoing journey of understanding and defining for myself what being Jamaican American means, what it looks like, I felt that was a journey that Carina would definitely understand and could tell really well.

  MHJ: That's amazing. My mom being from Grenada, I was born here, but I remember hearing the stories and being around my cousins. There was a part in the book where Carina spoke briefly about trying on the accent and it didn't work out. When I was younger, I tried to do it, and I remember my mother and my brother laughing at me, and I was like, “Oh! Noted!”

  TT: Never again!

  MHJ: You know what, I still try. I commit. I committed to the bit!

  TT: You're better than me, because I'm like, “I do not like to try and fail, so let me step aside.”

  MHJ: It gets me where I have to go sometimes. Some people hear it and they're like, “Are you?” I'm like, “Yeah, I am.” But it definitely is that feeling of being othered and creating that own lane for yourself. I may be born in the States, but my family and my roots are still here. I still have that experience, because my mother decided to bring me into that experience. I think you said that so beautifully.

  I noticed that there were pockets of Patois littered sparingly throughout the novel. Was it a conscious choice to not go full throttle with this for your readers sake, or should you read it as Carina translating what and how she understands is “broken English”? I thought maybe it's because Carina does not understand it. Maybe that's why it wasn't in the book intentionally. Or maybe the readers think, “I can't pronounce this.”

  TT: I'm glad that you asked this question. I hadn't thought about it being interpreted that way. I definitely thought a lot about how to handle the use of Patois throughout the novel. I even talked to my mom about the pros and cons. Ultimately, I don't think there really would have been a wrong way to go about it, but I did feel like there would have been a wrong way for me to go about it. As someone who is as good at speaking Patois as Corina is — which is awful — I wanted to be mindful of how I was presenting the dialect. And accessibility for readers who aren't familiar with Patois was a big factor as well — balancing authenticity with readability.

  But, here was my thinking: I felt like I could lean on the fact that, for better or worse, many readers probably have an idea of what they think people who are from Jamaica sound like, and how they speak. So they're going to apply that rhythm, that melody, that cadence, to the characters’ voices in their own minds. I don't need to do that work for them. I can trust that on my end, less is more. If I leaned in more, then instead of feeling authentic, I worried it could sound mocking on the page. You can lose a lot when it's just text, and I don't ever want to present the language in a mocking manner. So I thought we can be a little bit more conservative and let the readers fill in certain things. Hopefully that worked.

  MHJ: I love how intentional you are about that. I was sitting here reading it, and I was just like, “Let me read this out loud.” I definitely put my accent on it, and I said, “Okay, I see it.” I do like that you didn't try to put so much accent on it, or so much Patois in it. Like you said, people can put their own voice on it as well. And then after talking about your accent, God forbid you have to read out loud somewhere!

  TT: Oh, let me not play myself!

  MHJ: Exactly, you saved yourself! I see what you did there. I like it. Very intentional.

  TT: Two steps ahead.

  MHJ: It also made me think of Maisy Card’s These Ghosts Are Family. It also takes place in Jamaica, and it's littered with Patois throughout. I'm just thinking about how intentional it is, and how it works for both of y'all. Her use of it works so well for her, because I believe she was born there. I'm not sure, and I don't want to misspeak. But I love how both y'all are just so intentional with it. I just think that's fire. That's it.

  Did you have an alternate ending in mind? If so, what was it? And what about this one made you feel most compelled to share with the world?

  TT: Okay, I have a question. Am I allowed to spoil things?

  MHJ: That's a great question.

  TT: I would like to answer the question without spoiling it. So without spoiling, I would say very early in the development process — before the book was written, before it was sold, when it had a different name entirely — there was definitely a different ending, because the presumed antagonists and villains were different from who they are now. The twist or twists hadn't been fully solidified yet. Once we decided what was actually going on, who the villains are, then the whole ending changed. The theme also changed, and so when we realized this is actually what Carina is trying to learn, that also shifted everything entirely.

  I had to really think about this though, because the current ending has been The One for so long that I forgot that there was ever another way to wrap this up. I went back through notes, and I was like, “Oh my gosh. What were we thinking?”

  MHJ: This ending? Loved it. I was like, “Don't let me down!” I was like, “Commit! Commit to the bit!” I was like, “Oh, she committed.” I'll just say, I did not see it coming. I said, “Oh, hold on now. This is crazy.” (In the best way.)

  TT: I'm happy to hear that this was appreciated.

  MHJ: Yeah, no, you did that. This is what I wanted. This is where I'm at. This is good. This is me also trying to be very vague as well.

  TT: I know! I read the question, and I'm like, “Oh, goodness. How do I answer this?”

  MHJ: Do you have a nickname? Because you spoke about the importance of nicknames. And I was like, “If this is not the most Caribbean thing I've ever seen.” Because, yes, I have gone to funerals, and I thought a person's name was one thing, and I found out it's another, and I'm just like, “Who are you?”

  The idea of nicknames, Scoob and Chicken, and some folks getting other nicknames. So, do you have a nickname that you don't mind sharing?

  TT: See, you knew the real question. You know, because there are those nicknames you're like, if you share this with anyone…

  MHJ: It's over.

  TT: We simply cannot recover from that. I have two answers. What I want to say is “probably not,” but if I do have one, then it's “Princess,” because my parents used that for me a lot, and it sort of filtered into the rest of the Jamaican side of the family. But honestly, it was a little judgy, but it is what it is. I understand. You don't choose the names.

  Both: The names choose you.

  MHJ: There we go. Yeah, God forbid you do something embarrassing. It's like, “Oh, that's the one.”

  TT: Yeah. As a child, I definitely had a reputation for being a bit prissy, a little spoiled. I like my things a certain way. And it didn't hurt my feelings. I kept thinking, “If you think I'm spoiled, you should talk to my parents about that.”

  MHJ: I'm not spoiled, I’m just high maintenance. I have standards.

  TT: I'm just here doing my thing. Yeah, maybe “Princess,” but honestly, probably not. I probably was saved from having a really embarrassing nickname.

  MHJ: Wonderful. “Princess” is a wonderful one. Don't worry, I'm not gonna call you that. I will be respectful and call you by your name.

  TT: I appreciate that.

  MHJ: That is amazing.

  TT: That was a fun one.

  MHJ: Thanks so much for joining me and sitting down with me and kee-keeing, you know, doing all the trainings. I can't wait for your book to hit shelves. Is there anything you want to say? Any final thoughts that you may have?

  TT: Thank you so much for sitting down and chatting with me. This whole experience has been just out of this world. It was so nice to talk about Honeysuckle and Bone with you. Also, thank you for listening to me babble on the phone when you called me to tell me about the Indies Introduce news. Not my best moment!

  MHJ: No, it was great. I loved it. I was sitting at my mom's kitchen table. I was like, “Mom, hold on, I gotta call this author.” And she heard you in the background, she's like, “Is she excited? Say it again! Is she excited?” I was like, “She is excited.” She's like, “This is the Jamaican one?” I say, “Yeah, this one!”

  TT: That’s so funny. No, I was very excited!

  MHJ: As you should be. One Caribbean makes it, we all root! So I'm so happy for you.

  TT: Thank you so much.

  MHJ: Of course, thank you so much.

• The Nerd Daily - https://thenerddaily.com/trisha-tobias-author-guest-post/

  Choosing Connection: The Power of Found Family in Stories and Beyond
  The Nerd Daily·Writers Corner·January 14, 2025·4 min read

  Share
  Guest post written by Honeysuckle and Bone author Trisha Tobias
  Trisha Tobias is the author of the forthcoming young adult debut Honeysuckle and Bone (Zando Young Readers, January 14, 2025). She is a 2019-2021 Highlights Foundation Diversity Fellow and a recipient of the 2018 Walter Dean Myers Grant. She has also volunteered as a 2018 Pitch Wars mentor. Trisha holds a BA in Media and Communication Studies from Fordham University. She crafts stories that illuminate the beauty within darkness, weaving meaningful tales with edge. In her down time, Trisha can be found vibing to K-Pop and showtunes, shuffling tarot cards, and perfecting her skincare routine.

  About Honeysuckle and Bone: Honeysuckle and Bone is a deliciously atmospheric and utterly spooky young adult novel following an imperfect yet courageous teen as she seeks to remake herself in the homeland she always idealized, discovering that new beginnings don’t always come easy.

  Take a peek at an excerpt after the guest post!

  Blood isn’t thicker than water.

  Don’t get me wrong. Family matters. But the family you’re born into doesn’t have to be the only one that makes you feel like you’re part of something meaningful.

  In my debut novel, Honeysuckle and Bone, eighteen-year-old Carina lands in her mother’s homeland of Jamaica, ready to be an au pair for the wealthy and powerful Hall family. This is Carina’s first time actually visiting the island. She wonders how to fit in, not only with the Halls, but with the country and culture overall. While Jamaica is her mother’s birthplace, to Jamaican American Carina, it’s foreign; Carina is a puzzle piece that might not fit. And while the Halls invite Carina to be a temporary member of their family, the offer feels like both Carina’s greatest desire and a massive burden. To be like the Halls is to be bigger than herself and to meet their incredibly high standards. In short, there likely isn’t a place for Carina-the-person in the Hall clan.

  Luckily, Carina finds acceptance and understanding elsewhere: in a group of teen coworkers known as the Young Birds. Carina and the Young Birds have a few things in common. They’re all employees of the Halls. They all share Jamaican heritage. But the Young Birds couldn’t be more different from Carina when comparing their upbringings, their current life situations, or even their ways of speaking. Still, despite this, Carina is brought into the fold and shown some love she’d long been missing. And soon enough, Carina is looking out for them too—sometimes, even when they’d rather she mind her business.

  That’s a found family. A group of disparate-seeming people who find—and choose—each other.

  The found family trope has serious staying power with audiences, which can probably be attributed to its wide appeal. And what’s not to like? The trope is a haven for outsiders. It’s a beacon of hope that speaks to connection despite life’s darkness. It’s a loving representation of friendship that can span different backgrounds and walks of life. For many, the idea of a chosen family is a lifeline all its own.

  For years growing up, I had a lifeline like this. Some of my closest friends were girls who had Caribbean heritage too—from countries like Guyana and St. Vincent. In our largely white communities, finding each other felt like a quirk of fate, one for which I was personally grateful. I saw a lot of myself in my friends. We were girls with mothers from elsewhere, sitting in that spot between American and Caribbean influence.

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  Yet while we bonded in our similarities, we also enjoyed sharing in our differences. There were obvious things, like our individual personalities; every group seems to have a quiet one, a loud one, and an adventurous one, and my little clique was no different. But our lived experiences also ranged as much as our cultures. One friend introduced me to soca when I had only been exposed to some reggae and dancehall. Another friend’s grandmother made Guyanese bake, and I stuffed my face full of it because it was new to me—and it was delicious. When our mothers would speak, I’d note the contrasts in their accents and how, somehow, none of us kids had picked them up. So much felt distinct yet familiar.

  These were my sisters. We’d laugh, and we’d argue, and we’d still be us, the ones who found and chose each other. Who else could understand our place in the world, our position amongst our peers at school or at church? That was our girlhood, and we had a mutual understanding of each other, even though we didn’t have the words to articulate any of it when we were so young. To discover and comprehend each other opened the door to discover and comprehend ourselves in a protected space.

  I would not be who I am today without those girls.

  In challenging and divisive times, found family is crucial, not only in storytelling, but in our day-to-day lives. We need more than community in order to thrive. We need more than shared DNA or surnames. We need to find our people, the ones who will support, uplift, and encourage us in moments of need, the ones who will stay when they have no obligation to do so. The ones who accept and understand us even though we live such divergent lives. That’s where true union grows. That’s where we become who we are meant to be—with safety. With love.

  Blood over water? No. Not when the water represents those we chose and those who chose us. Not when blood and water are both needed to live.

Tobias, Trisha HONEYSUCKLE AND BONE Sweet July/Zando (Teen None) $19.99 1, 14 ISBN: 9781638931027

Eighteen-year-old New Yorker Carina Marshall is working as an au pair for the wealthy, prominent Hall family in Jamaica for a few months until their permanent nanny arrives.

Jamaican American Carina's days are filled with tending to Jada and Luis, the family's youngest kids, and spending time with the other staff members at Blackbead House, the Halls' formal mansion. She also accompanies the Halls to high-profile events--Ian, the patriarch of the family, is running for prime minister. Amid what should be a carefree summer job, Carina harbors a deep secret that no one in the country knows: She's being plagued by a mysterious entity that seems to want her gone, no matter what it takes. She feels a "dense heat" and notices a "honeyed scent," both of which are preludes to something going wrong around her. As Carina's circumstances deteriorate, she faces a decision that could put her new friendships and her job on the line--and reveal everything she hopes to keep hidden. Carina is an enigmatic character who harbors many secrets, which unravel and will intrigue readers as they follow her journey to uncovering what's happening at Blackbead House. The story's ominous elements contrast vividly with the beautiful ones, and the portrayal of the luxurious Jamaica the wealthy enjoy stands in stark contrast to that of those who are less fortunate. The deliberate pacing in this book centering on a Black cast helps build the tension.

A deliciously dark and mysterious debut.(Horror. 13-18)

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"Tobias, Trisha: HONEYSUCKLE AND BONE." Kirkus Reviews, 1 Nov. 2024. Gale General OneFile, link.gale.com/apps/doc/A813883682/ITOF?u=schlager&sid=bookmark-ITOF&xid=90fa41d8. Accessed 15 Mar. 2025.

Honeysuckle and Bone

Trisha Tobias. Sweet July, $19.99 (320p) ISBN 978-1-63893-102-7

A ghost haunts a grieving 18-year-old in Tobias's lush and alluring debut. Life in New York is miserable for Carina Marshall now that her best friend, Joy, is dead and her peers all hate her. To escape, Carina tells her parents she's driving cross-country but instead flies to Jamaica--a trip her Jamaican-born mother has forbidden, citing danger and expense. Joy was supposed to spend the summer nannying for the Halls, a prominent Jamaican family she'd never met, so Carina lies to the family and takes Joy's place. The Halls' estate, Blackbead House, is gorgeous; there, Carina immediately befriends some teenage employees, but she's also beset by violent visions, a cloying scent, and spectral messages demanding her departure. After hearing stories about a spirit tied to Blackbead, Carina starts digging, desperate to prove her tormenter isn't Joy seeking vengeance from beyond. Though Carina's supernatural encounters lack cogency and coherence, which undermines the tale's success as a ghost story, her first-person-present narration fosters tension while immersing readers in the sights, sounds, and culture of Jamaica. All of Tobias's fully fleshed characters have brown skin, and most speak with a "melodic lilt of patois." Ages 14-up. Agent: Chelsea Eberly, Greenhouse Literary. (Jan.)

Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2024 PWxyz, LLC
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"Honeysuckle and Bone." Publishers Weekly, vol. 271, no. 37, 30 Sept. 2024, p. 54. Gale General OneFile, link.gale.com/apps/doc/A811729323/ITOF?u=schlager&sid=bookmark-ITOF&xid=695eefe4. Accessed 15 Mar. 2025.