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A review by thisblackgirlreads
A Million Aunties by Alecia McKenzie
3.0
Let me tell you about Alecia McKenzie’s *A Million Aunties*. This book is like a warm hug from your favourite auntie, the one who always knows what to say when you’re down, who fills your belly with good food and your spirit with good vibes. It’s a beautiful reminder of how we build family outside of blood ties, how we heal through community, and how the bonds we create can help us navigate this wild journey called life. McKenzie takes us on a ride that crisscrosses Jamaica, New York, and even Paris, and she does it with a cast of characters who feel like folks we know and love—or need to know and love.
The story follows Chris, a biracial artist from New York, who’s trying to put the pieces of his life back together after losing his wife in a tragic accident. His grief leads him to Jamaica, where he hopes to find some quiet and maybe a little inspiration. But what he ends up finding is a whole crew of aunties—women who, in their own unique ways, help him start to heal. These women, with their wisdom, humour, and life experience, don’t just stitch Chris back together—they remind us all of the power of community and the ways we can be lifted up by those around us.
One of my favorite quotes from the book comes from Chris as he reflects on the love and acceptance he finds in this small Jamaican village: "You learn that family isn’t always the one you’re born into, but sometimes it’s the one you build for yourself, piece by piece, moment by moment."
Ain’t that the truth? So many of us know that feeling—that realization that the people who truly see us, who hold us down, might not be our blood relatives. It’s those aunties who step in when we need mothering, sisterhood, or just a place to lay our burdens down. McKenzie captures this so beautifully, reminding us that our chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more so, than the one we’re born into.
Another line that really struck a chord with me was when Auntie Vera, one of the most endearing characters, drops this gem: "Love is what you do. It’s how you show up for people, how you make space for them to be who they are, no matter what."
Now, if that doesn’t preach, I don’t know what does! Auntie Vera speaks to the core of what this book is about—showing up for each other, making space for each other’s joys and pains, and creating a world where we can all just *be*. Her words remind us that love isn’t always grand gestures; sometimes it’s the small, consistent ways we show up for each other that make all the difference.
McKenzie’s writing is lush and layered, just like the island of Jamaica itself. She doesn’t shy away from the complexities of identity, migration, or the different ways grief shows up in our lives. But she also fills her pages with love, humour, and those little moments that feel like sitting on a porch with your people, sharing stories and laughter as the sun sets. This book is like a quilt made up of so many different patches, each one adding depth and richness to the overall story.
So, if you’re looking for a novel that will wrap you in the warmth of Black womanhood, that will make you think about the aunties who’ve guided you, and that will remind you of the power of community and chosen family, this is the one. It’s a love letter to all the women who’ve shaped us, held us, and loved us fiercely.
The story follows Chris, a biracial artist from New York, who’s trying to put the pieces of his life back together after losing his wife in a tragic accident. His grief leads him to Jamaica, where he hopes to find some quiet and maybe a little inspiration. But what he ends up finding is a whole crew of aunties—women who, in their own unique ways, help him start to heal. These women, with their wisdom, humour, and life experience, don’t just stitch Chris back together—they remind us all of the power of community and the ways we can be lifted up by those around us.
One of my favorite quotes from the book comes from Chris as he reflects on the love and acceptance he finds in this small Jamaican village: "You learn that family isn’t always the one you’re born into, but sometimes it’s the one you build for yourself, piece by piece, moment by moment."
Ain’t that the truth? So many of us know that feeling—that realization that the people who truly see us, who hold us down, might not be our blood relatives. It’s those aunties who step in when we need mothering, sisterhood, or just a place to lay our burdens down. McKenzie captures this so beautifully, reminding us that our chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more so, than the one we’re born into.
Another line that really struck a chord with me was when Auntie Vera, one of the most endearing characters, drops this gem: "Love is what you do. It’s how you show up for people, how you make space for them to be who they are, no matter what."
Now, if that doesn’t preach, I don’t know what does! Auntie Vera speaks to the core of what this book is about—showing up for each other, making space for each other’s joys and pains, and creating a world where we can all just *be*. Her words remind us that love isn’t always grand gestures; sometimes it’s the small, consistent ways we show up for each other that make all the difference.
McKenzie’s writing is lush and layered, just like the island of Jamaica itself. She doesn’t shy away from the complexities of identity, migration, or the different ways grief shows up in our lives. But she also fills her pages with love, humour, and those little moments that feel like sitting on a porch with your people, sharing stories and laughter as the sun sets. This book is like a quilt made up of so many different patches, each one adding depth and richness to the overall story.
So, if you’re looking for a novel that will wrap you in the warmth of Black womanhood, that will make you think about the aunties who’ve guided you, and that will remind you of the power of community and chosen family, this is the one. It’s a love letter to all the women who’ve shaped us, held us, and loved us fiercely.