Reviews with content warning for Mental illness - The Cost of Knowing

TL;DR: A tragic, gripping YA loss-of-innocence tale interwoven with multigenerational magic that demonstrates just how elusive a carefree, joyful childhood is for Black boys in America. My rating: 4 of 5 stars

After a few chapters, I had a hard time putting The Cost of Knowing down. And yet, I’m having a harder time than usual reviewing this book because the parts of the story that make it so so special feel like spoilers. But I’ll try. In the acknowledgements, Morris writes that before she could write a Black boy joy book, she had to write a “Black-boy-joy-despite book.” The Cost of Knowing is a story about two Black boy brothers (11 and 16) coping with the loss of their parents while living with their aunt in her very affluent and very white gated community in a suburb of Chicago.

On the surface, Alex is just a grieving kid struggling to be the man of the house his father taught him to be--working his ass off for Scoop, the owner of a local ice cream shop (and still unjustly being treated like he is unreliable), to earn a paycheck and provide for the people he loves (like his girlfriend and deceased best friend’s mother, who he surreptitiously sends part of his earnings to).

However, Alex has a secret. Ever since his parents died, he can see the future of every object or person he touches. This is not a superpower, it’s a curse. Alex spends his days trying to avoid the thousands and thousands of visions that he’s plagued by, usually without success. He lives with debilitating anxiety over the things he sees or is afraid he’ll see. One of the smallest but most heartbreaking consequences of Alex’s curse is how isolated it leaves him, starving himself and his loved ones of the healing and comforting physical touches he and they crave. Maybe it’s partially due to a year of being physically isolated due to the pandemic, but I DIED every time Alex wished he could hold his girlfriend’s hand or hug his brother. GIVE THIS BOY A HUG. Besides that, Morris also kept me in my feels with how she wrote Alex’s visions and anxiety. I could imagine how exhausting they were to experience because they were exhausting to read.

One day Alex sees something he can’t unsee--a grave with his little brother’s name on it. With this premonition, he must decide how to spend the last few days of his brother’s life. Alex feels helpless amid thoughts of the many, many dangers that could befall a young Black boy, from a car accident, to a slippery floor, to the Karen nextdoor who bakes the boys cookies at the same time she reveals her racism with colorblind rhetoric and coded language petitioning against a Black rap artist’s performance to keep certain kinds of people out of their safe neighborhood.

Despite being somewhat estranged in the years after their parents' passing, the brothers come together and discover the secrets they’ve each been hiding and how the curse connects them to the magic of their regal ancestors in Africa. I found this part of the storyline particularly affecting given that the legacy of slavery continues to rob Black Americans of their genealogies.

Another aspect of this story that I loved was how this trauma gives Alex the maturity and courage he needs to reject the patriarchal norms of masculinity he grew up on and step away from some of the responsibilities he felt compelled to prematurely take on. No one can give Alex, or frankly any Black boy, the childhood they deserve. But he can learn to set boundaries and prioritize his mental health. He can be open about his feelings and nourish and be nourished in meaningful relationships. He can relish joy wherever he creates it or finds it. His feelings matter.

This story lost a star for me due to my frustration over one plot point. In the days leading up to when he expects his brother’s death, Alex wants to give his brother happy and fun final days. However, in connection with the curse, he’s also set on forcing both himself and his brother to face their worst fears. These motives felt contradictory to me, and I don’t feel like that contradiction was acknowledged or reconciled as Alex vacillated between these conflicting desires.

Also, read the acknowledgements. They’re as beautiful as the story.

Many thanks to NetGalley and Simon and Schuster Children's Publishing for giving me advance access to this book in exchange for an honest review.

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