Sky Full of Elephants

by Cebo Campbell

In this exquisite speculative novel set in a world where white people no longer exist, college professor Charlie Brunton receives a call from his estranged daughter Sidney, setting off a chain of events as they journey across a truly “post-racial” America in search of answers.

One day, a cataclysmic event occurs: all of the white people in America walk into the nearest body of water. A year later, Charles Brunton is a Black man living in an entirely new world. Having served time in prison for a wrongful conviction, he’s now a professor of electric and solar power systems at Howard University when he receives a call from someone he wasn’t even sure existed: his daughter Sidney, a nineteen-year-old who watched her white mother and step-family drown themselves in the lake behind their house.

Traumatized by the event, and terrified of the outside world, Sidney has spent a year in isolation in Wisconsin. Desperate for help, she turns to the father she never met, a man she has always resented. Sidney and Charlie meet for the first time as they embark on a journey across America headed for Alabama, where Sidney believes she may still have some family left. But neither Sidney or Charlie is prepared for this new world and how they see themselves in it.

When they enter the Kingdom of Alabama, everything Charlie and Sidney thought they knew about themselves, and the world, will be turned upside down. Brimming with heart and humor, Cebo Campbell’s astonishing debut novel is about the power of community and connection, about healing and self-actualization, and a reckoning with what it means to be Black in America, in both their world and ours.

Genres: Fiction, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Dystopia, Speculative Fiction, Audiobook, Literary Fiction

304 pages, Hardcover

First published September 10, 2024

About the author

CEBO CAMPBELL is an award-winning, multi-hyphenate creative based in New York and London. He is a winner of the Stories Award for Poetry, and his writings are featured in numerous publications. As co-founder and CCO of the renowned NYC creative agency Spherical, Cebo leads teams of creatives in shaping the best hotel brands in the world. His range of talents as a creative director have sent him all over the globe infusing creativity, from working with the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust in the UK, to concepting the Million Miracles humanitarian campaign throughout Africa and India, to writing and directing the VR short film Refuge: Triumph in Tulsa, based on the famed Black Wall Street in Oklahoma. Cebo’s expansive work as a writer, designer, and director are powered by a singular mindset: contribute meaningfully to the culture. And he does. With everything he touches.

At present, Cebo is likely somewhere in Europe enjoying good whiskey and better conversation.

Reviews

[Jeremy Garber · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am a straight white middle-class educated cisgender male. I check off every category of privilege possible in the USA of 2024. This book was not written for me, and it made me uncomfortable. I think that's why it was important for me to read it.

Sky Full of Elephants begins with all the white people in America walking into the sea and drowning. The book centers around Charlie, a former inmate liberated after the event, who is a master of electricity overseeing the transformation of a new United States. He receives a message from his estranged daughter who was living in Wisconsin with her white family, telling him to take her to the South where some white folks might still be alive. The rest of the story follows Charlie and Sidney as they take electric cars (because nobody drills for gas anymore) into the South and expose the beauty and the complicated realities of a post-White world.

The tough part for White readers, of course, is that this is a utopia predicated on genocide. At some points in the book Campbell seems to savor that fact, but at his best, the characters in the novel wrestle with that reality in different ways. In this new world, Black folks can laugh and dance and sing without fear of violence or reprisal. Campbell even seems to suggest that capitalism and oppression are natural features of White culture, and both have been gleefully abandoned once the White folks are gone. That's the Utopian piece, and I can see where Campbell is coming from in his imagination, but it's still an oversimplification that can lead to the very danger and violence that Campbell seems to be against. I give Campbell credit for at points questioning this violence, and for his imagination - this world is a world that I would want to live in, without question. The bigger concern is whether I would be allowed to -or whether the utopia requires the death of people like me.

[Lala BooksandLala · Rating 5 out of 5]

Complex and simply transcendent

[Daidria Eckels · Rating 5 out of 5]

I see many white people reviewing this book and calling it uncomfortable. It’s SUPPOSED to be uncomfortable for us. It SHOULD be uncomfortable for us.

That reaction to whiteness and white people being wiped out should really make is think about why that bothers us so much; and really, truly weigh and consider that fact that it not even equivalent to what has been done - and CONTINUES to be done - to Black Americans and Native People in the US.

Ok, so lemme step off of my soapbox and talk about this book. It is so beautifully written & the characters are drawn for us in such powerful ways… i thoroughly enjoyed learning about who Charlie and Sidney are and how complicated their relationship to each other and their Blackness is. I wanted to stay with them, and mourned a bit that the book was over.
I also love the ending - i’m a fan of ambiguous endings in art - and think that the way that we interpret that final page says a lot about who we are.

I’m excited to dive into more of Cebo Campbell’s work. I hope this book gets wide recognition.

Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC

[The Speculative Shelf · Rating 4 out of 5]

A bold, high-concept premise brought into sharp focus by Cebo Campbell’s lively and vibrant prose.

A twist on a familiar formula (see The Leftovers or The Last of Us) – here, all white people walk into the sea and never return. What follows is the quest of an estranged father and daughter seeking common ground as they trek across a fundamentally altered version of America.

I really enjoyed Campbell's writing style. It is lively and flows smoothly from page to page, making it a true pleasure to read. It effortlessly conveys the complexities of the new world and the complicated feelings of the characters that inhabit it.

An eyebrow-raising plot development in the latter half of the book recontextualizes the way the story is understood. And while certain plot beats push the boundaries of plausibility, they are grounded in the magical realism that permeates the narrative.

My thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for an advanced reader copy in exchange for an honest review.

Reviewer note: Anecdotally, I noticed a batch of 1-star ratings (not reviews) popping up on Goodreads for this title – presumably a blind backlash to the plot description. Please don’t make assumptions about what the book is actually about. At no point do any characters rejoice in the absence of white people. It’s not a wish-fulfillment parable about how to make the world a better place. It’s a fascinating “what-if” scenario that shines a necessary light on the unvarnished realities of the country and who controls the levers of power and influence in our society. There’s no trivialization of the subject matter and the book offers many intriguing examinations of race and racial identity. Give this book a chance, and if you can’t, don’t blindly bomb the ratings.

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[Andre · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’ll start at the end. The conclusion of this novel is a dud. Like a flat soda, no sizzle left for the denouement. However, getting to that end is quite a thoughtful journey. Protagonist Charles is the center of this highly implausible tale. As I’m sure you are all aware, the premise, all the white folks walk into their nearest body of water in a massive self drowning, leaving America to Black folks and others. Wow! So, as you can imagine the language and thoughts and dialogue give readers much to ponder. And Cebo Campbell’s prose keeps the pages turning. One thing most people haven’t considered is the generational trauma that has impacted Black folks, not only in America but in the world. Clearly that has affected how Black people move in the world, while others remain detached from the pain and the shame.

“Feeling what deserves to be felt is the only pathway to understanding. Let’s get it straight: white folks did rape and steal and kill, and black folks died by the thousands—was dying all the way up ’til a year ago. Never feeling shame for that, and not allowing us to feel anger over it, means we don’t evolve. We just go on repeating evil we can’t understand. I’m sure your momma was a nice lady with a good heart, but her not feeling ashamed about all that happened is the same as not feeling anything at all.”

Charles who is able to extricate himself from prison after the event, becomes a professor at Howard University because he has valuable knowledge of electronics, so the new standard becomes, “if you know, teach” credentials be damned. Charles learns he has a daughter, and when she reaches out to him for help getting to Alabama, because she believes some of her people may be gathered there, the novel gains propulsion. So Charles makes his way to Wisconsin to scoop his daughter Sidney, and they embark on a journey to Alabama. And on the way, they find out who they are to each other and who they are to their self. In uncovering identity, a discovery of fitting in unfolds.

This book will leave you with a lot to ruminate upon. I’m certain some will find some discomfort, but push on and come through the tough questions that will arise. Cebo Campbell will make you better for having persevered. Thanks to Netgalley and Simon&Schuster for an advanced DRC. Book drops 9/10/24, get ready world!

[Mimi Ivy · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was not expecting a book about the sudden extinction of American white folks to feel very YA but here we are. This book was written for a high school audience. It’s also very preachy and - dare I say - self righteous. The characters share “historical facts” that, while quite interesting, have unnatural placement within the text and are unrelated to the progress of the plot. I came here for suspense, thrill, and a new perspective on the structures of race in America and I gained absolutely none of that. Overall, the grit is lacking, and after the first few chapters, the story is too. I am so very disappointed that this book did not live up to its premise. It desperately needed more thoughtful world-building.

Sidney gives exactly what I expect from a sheltered biracial girl with a white mom - insufferable. It’s unfortunate that she’s a central character.

Now that I think about it, I’m not so sure that Black people are the target demographic for this book. There’s too much over explanation, which raises my suspicion about the author’s motives. It seems that Campbell wrote this knowing it would get a rise out of white people ( or at least pique their interest) and he expected them to read it. He wrote with them in mind. If I could humbly share of word of advice: decenter the white gaze. It dilutes the story.

Two stars instead of one for the interesting premise.

[chantel nouseforaname · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 rounded up, and that pains me!

Honestly, the book is crazy - in the best way up until 75%. After reading Chapter 10 I was actually tripping out because of the mentally damaged people brutalized by the constant racism that were left behind to struggle and grasp at how much their lives had changed. That was heavy. That really stood out to me. Cebo Campbell touched upon so many topics, so many issues within the community surrounding identity, loss, despair, mental health that were just so necessary. The mental health conversation are actually the parts of this book that I thought were done well. It was painful, believable, sometimes absurd, but the ways that racial battle fatigue and race-aligned mental health issues can show up some times can be devastating and at times surreal.

I found the premise of this book infinitely intriguing. I was like: yo he could go anywhere with this. ANYWHERE... and he did. However, it couldn't stick the landing, and that kills me because it had so much potential! The ambition? Impeccable. Thought-provoking? Absolutely. But exactly at the 75% mark, it began to fall apart in spectacular fashion. And the funny thing is, that last 25% made me look back and realize the flaws I’d been letting slide all along.

The flaws—oh, where to begin! This book flirts with being a hotep masterpiece. It’s like the sauce dried out of the pan before it could simmer. I feel like there was a level of reduction here, that he let go crazy at the end. That shit burnt the fuck out. Some folks got abandoned, punctuated with the open-ended endings that I have a love-hate relationship with. I have a lot of thoughts. There’s a little bit of Jonathan Majoring going on here, and I feel like Dr. Umar might want a word. I also think there's multiple stories that didn't need to be connected because they stood so strong on their own. Cebo Campbell gave some plot points too much water! Pun intended. You can see the parallel stories and it just felt like - you're trying to say something but you're letting what you're trying to say about one very important topic, get in the way of another very important topic. For example: mass incarceration being tantamount to lynching, men stepping outside the community and its impact in both communities, relationship struggles that arise from poor father-daughter relationships, the struggle for Black men to just be, to live free, to have non-transactional relationships with their brothers, to engage in community, there's a lot here. We need all the stories, but the conjoining of those stories waters down each one.

Anyway, I'm getting in the weeds. I think men, especially the brothers, will vibe with this novel much more than I did. It was written for them. I ain't mad at that at all! In fact, I love it. We need all of them. We need all the novels written by the Brothers - we need the new ones, the old ones, the future ones. I think the fact that my edition has a blurb from Mateo Askaripour is fitting. Especially considering the hoopla over Black Buck. Despite what I think about some of the missteps in Sky Full of Elephants; I will read whatever work Cebo Campbell puts out next. I think he's got a lot more to give and he's got a vision, even if it's tied up with some messy realities that need exorcising.

[Cynthia · Rating 3 out of 5]

This spectacular idea was a bit bumpy in its execution, but it did give me a lot to think about.

I know we, as white people, aren’t always willing to embrace the part we may have played in Black trauma. I wonder if that’s why this was quickly bombed with one star ratings on Goodreads. When I first glanced at the book’s profile, its average rating was under three stars. I was enraged by this so I requested it on NetGalley. Perhaps I was a bit too confident in the love I expected to feel for it. I am glad, however, that others have now read and loved it so it can be fairly rated. We all know those early one star ratings did not come from people who had actually engaged with the content.

It hurts my heart to confess that I am not able to rate this as well as I’d hoped to, but it wasn’t the premise that didn’t work for me. I think it’s a brilliant one, as well as an important concept to explore. And I don’t think the author was completely careless with the idea.

Sky Full of Elephants was uncomfortable, and that discomfort communicated a powerful message, but its potency was diluted by the issues I found within the text.

My first complaint is that the author explained too much. Since he invested so much time into making his point, the elements that needed a more profound development were shortchanged. The author wanted to mold a narrative around the harm that white people have done, and that’s fair, but his overt communication muffled the actual story. As a result, no conflict ever truly felt strained, including Sidney’s relationship with her father.

I wish Charlie’s storyline had been a bit different. I do understand that what he endured has happened to Black men, and that there was a time when a Black man wouldn’t have even made it to a courthouse under such circumstances, never mind prison. I know the author’s choices further exemplified the cruelty we are capable of. He demonstrated Charlie’s goodness beyond what had been done to him while explaining that he wasn’t (as Sidney presumed) a deadbeat dad at all. It was just difficult for me to embrace the device used because, as a woman, I know that my gender is also marginalized, that our voices have been silenced, and that most claims regarding sexual assault are actually true. I realize Sidney’s mother did not fling the initial accusation, but this angle in the narrative felt problematic to me. I did, however, like Charlie’s character.

Sky Full of Elephants did make me think a lot about our failure to encourage cultural identity, as well as our blatant attempts to erase it. I felt saddened as I considered my own children, who are mixed race like Sidney. Although it was never deliberate, I do fear I did not expose them to enough Black history or culture while they were growing up. I’d like to say that I was overwhelmed and dealing with my own trauma as I raised them, but who’s to say I would have done any better without those impediments? Would I have even recognized the need? The novel certainly made me want to do better, even though my children are adults now. I grieve the pieces of their identity I never nurtured.

I am immensely grateful to Simon and Schuster and NetGalley for my copy. All opinions are my own.

[Michael Burke · Rating 3 out of 5]

The premise of “Sky Full of Elephants” is intriguing. All white people in America walk into the nearest body of water and drown. Charlie Brunton, unjustly imprisoned in a racially motivated conviction, is contacted by his daughter Sidney– whom he has never met. She is mixed-race, although she rigorously identifies as white, and wants Charlie to transport her from Wisconsin to Alabama where she believes she has white relatives surviving.

The highlight of this novel is the road trip. The father and daughter’s struggle to understand one another is complicated by Charlie’s secret reason for his incarceration and the distance he has kept from Sidney. Along the way we also see how the vanishing of white control is affecting different aspects of the country.

Everything changes once they enter Mobile, in the Kingdom of Alabama. The atmosphere is festive, a huge weight has been lifted off the people. Now the Charlie - Sydney plot virtually disappears, as they have other priorities. Sydney also does an unreasonably sudden 360, magically embracing her black identity after a lifetime of stubborn denial.

The reason for the white erasure? Without revealing too much, it involves the profound historical suffering inflicted by white America. While it is understandable that this has lifted a huge burden off the remaining world, the abrupt transformation into an idyllic world is a stretch.

While far from perfect, “Sky Full of Elephants” makes for a stimulating read. It explores identity– not only how the individual sees herself, but how a whole race has been manipulated by the enduring repercussions of slavery.

Thank you to Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for providing an advance reader copy in exchange for an honest review. #SkyFullOfElephants #SimonShuster

[Tom LA · Rating 1 out of 5]

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.”, Martin Luther King.

Evidently, Cebo Campbell disagrees with this quote.

This book tells of a USA where all white people have died (magically — no hard science-fictional explanation). Like the reviewer “Jeremy” says, once all the white folks have died, “black folks can laugh and sing and dance without fear of violence or reprisal”.

See, because that’s not something they can do today.

First, let’s get the surface stuff out the way: the book is not written very well, I have found — like many other readers — several gaping plot holes.

The focus on the daughter’s “internalized racism” is a clumsy way to fictionalize a social studies research paper, and it doesn’t work well.

Additionally, hinting in a not-so-subtle way that capitalism is a “white people thing”, like the author does, is nonsensical. Capitalism means open markets: what did hundreds of huge African tribes have for thousands of years before being colonized, if not open markets? And were they not trading in Black slaves far, far, far before any white colonist set foot on their soil? Ancient Egypt is a perfect example, but think of Kano and Salaga, or Timbuktu in Mali, a great open market where goods like gold, salt and slaves were traded. Not to mention the trade of white slaves, as well, even if that is a piece of history that no one talks about.

Now, on to the important part.

I am an Italian catholic and I’m 50 years old. I grew up in Italy, I lived in Germany, in the UK, and after 14 years living in the US, I’m now a US citizen.

I’m highly educated, I don’t like everyone but I sincerely love every single human being, without any hint of a difference.

People have hated me because of my faith. People have hated me because I’m Italian. People have hated me because they were in a horrible mood in that moment.

I do not care and I do not create any cultural narrative out of these behaviors. That’s how life goes. There are millions of reasons why our brothers and sisters may sometimes hate us, and being black may be one of them, just like being white may be one of them, or being blue or purple. But being black in 2024 U.S., in and of itself, is objectively and demonstrably not a problem anymore, no matter what Toni Morrison or Barack Obama or any other panderer would have you think. In fact, it’s largely because of people like Obama that it might “be a problem”. That kind of thinking is pure poison. But I’ll get back to this point later.

Going on incessantly about the past, like Cebo Campbell does (indirectly) with his book, has ZERO constructive consequences, but a lot of negative and toxic consequences — which, coincidentally, is a principle that applies perfectly to any individual’s life and past.

Remembering a historic tragedy is very important for everyone. But this is not what this whole cultural phenomenon is about, because this is not a simple look back to the past, like the memory of the holocaust can be: this pits present people against other present people. Therein lies the utter absurdity.

You know what would be really hard for me, if I was black today? It would be living in a society where they keep telling me that I should be angry, that I should be very angry, because I am a victim — it would be living in this society and not get at least a little bit angrier than what I would naturally be, just due to the constant media aggression.

The barrage of “Look at what they did to us”! “Look at how they treated US!”. “Are you gonna let THEM get away with that?” would probably get at least a little under my skin. Songs, movies, books, articles. Every. Single. Day.

Don’t you see how fake and divisive this attitude is? Don’t you see that there is no “us” and “them”?
Don’t you see that today black and white is not even a binary choice anymore, with millions of people being of mixed ethnicities?

Don’t you see that writing a book about “us” and “them” today is dangerous and divisive?

When I talk about mixed ethnicity people, that includes my son, by the way. He is not white and he is not black. He is a child of God, just like you and me, just like everyone else. Just like the rev. Martin Luther King wanted to see us all be and see ourselves.

Nothing else. Americans. And before that, children of God, with many differences and various skills.

If I’ve never for one second felt like a victim in my life, it’s not because I’m white. It’s because I’ve always known that feeling like a victim — in any circumstances, but especially when you are not one — is stupid. It’s very simple.

Corroborating the myth that being black in America today is a tougher life in and of itself is counterproductive. It’s fanning the flame of my Black brothers’ anger. This anger can come from anywhere else, but now they have a fictional place to channel it: the struggle.

Don’t get me wrong: the “struggle” was real. Very real. I’ve read three long MLK biographies, and God, in his times the struggle was absolutely real.

Today it’s not anymore. Full stop. I don’t care how entitled one might feel to think that only they or Cebo Campbell can talk about how real the struggle is, because our world offers facts to counter every fallacious argument. The argument “You can’t talk about it because you’re not black” is contrary to the first amendment. Pretty fundamental stuff, folks, so do not use that argument.

A major fallacy in the modern discourse on Black struggle is the idea that “systemic barriers” are the sole cause of disparities, neglecting the role of individual choices, cultural factors, and the negative consequences of some social policies (i.e. welfare programs that can create dependency and hinder upward mobility within communities).

A constant and intense focus on these fallacies can hinder real progress for black Americans.

Another dangerous fallacy: the notion that the U.S. is a systemically racist or white supremacist society. The median incomes of Americans of Chinese, Japanese, Indian and Korean ancestry are higher than those of white Americans. Among male workers, Asian Indian males earn over $39k a year more than white males ….. a weird outcome if white supremacy were so pervasive.

Black family poverty has long been higher than white family poverty, but the poverty rate of black married-couple families is consistently below the national poverty rate. So: if black family poverty is caused by “systemic racism’”, do racists make an exception for blacks who are married? That doesn’t quite compute, does it?

I’m not even going to discuss affirmative action. The Supreme Court has said more than enough about it, in a very eloquent way.

I also read Barack Obama’s memoir, Dreams from My Father. Obama offers the example of a young black man who wanted to become a pilot but decided not to pursue it because he thought the Air Force would never let a black man fly.

Obama stops there, obviously, because he is simply not a deep thinker, and he loves the fallacy of “internalized barriers”, which is as stolid as the “internalized racism” that Campbell describes within the protagonist’s daughter.

Obama never acknowledges that the fact he references happened decades AFTER a whole squadron of black American fighter pilots flew in World War II. Decades.
Whoever indoctrinated this young man did him more harm than any racist could have, by keeping him from even trying to become a pilot. That is racism, too: twisting someone’s mind based on artificial and politicized concepts of racial identity.

By penetrating the psyche of the country with his ideology, Obama has done real damage to black people and to the US. No Obama would have meant no BLM, no victim ideology, no constantly fanning the flames of anger, and no “Sky Full of Elephants”.

That’s why I think this book is divisive, dangerous and ultimately racist, in a very literal sense: as MLK said, only light can drive out darkness, not other darkness.

[Kayla Davis · Rating 2 out of 5]

I really wanted to like this book. It was written beautifully and had some good thoughts but I expected the story to be better. We had a world without wh*te ppl and the book was still centered around them. Just very over the “too white for the black kids & too black for the white” story

[Chrissie Whitley · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5 stars

A speculative fiction novel with dashes of science fiction, dystopian, and magical realism — all wrapped up in a road trip book of sorts. When Sky Full of Elephants begins, we are one year out from a large-scale mass suicide — with no warning one day all the white people in the United States turned and walked themselves into the nearest body of water and drowned.

Charlie Brunton gets a call from the biracial daughter he's never met, who has grown up with her white mother and step-family in Wisconsin. Sidney, calling on the favor of his biological relationship, all but demands he drive to her in Wisconsin and then take her to Alabama, where she believes there is a colony of the few remaining white people.

In typical roadtrip fashion, they stop a few places, meet new people, and head to Alabama. But in Campbell's construct there are some key differences as a result of the sudden and swift absence of white people. The power grid is spotty across the country, and when they arrive at Chicago O'Hare they learn of the new rules that are in place: no money is needed or exchanged, there are no schedules for planes, taking a ticket allows you to stay for seven days in the airport itself, but if you leave you can't return for thirty days. On top of that, Alabama has been sealed off and gained a king to rule over it. There is a no-fly zone over the entire state, so it's up to Charlie and Sidney to persuade a pilot (named Sailor, no doubt) to fly them as close as possible. From there they drive into the Kingdom of Alabama and discover an entirely different way of living than one they ever dreamed of before.

I love the concept of this novel — loved it from the summary, and I even love the part I laid out above in the preceding paragraph. But beyond the vaguest sense of the story there, I struggled the entire time with plot hole after plot hole, oversimplified characters and situations, and a utopia installed, when I emphatically believe utopias are not truly possible. While the story does a good job exploring identity through Sidney and Charlie, there was not nearly enough time or space spent with these two so they could build a relationship. For the majority of the second half, they were hardly even in the same room together.

In the end, I felt that Campbell broke the unspoken pact between reader and storyteller on too many points — the ground was absolutely littered with countless Chekhov's guns — and he missed the opportunity for a deeper exploration of the themes on which he touched. However, I read the review in Medium, and I happily agree with Zachary Houle in that I look forward to the books to come that this will no doubt inspire.

I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review.

[Lois · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 rounded up

This novel has a fascinating premise. The author is a poet, and there are many delightfully beautiful turns of phrase. Overall, this was slow. The characters are one dimensional and feel in most cases like literal stereotypes. I think if this was written in the 1920s, it would be fabulous, but as written in the 2020s and set in modern times, it falls flat. Honestly, this feels like an idea for a story that didn't get seasoned well or cooked long enough.

The author never capitalizes Black when referring to humans in the text. It's such an off-putting choice and bugged me throughout the text. It fits with the overall theme of infantilizing Black agency, which seemed to impact most of the story in the novel. I kinda like the anarchist aspect of folks working without pay and taking what they need. However, the idea that no one was left to run things is both suspect and insulting. Black cities with primarily Black governments exist right now.

A few, maybe 3, other countries are mentioned in an extremely minor way, but we don't even explore how the world responds to this situation. This had the potential to be really deep and say something profound but couldn't get out of its own way.

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Spoilers:
So white folks in a coma or on palliative care walked into water to drown themselves? What about white folks not near large bodies of water? Did white pilots' flying planes just fly the whole plane into the water, passengers, and all? Not to mention newborn babies. Did infants and toddlers walk into the water?
Given the explanation provided in the story, why would fresh off the plane white immigrants and white visitors from other countries also walk into the water? So, this didn't impact white folks in Canada or Mexico? Even with similar histories? Why not as we don't have straight borders? The 'frequency' must've reached them, too. Did it happen in Alaska? Our sky would at the least be covered in foreign drones. White folks would absolutely show up to test if it would kill them, too. Ok, I'll just accept that all white folks died. Ignore that this makes zero sense even from the explanation given in the story. This kinda reminds me of the book, Bird Box, when after establishing that looking outside would cause suicidal & homicidal rages, Mallory just drives from her suburban home to downriver without protecting her vision in anyway. Sloppy world building galore.

Why does the author pretend that Black folks aren't prepared to run the country? It's like this is written in an alternate universe in which Obama was never president for 2 terms and the first woman to hold the office of Vice President wasn't Blasian. The Black Caucus didn't step up? Black folks make up about 30% of the Armed Services, including prominent Black Generals. Why would none of those people be prepared or able to run the country? It's okay if we chose not to, but the author implicitly states that we were unable to. That makes no logical sense.

Other POC are practically non-existant. So only Black folks get agency, which they don't know what to do with, and currently existing Indigenous governments, Sovereign fucking nations, don't step into the gap or assert their authority on their own fucking land?

So after white folks are gone, Black folks decide to mammy the Brown and biracial folks who long for a return to white supremacy? They keep them close so they can provide for their fast food chains. This is insultingly ludicrous. White folk are gone, but Black folks are still babysitting white supremacy.😬

This prominently featured a tragic mulatto trope🙃 Sidney would've been born during Obama's presidency so it seems like mixed couples and biracial chikdren would've been not unusual or unique. I literally don't understand her journey to self acceptance even making sense in the context of a story like this. It beggars belief. My father married a white woman in the 60's. I'm literally part of the Loving Generation and Sidney's behavior and beliefs are ridiculous. If Charlie had no criminal record, basically good grades and was from a decent family (which shouldn't matter but does if you're Black) whole organizations exist that fight unfair legal systems. Now he might never have won but to give up without even trying is weird as fuck. Especially with a written confession in the letter from Sidney's mom. To pretend that Charlie had a love story with Sidney's mom is nauseating. She did not love Charlie or she wouldn't have lied to send him to jail. What the entire fuck is up with Sidney's bullshit origin story? What is the point of removing white people from the story to focus on a self-hating tragic mulatress suffering from internalized racism and to act as mammy's to biracial and brown folks who long for white supremacy. This story feels like an over the top attempt to appeal to white folks nonexistent 'better nature'.

The magical negro tropes are cringey and combined with the tragic mulatto trope make this story feel like it was written before desegregation was struck down by the US Supreme Court. It's insulting in many ways to Black & POC Americans. It seems to suggest that white people are why we have manufacturing and sigh. Why get rid of white people to double down on a white supremacist myth? White people are why we have oppression. The rest we had before colonization. Sigh. This novel feels like the author is USA adjacent, like maybe Canadian. Or not Black? Maybe married to a white partner with biracial kids? This is so close but wrong in really kinda white supremacist affirming ways. I am left mostly frustrated and confused.

[Letitia | Bookshelfbyla · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Like the walkers, she too had conformed her life to the shape of its negative space, defined in the contrast of a bright white background.”

In Cebo Campbell’s debut novel ‘Sky Full of Elephants’ we are taken to a different America, a year after a mysterious and appearingly inexplicable event that has vanished the white population. We follow Charlie Brunton, formerly incarcerated, now a professor at Howard University, as he receives a phone call from his estranged daughter Sidney, biracial, who has been living in isolation since the event that resulted in the loss of her family. What ensues is an adventure that will require you to suspend disbelief to explore self-actualization, black consciousness, labels, trauma, community, redemption, and all its complexities.

When I heard this story’s premise, I was immediately intrigued. But once I watched one of Cebo’s interviews, in which he explained how inspired he was by Toni Morrison's writing outside of the white gaze, I knew I had to read it, and I wasn’t disappointed.

This is not a ‘revenge fantasy’ or ‘wish-fulfillment’ story, so please do not mistake it as such. The setup is to allow space for a meaningful conversation and exploration around the ways black people are shaped by whiteness and what happens if whiteness is not the focal point. This is not a perfect society. Some thrive, but some struggle and crave things to return to what’s familiar, creating drama/tension.

It is poetic prose and an engaging narrative, and I really enjoyed listening to it on audio as I read. I flew through this within a few days. It is thought-provoking, evocative, compelling, and unique, with an ambiguous ending, but the message is sung clearly.

I loved how the focus was not on ‘the event’ but on what is to be made of the world after it—how perceptions of ourselves shift, what holes are left, and what is created to fill its absence.

The title ‘Sky Full of Elephants’ refers to the idea of an unseen heavyweight that hovers above but, if released, can be crushing, making you reflect on that version in real life.

I love stories that challenge, spark conversation, and explore the elephants in the sky in a compelling, unique, and heartfelt way, which Cebo accomplishes.

Overall, I loved the sentiment, and it's ideal for readers who enjoy speculative fiction and magical realism and seek thought-provoking stories.

Thank you, S&S, for the gifted copy for my honest review. Congrats, Cebo, on a memorable debut!

[Nick Cameron · Rating 1 out of 5]

Genocide of the entire white population of the United States.

I finished it because I hoped for redemption, or at least remorse.

This book was filled with hate and contempt, and represents a very dangerous and polarizing way of thinking.

Skip it.

[Stefanie · Rating 2 out of 5]

It's a ballsy move to write a book where all the white people die, and I applaud it. I just wish the annihilation of my people gave rise to a better story.

First, a disclaimer: imo this book is very much written for black people (I am choosing to keep "black" lowercase in this review, as the author does in the book). Which is awesome, and their reviews of this book should always be at the top of the GR page, if that were possible. But nonetheless, I offer some thoughts anyway. (You already knew I would, right? I hope I don't regret this.)

One major thing: I made the mistake of treating this book more like SFF than literary fiction, and it led to a lot of frustration and distress. I kept waiting for a cogent exploration of how this mass death worked, precisely. (Which is only offered at the very end of the book.) How everyone left made decisions about how to move on and recreate society. (Which we only understand in one area, Alabama.) This "worldbuilding" is very much not the point of the novel, which spends most of its page count on developing the two main characters, Charlie, and his biracial daughter Sidney, and their relationship.

The book is at its best when it's exploring the deep pain that Charlie carries as a wrongfully formerly incarcerated man. Even though the scenario that got him imprisoned seems REALLY egregious, I won't comment on that. Regardless of the circumstances Campbell chose in his book, I think Charlie's anger, self-doubt, sadness and struggle to fully heal are well described and probably relatable for a lot of black men (formerly incarcerated or not).

I struggled with Sidney's character journey. Abandoned by her father (she believes) and raised in a white family around mostly white people, she is devastated that she didn't walk into water also. The depth of her denial of her black heritage struck me as extreme, but I'd rather hear if it resonates from other black biracial readers.

Another thing I'd like some black readers - specifically black women readers - to weigh in on is the perception of femininity in this book. Black womanhood is placed on a kind of mythic pedestal. Black women in this story seem to exist as tools of inspiration and guidance to the men in their lives. They are very positively portrayed, but nonetheless still passive: the male characters do things. E.g. a queen rules Alabama, but she gives the climactic choice to Charlie.

I know to some extent the whole exercise of this book is to paint the utopian society that would emerge without the heaviness of discrimination and abuse ("the sky full of elephants") over black people's heads, but I do think it's a pretty big leap to assume that capitalism ends without the presence of white people.

I also could not help but wonder over and over what happened to allllllll the other races of people after this death?? That question is ultimately answered - again, towards the end of the book - but I found the take simplistic. It makes me wonder what other non-black people of color think of this book.

So that is a WHOLE LOT that kept me from enjoying this book more. Because there's definitely stuff in there to enjoy. Campbell shines (and revels) in the descriptions of black communities just doing their thing and being joyful. This is wonderful to read. And there's a lot of page count of it. So I think for other readers that gave this book higher marks, that good feeling must have been stronger.

But alas, I was full of nitpicks. Perhaps I do belong under the nearest body of water. At the very least, the spiky experience of reading this book (and wanting more from it) made me more sympathetic to any men who read classic SFF envisioning whole worlds without men.

[Kateria · Rating 3 out of 5]

Very interesting and ambitious premise that I have not encountered before and would like to see more authors tackle . I’m a black woman (who graduated from Howard 🦬🙌🏾) and this felt like more of a thought project for people not like me.

It started off so strong and gripping but sort of devolved for me. The middle section was such a significant change in pace and I was surprised by the magical realism/ sci-fi vibes. The plot slowed down substantially and the author laid the rhetoric about racism, white privilege, oppression, identity outside of race, and generational trauma on toooo thick for me.

I do appreciate the messaging. Work like this is very important to get another layer of insight on an experience I unfortunately live everyday.

Nonetheless the prose was beautiful and really made me ponder what the world would be like without white people - and the author described a reality different from what I would have pictured and that was very enlightening.

[Karen · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Let them inherit the earth by inheriting themselves.”

Let’s get uncomfortable. Just open this book. That is exactly the author’s intention when he chooses to have this book explore the aftermath of a genocidal event in which supposedly every White person in America wakes up, walks into the nearest body of water and drowns.

What kind of fantasy tale is this one?

What message is being conveyed here?

This circumstance, known as “the event” turns society upside down. The internet is barely working, what we referred to as the “Ivy League” is no longer, and the state of Alabama becomes a monarchy. And, along with all of this, people are unsealing the jails, boarding up police stations, as well as, setting country clubs on fire, among a few things.

Is this the future?

Whatever it is, it is the character Charlie’s journey. As a wrongfully incarcerated Black man he is now reunited with his daughter, Sidney. Prior to “the event,” Sidney had always believed she was White, because she was raised by her mother’s White side of the family. Now, they are on a journey to Alabama to visit the Alabaman king and queen.

This story is what we would refer to as “magical realism.” But as in any magical realism story, sometimes things can get a bit strange. After all, how “non-White” does anybody have to be to exist in this new world? And, will they overcome the problems of the old one?

So, suspending disbelief, one can imagine whatever utopia one wants to, right? Is the author daring readers to imagine what a new, better society looks like if we didn’t have any White people at all? Tell that to the incoming Trump administration. Would they walk to the nearest body of water and drown?

“History has never been silent.”

This book wants to make us think. Even if there are so many plot holes readers can find themselves wondering how we are going to manage getting out of any given hole. Thus, leaving us without a lot more questions, than answers. Is that the thinking part of this book – as we try to understand where the author is taking us?

As readers, we are being asked to imagine this future. Maybe we need to draw our colors outside the familiar boxes we have been living in. And, imagine a contemporary America that is not defined by a dominant White autocracy that determines the “governing” rules for its majority citizenry which is diversely non-White. Maybe Campbell is making this reading experience uncomfortable on purpose so we can confront our biases about people that are “different” than “us.”

Even if it is not a perfect society being depicted (because we certainly aren’t one now), and this is a rather imperfect read, it is thought-provoking, uncomfortable, and compelling, all at the same time.

3.5 stars

[Tell · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's clear that Campbell is a poet when you read his writing: the language was evocative, silky, and haunting, with passages lingering long after you've read them.

A speculative take on the road trip novel in a world where white people have walked into the sea, this book explores how to define Blackness outside of whiteness. There are passages that go deep into ancestral and spiritual trauma that are both beautifully written and haunting. The Black identity is plunged for emotional and logistical truth: what does it mean to be mixed? What role does the police serve? Who is doing the policing? Who makes the rules?

The middle of the novel is the strongest, and there are some twists I won't spoil that both moved me and raised my eyebrows. Campbell has created a stunning vision of a world where people are free and thriving outside of their pasts, and I wish I could have spent more time there. Gorgeously written.

[Books Amongst Friends · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 rounded up.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to really put into words the energy that this book contains. To state simply, this book could read as one of discovery, found family, and even adventure. But honestly, Sky Full of Elephants is so much more. After an unforeseen event in which white people have all drowned themselves, Sidney finds herself even more lost and unknown than she ever felt before. We then enter a journey of a once imprisoned man, now a Howard University professor named Charlie, as he ventures out for redemption and purpose after being contacted by Sidney, his biracial daughter, who only sees him as her last resort.

Sidney aches for what she’s lost, as her connection to whiteness has been gravely severed. Charlie craves a purpose outside of himself, and in Sidney, he sees both hope and pain. This book will definitely ruffle some feathers, but it’s a conversation that’s necessary. It’s not only a book of pride and resilience but also one of sacrifice and community. It presents the toll and weight of years of misinformation and lies on not only an individual, but on a culture, a people.

Sky Full of Elephants is a story that should be read by everyone. It will spark conversations that are hard to have. Campbell dissects so much of mixed identity and experience. Every character has such depth that makes them feel both firm and unique while yet so connected. And as a Black woman, reading about Sidney’s experiences and tone irritated me—intentionally so. I wanted to shake her and hold her. From her teen angst, disillusion, loss of identity—I was frustrated because we all know a Sidney. Though painful and hurtful, I grieved for her. I grieved her loss of self, her loss of security, her mistaken identity, and the shame that she’s carried. And through that grief, I was able to enjoy every moment of connection and pride Sidney discovered along the way.

While Charlie’s path at times felt a little more predictable, his passion and heart shone through. Campbell’s prose captivates and urges you to push forward. It’s one of grief, anger, understanding, and identity. It’s magnetic and powerful in every moment of vibrancy that Campbell has captured. The narrative and scenes are rich in culture, determination, and care. To say I loved this book down would be an understatement.

Thank you to NetGalley, Simon & Schuster, and most of all Cebo Campbell. This met all my expectations.

[Tiffany · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is incredible. The writing is beautiful. The plot intriguing. The characters are heartfelt and awe inspiring. I loved every single word.

[Emily · Rating 2 out of 5]

Three stars, knocked down to two stars because Sidney left Fula in Orange Beach. She just drove away! I thought she was going to drive around in the truck and have big feelings for an hour and then come back and get him but she abandoned him in Whitepeoplesville overnight and forever. Sidney... Sidney! There is one place left where young Black men are still not safe in America, and Sidney just drove away like, "See ya, unresolved plot line!"

Charles, in the king's bedroom: "Don't do the thing!"
Nona: "Charles, it is your choice whether to do the thing."
Charles: "I'm going to do the thing!"

I'm writing this the week after the 2024 election and all us white people can walk into the sea any day now. The true and inevitable alternative is that climate change is going to bring the sea to the white people because of what we've wrought. The tragedy is that everybody else is going in the sea too.

But the premise of this book, that white people walk purposefully into the sea, leaving all the other peoples of America? North America? parts of North and South America? to live their best life and reinvent the world without capitalism! Love it!

I was interested in the way that systems would be maintained in the absence of white people, because I've met equal amounts of people of color and fat white guys named Dave in the water treatment industry, but Sky Full of Elephants in not science fiction in the sense that the author doesn't get into the science of what's happening.

There's a dearth of skilled workers, and Charles, who understands systems, is a professor at Howard because he's needed. But then his daughter whom he's never met, contacts him, and Charles drives to Wisconsin to get Sidney, who needs a ride to Orange Beach, AL because her aunt left a note saying that she should come. This scenario is already kind of a mess. Sidney lives in Oshkosh, WI and hasn't left her family's property since her family walked into the lake. (Where is Sidney's drinking water coming from?) She’s been home for a year, but her aunt didn't wait for Sidney to come down and open the door so they could go to Alabama together? It's not like her aunt had a lot of options for traveling companions. Also, of course Sidney is traveling to Alabama to be with her aunt. Sidney alone in Wisconsin has no way of knowing that Orange Beach is the wannabe white people colony except her aunt’s cryptic note, until people in Mobile tell her, but then she’s blamed for wanting to be with the wannabe whites. And she does? Or does she? Suddenly Sidney wants to immerse herself in a white tourist town. Or does she? Her motivations are a mess.

(The author gets Wisconsin wrong. It's not the vibe. There's an underestimation of the number of lakes. And Sidney's aunt is a woman from a Southern country club. A Wisconsin aunt could never talk like that.)

Sidney and Charles make their way to Chicago, because who knows what the EV charging station situation is like on the way to Alabama. Chicago is a bustling, beautiful, bountiful borough with a functioning airport and enough Black pilots that Charles finds the rogue one and makes a deal with him: Sailor will fly Charles and Sidney as close as he can to Alabama, and Charles will help Sailor steal a tanker full of airplane fuel so that Sailor can commandeer an airport. Deal. We're definitely on a road trip/quest here. Except after the plane lands, our heroes get kidnapped and taken to Mobile, AL to meet the king and queen. It’s not a quest anymore and nothing new happens. It's convenient when you get to a new place and you immediately get accepted into the royal court and your new FWB lets you stay in her room. Beats apartment hunting.

Sidney just does not develop as a character. She goes from outright racism all the time to the racism flaring up occasionally, but as far as being a person, she reads as too authentic for fiction and too boring for fiction. She's nineteen. She is so nineteen. She is entirely the kind of person that would read the Dharma Bums and start getting really into Buddhism if she'd gone to college and not watched her family die in a lake. The author spends too much time in Sidney's head but he doesn't know enough about nineteen year old girls questioning their identity for Sidney's thoughts to seem interesting on paper. Sidney reacts. She admires herself in the mirror. She has a crush on a boy. She makes friends with kids her age. She's nineteen. And when she gets in that truck... why would Charlie assume that the radio machine would bring her home? She's a nineteen year old kid with twenty minutes of driving practice and she drove off angry. Ocam's Razor says she's in a ditch somewhere. Her end of the story isn't an end. The end is when she drives back to Mobile and everyone's worried sick about her, except Fula whose truck she stole. What is the end? Is Raymond's theory correct? Why did Charles choose to turn on the machine again? Why was there so much exposition with no answers? What's happening in Europe? What's happening in Africa? Is Zu planning on staying in Mobile? They seemed to like being a flight attendant. Why monarchy? Is this monarchy hereditary? Why abolish capitalism and bring back monarchy?

J. said the first novel is like the first waffle. I would happily read Cebo Campbell's next book.

[Tori · Rating 2 out of 5]

I hated this for a lot of reasons so let’s discuss.

First of all it’s not especially well written.

Second of all it’s an inherently racist narrative. Another reviewer mentioned that this story isn’t written for black people and I absolutely agree. I’m not even convinced it’s written BY a black person but starting unsubstantiated rumors on goodreads isn’t really my bag so we’ll move on but let me just say that this is complete coonery.

Campbell paints the VAST majority of the black populace with a wide and dripping brush. Because of course if black people were in charge there would only be grits and chicken for sale and everyone would be playing dominos and spades. Of course the entire government and every single infrastructure would come to a complete halt. Because there are no black people in government or STEM fields. Obviously.

The idea that there’s only one enclave in the ENTIRE COUNTRY offering real aid to people is so wildly absurd when there are so many black run organizations working with people to educate each other on things like nutrition, agriculture and mental health. It’s just ignorant and honestly sort of offensive. Especially when you consider how difficult it is to even get into the Kingdom in the first place.

Sidney is irritating to the nth degree and felt like a mouthpiece for the author if I’m going to be honest. I’ve been an angry nineteenth year old biracial girl but holy fuck shut UP. If I was ever as uneducated and annoying as she was then I’m using this space as a public apology for anyone who had to deal with me. I GET not fully embracing your blackness. I GET not being able to fully fit in with your community. But what I don’t get and can’t excuse is her absolute unwillingness to say “huh, maybe I’M in the wrong, maybe I was raised in a biased household and need to reflect on why my beliefs are xyz when I have no proof to back them up and am actually being shown that they are blatantly false.” Except I guess she does, when she finds -noises of shock and surprise- a black man attractive. THEN she stops to consider that maybe they’re not all disgusting monsters and might be worthy of humanity.

I’m not saying a country without white people would be a utopia. I’m just saying it would be a hell of a lot closer to one than this author seems to think. Because whatever was going on here? Foolishness.

I also want to know more about the world in general? Like as glad as I am this is over I do have questions which I will Not be enumerating here because this is already too long and honestly they don’t matter.

TL;DR? This book is trash and not “brimming with heart and humor” like the synopsis says. I hope all the white people that will read this to tick off their diversity read of the year enjoy it cause I sure as shit did not

[The Bookish Elf · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Daring Debut That Reimagines Race and Identity

Imagine waking up one day to find that half the population has simply... vanished. Not through war or disease, but through a mysterious, almost supernatural event. Now imagine that the vanished half corresponds exactly to those who identified as white. This is the premise of Cebo Campbell's audacious debut novel "Sky Full of Elephants," a work that deftly blends elements of speculative fiction, magical realism, and social commentary to create a uniquely compelling narrative.

Set in a radically altered America one year after this cataclysmic event, Campbell's novel doesn't just ask "what if?" - it plunges headfirst into the "what now?" The result is a story that is by turns haunting, hopeful, and deeply human, exploring the complexities of race, identity, and connection in a world turned upside down.

A Father-Daughter Odyssey Across a Changed Landscape

At the heart of "Sky Full of Elephants" is the relationship between Charlie Brunton, a Black man wrongfully imprisoned for years, and his estranged daughter Sidney, who is biracial. Their journey across this new America serves as both a literal and metaphorical exploration of identity, belonging, and the weight of history.

Charlie, now a professor at Howard University, receives an unexpected call from Sidney, who has been living in isolation since watching her white mother and step-family walk into a lake, never to return. This phone call sets in motion a cross-country trip that will challenge everything they thought they knew about themselves and each other.

Characters That Breathe and Bleed

Campbell's greatest strength lies in his ability to create characters that feel achingly real. Charlie is a man grappling with years of injustice and lost time, trying to find his place in a world that suddenly seems to have more space for him. Sidney, on the other hand, is caught between two worlds, belonging fully to neither. Their interactions are fraught with tension, misunderstanding, and the tentative hope of connection.

The supporting cast is equally vivid. From Ethel, the enigmatic woman Charlie meets on his journey, to the inhabitants of Mobile, Alabama - now a thriving Black utopia under the rule of King Hosea and Queen Vivian - each character adds depth and texture to the narrative.

A Transformed America: Both Familiar and Strange

One of the most captivating aspects of "Sky Full of Elephants" is Campbell's vision of this altered America. He doesn't shy away from the practical realities of such a massive demographic shift - abandoned towns, disrupted supply chains, the reorganization of power structures. But he also infuses this new world with a sense of possibility and magic.

The Kingdom of Alabama, in particular, stands out as a fascinating creation. Here, Campbell imagines a society built on African and African American traditions, where technology and spirituality blend seamlessly. It's a place of both wonder and unease, challenging Sidney's perceptions and forcing Charlie to confront his own beliefs about identity and belonging.

Themes That Resonate and Provoke
The Weight of History and the Possibility of Change

Throughout the novel, Campbell grapples with the long shadow cast by America's racial history. The disappearance of white Americans doesn't erase centuries of oppression and injustice. Instead, it creates a space for reckoning and reimagining. Characters struggle with internalized racism, the complexities of mixed-race identity, and the challenge of building a truly equitable society.

The Power of Connection and Community

At its core, "Sky Full of Elephants" is a story about finding one's place in the world. Charlie and Sidney's journey is not just about physical distance, but about bridging the emotional gulf between them. The novel explores how shared experiences - even traumatic ones - can forge bonds and create new forms of kinship.

The Nature of Identity in a Changing World

Campbell poses challenging questions about the nature of race and identity. In a world where whiteness has literally vanished, what does it mean to be Black? How do mixed-race individuals like Sidney navigate this new landscape? The novel doesn't offer easy answers, instead inviting readers to grapple with these complex issues alongside the characters.

A Prose Style That Sings

Campbell's writing is a revelation. His prose is lyrical and evocative, capable of rendering both the harsh realities of this changed world and its moments of transcendent beauty. Consider this passage describing Charlie's first encounter with the vibrant community of Mobile:

"Music blessed the air. Fela took Sidney by the hand, and, together, they skipped down the dunes toward the water, kicking off their shoes along the way, moonlight reflecting off the crush of white caps splaying out onto the shore.

A great bonfire gave the night a golden sheen. Dozens gathered around, music soaring and fireworks bursting, making a scene that looked as wild as it did irresistible."

The author has a particular gift for describing the intangible - the feeling of connection, the weight of history, the spark of possibility. This talent elevates "Sky Full of Elephants" from an interesting thought experiment to a deeply felt, emotionally resonant work.

Magical Realism Meets Social Commentary

While firmly rooted in the speculative fiction genre, "Sky Full of Elephants" incorporates elements of magical realism that add depth and wonder to the narrative. The mysterious "radio" in Alabama that can tap into Black consciousness, the almost supernatural way the cataclysmic event unfolds - these elements blur the line between the real and the fantastical, creating a world that feels both familiar and strange.

This approach allows Campbell to explore weighty themes with a light touch. The magical elements serve as metaphors for the complexities of race and identity, allowing readers to engage with difficult subjects in a way that feels fresh and thought-provoking.

A Few Minor Stumbles

While "Sky Full of Elephants" is an impressive debut, it's not without its flaws. The pacing can be uneven at times, particularly in the middle section of the book. Some readers may find the shift to the Kingdom of Alabama jarring, as it introduces a host of new characters and concepts relatively late in the narrative.

Additionally, while Campbell's prose is generally a strength, there are occasional moments where it veers into overwrought territory. These are minor quibbles, however, in a novel that is otherwise so assured and compelling.

A Worthy Addition to the Canon of Speculative Fiction

"Sky Full of Elephants" invites comparison to other works of speculative fiction that use fantastical premises to explore real-world issues. Fans of Colson Whitehead's "The Underground Railroad" or Ta-Nehisi Coates' "The Water Dancer" will find much to appreciate here. Campbell's novel also shares DNA with classic works like Octavia Butler's "Kindred," using elements of science fiction and fantasy to illuminate the complexities of race in America.

What sets "Sky Full of Elephants" apart is its focus on the aftermath of a world-changing event, rather than the event itself. By setting the story a year after the disappearance, Campbell is able to explore how society might reorganize itself, for better and worse, in the wake of such a massive shift.

A Promising Debut That Lingers in the Mind

Cebo Campbell's "Sky Full of Elephants" is a remarkable first novel, one that announces the arrival of a major new voice in speculative fiction. It's a book that challenges readers, not just with its premise, but with its probing questions about identity, community, and the possibility of change.

This idea of a "sky full of elephants"—of unseen but powerful forces shaping our world—serves as a perfect metaphor for the themes Campbell explores throughout the novel. It's an image that lingers long after the final page is turned, inviting readers to look at their own world with fresh eyes.

For readers seeking thought-provoking speculative fiction that doesn't shy away from big ideas, "Sky Full of Elephants" is a must-read. It's a novel that will spark conversations, challenge assumptions, and maybe - just maybe - change the way you see the world around you.

[Shahara’Tova · Rating 3 out of 5]

When I first began reading, I was intrigued. Writers have written about a world without whiteness and white people before, but I wondered how the author would tackle this concept. The best part of this book is the first 50-100 pages. In a version of a post-apocalypse, black people are surviving and thriving in a new life without racism and oppression. There’s community building and a love of neighbors. However, the main character is confronted with a perplexing issue in this new America: he has a daughter he’s never met who wants him to drive her to Orange Beach where she is told people like her still exist. White people. White presenting, bi-racial people. Ultimately, this story boils down to a biracial child who is fighting against her blackness and longing for whiteness and white society that doesn’t exist, if it ever really did. Once the premise of the story became clear, the novelty of the plot started to wear thin almost immediately. Traveling from the Midwest to the Deep South, the writer crafts images of blackness that is both resilient and resigned. There’s even a character with a different identity who is accepted by his father and becomes a good friend. His time in the book isn’t nearly enough though. All of the conversations and interactions are an effort to prove or rather convince this child that her family and blackness is good enough and special. She doesn’t need to seek out a facade in Orange Beach. It gets old really fast.

The majority of the action centers Mardi Gras in Mobile, Al which sets itself up as the new black Utopia with a King and Queen that the outside world fears, but they really are the cause of the “event” in the first place. There are some flashbacks to an earlier period when the King and Queen are in Haiti and when they first come to Mobile, but those connections aren’t clear until later in the book. In the end, the closer to the end of the book you get, the more the racial identity crisis wears on the reader. This is one of those books that you can either love or hate, but ultimately there’s too much flowery language, dragging plot, and diversions that ultimately distract from the story.

I left the book wondering why the book ended the way it did, with father and daughter still estranged yet “connected through thoughts? , but I also didn’t need this story to tell me that blackness is powerful and beautiful and enough. In the end, there are some great moments in the book, but it wasn’t enough for me.

[Imani · Rating 5 out of 5]

When I stumbled upon a recommendation of Sky Full of Elephants on socials, the premise immediately grabbed my attention. Cebo Campbell’s debut novel imagines an America where the white population has vanished, and we follow Charlie Brunton, a former inmate turned professor, as he reconnects with his estranged daughter, Sidney. Their journey unfolds against a backdrop of self-actualization, trauma, and the complexities of Black identity, making it a thought-provoking exploration of what happens when whiteness is no longer the focal point.

This is not just another speculative fiction piece; it’s a bold narrative that challenges the status quo. While my first read this year on a similar theme was Maura Cheeks’ Acts of Forgiveness, both books reimagine futures for Black people in America separated from the oppressive hands of systemic racism. I appreciated the timely references to Haiti and its people, which, although not a direct response to current xenophobic narratives, highlight the strength and rich history of Haitian culture.

There’s so much to celebrate about this book, from its perceptively radical themes to Campbell’s courage in tackling uncomfortable truths. Thank you to Simon & Schuster for gifting me a copy of this powerful debut. It’s a story that lingers long after the last page.

[Nik Maack · Rating 1 out of 5]

I bought the book because the premise was interesting. What would the world be like if all the white people in the world suddenly killed themselves? The answer this novel postulates: everything would be much better.

The novel mostly takes place one year after The Event. And most of the black people are actually much happier because now all of their oppressors are dead. You can go to the airport to catch a flight. There are no airlines. And you might have to wait a few days, but you can get a flight for free. Because people fly planes now for the love of flying. Uh... What?

Our main character Charlie was in prison when The Event happened. Suddenly all the guards were gone. The prisoners got out because families came and broke down the prison walls to save them.

Uh, excuse me? I have a question. What happened to the white people in prison? In this novel, there aren't any. It's not even raised as a possibility.

The reason everyone is happy now, with the white people dead, is because they are closer to their magic black spiritual connection to the earth. See, the reason the event happened is because a guy (the king of Alabama) made a machine that connects black people to their black energy and that made white people feel shitty and they all killed themselves. By walking into water and drowning.

I've read a few other reviews of this book that say the novel is meant to make you feel uncomfortable. That, they say, is the point.

What the reviewers don't address is that the book is profoundly dull. There's a lot of characters that talk at great length about black energy and knowing who you are and living in harmony with people. And it's so very boring. Utopia is dull. Characters struggling to understand and accept utopia is boring. A lot of this book is so very dull.

Sidney is half white and sometimes she wants to identify as white. Other times she has a mystical black experience and she wants to embrace her blackness. Because someone gave her a magic bath and then she could see her own beauty. Charlie, her father, also has a magic bath that gives him a flashback to his childhood. Magic baths? What? Yup. Magic baths.

I have seen reviewers justify all this by saying the book is "magic realism". Is it, though? The tone wobbles all over the place. The writing is painful. And much of it is super vague and inconsistent.

By the way. The book tells us there's no such thing as the white race. White is an idea. Which is confusing because all the white people killed themselves. You know, pink skinned humans. So if white is an idea, why did ALL the pink people die?

This book is the sort of novel where you either turn a blind eye to all the ridiculousness of it, or you put it down with a sigh and say, am I really expected to take any of this seriously?

All the white people died. But some parts of the country still use money. Which makes no sense because there would be a lot of money floating around so everyone would be rich so... Why would money have any value?

All the white people drowned themselves. Charlie ends up in the utopia of Alabama. When he's asked what he thinks of it, he says, "I can't explain it. Maybe there's something in the water."

For the life of me, I can't tell if the author made this joke on purpose, or if he didn't realize what he'd just said. Because throughout the book there's talk of beaches, water, lakes, the ocean being enormous cemeteries and things of horror. But many times this is just forgotten. Oh well. All the white people are dead. I guess that's just life now. I guess that's what happens when you get in touch with mystical black energy.

Fun theory: the book does have a lot of praise for marijuana and its mystical natural energy. Because nothing that comes from nature can be bad. If I had to guess, a lot of this book was inspired by getting high. Because a lot of it reads like a loose cluster of pipe dreams that do not hold together.

I cannot recommend this book and I honestly don't know why anyone would give it a positive review.

[Zana · Rating 3 out of 5]

I didn't realize this was more lit fic than genre fic, so that's on me.

But besides that, I loved Sidney's journey and internal conflict with being biracial. It was both frustrating and enlightening (speaking as someone with no firsthand experience).

I also liked Charlie's journey at the end, when he realizes what it means to be Black without having to juxtapose it against Whiteness.

[Caomhghain · Rating 2 out of 5]

Full of long, long preachings and pontifications, inconsequential plot lines, more of a wish fulfillment than a fantasy, characters who are all goody two shoes with extra icing and so on.

[Rachel the Page-Turner · Rating 4 out of 5]

Charles Brunton is our main character in this speculative science fiction novel. Twenty years ago, he was wrongfully convicted of a horrific crime and was imprisoned until a strange phenomenon occurred: every white person in America went into the closest body of water, and drowned themselves. Family members of people left in jails and prisons came to let everyone go, so Charles is now a free man. Despite his lack of formal education, he is now a professor at Howard University in Washington, D.C., using his ability to fix things to help this new society thrive.

A year after the country changed, his daughter Sidney calls him. She watched her white mother, stepdad and stepbrothers walk into water; she tried to drown herself too, but couldn’t. She hasn’t left their house since everything happened, but her aunt left her a note saying that people were heading to Orange Beach, Alabama, and that she hoped Sidney would join. This led to her calling Charles, angrily telling him that he owes her for abandoning her, and insists he drive her from Wisconsin to Alabama - despite Charles warning her that the south was a dangerous place to be.

Some cities, like D.C. and Chicago, are still running relatively smoothly, but other cities have changed. The country’s Infrastructure is bad in places, as cars were left on roads. There is no government, no military and no homeless - plenty of houses now sit empty. After a scary encounter on the road, Charles and Sidney decide to fly, but find out at airport that Alabama is a no-fly zone, as they are now a monarchy and the king doesn’t allow planes to fly over. Most places in the south are considered too dangerous to fly into, but they find a pilot who is willing to take them to the Mississippi/Alabama border in search of jet fuel to keep his planes airborne. They were caught coming into Alabama and were brought to Mobile, where they meet the king, Hosea, and his queen wife, Vivian. They are stunned by the beautiful and peaceful city full of history and hoodoo, and begin finding their roots.

This book was so poetic and beautifully written; it’s hard sometimes to describe sci-fi without it sounding cheesy, but this was quite an interesting read. It did get slow in a few places, and dipped into some fantasy along the way, but overall I thought this was really unique. 3.5 stars, rounded up.

(Thank you to Simon & Schuster, Cebo Campbell and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for my review.)