This Novel Argues Your Real Family Might Not Be Blood At All

Tayari Jones's latest novel, Kin, dives headfirst into a concept that might make your holiday dinner table a bit awkward: the idea that "kin" isn't just about who shares your DNA. According to Jones, kin is the family you get from your mothers — plural, because sometimes life just hands you a few.

Jones, a Radcliffe fellow, recently unpacked her book during a virtual talk, describing Kin as a story about "the things we inherit and carry through the women in our biological families, but also the women in our lives." Which, if you think about it, is both a profound observation and an excellent argument for befriending more interesting women.

The novel follows Annie and Vernice, two Black girls navigating motherless childhoods in Jim Crow Louisiana. Vernice's mother was killed; Annie's left. Despite forming a bond so tight it could probably hold a small car together, their paths diverge, only to — you guessed it — eventually reconnect. Because that's how life, and good novels, tend to work.

Jones challenges the notion that "chosen family" is merely a backup plan, a consolation prize when your biological squad isn't cutting it. "I believe we all need chosen family," she states. Let that satisfyingly blunt truth sink in.

Secrets, Laughter, and Dignity

As the story unfolds, Annie goes searching for her mother, while Vernice heads off to college and gets married. Both women grapple with the relentless realities of racism and classism, all while fumbling through romantic relationships and the general chaos of adulthood. Their friendship, much like real life, oscillates between moments of profound connection and stretches where they hold back, evolving separately before finding their way back to each other.

Take Vernice, for instance. She struggles when a same-sex relationship challenges her worldview. While Annie openly shares her first love, Vernice tucks this part of her life away from her best friend. Jones explains this as a core theme: how much of ourselves we truly let others see. "Every secret you hold is a withholding of intimacy, and every secret disclosed creates intimacy," she notes. So, maybe tell your best friend about that weird thing you did.

Despite the very real hardships faced by her characters, Jones infused Kin with plenty of humor. She found herself laughing out loud while writing it, pushing back against the idea that Black narratives must always be steeped in misery. Because even in the toughest times, humans tend to find a way to crack a smile. Or at least a dry observation.

Jones knew the novel was finished when she'd answered every question about her characters. Ultimately, she believes Kin is a story about motherhood, friendship, and the quiet, fierce power of dignity. Turns out, having that is the most important thing of all.