If These Wings Could Fly by Kyrie McCauley (review)

In the aftermath of Leighton’s father’s rages, there’s little proof of his anger: the house somehow heals itself, restoring damaged walls and broken doors, and her mother simply doesn’t acknowledge anything has happened at all. With only a year of high school left, Leighton wants to keep her head down and find a way to get her and her younger sisters out of the house, but her focus is disrupted by Liam, the school’s charming golden boy who is surprisingly level headed and kind. Meanwhile, people are growing increasingly tense as an ever-growing murder of crows invades the town, and when confusion turns to hostility, Leighton finds herself confronting violence and complicity in her neighbors and friends. McCauley offers just a touch of magical realism here, layering a painfully honest exploration of domestic violence with a subtle eeriness that reinforces the constant presence of Leighton’s powerlessness. Her narration is elegant and thoughtful, and often brutally honest about the complexity of toxic families: “Evil is easy to hate, but broken . . . broken can love and be loved.” The discussions between her and Liam about race and gender (Liam is Black) feel a little bit more purposive and stridently certain, but this is still a refreshing portrayal of two teens who negotiate their own challenges while acknowledging those of others. Ultimately her father is held accountable, but Leighton is well aware of the lasting marks his abuse will leave behind, for both herself and her sisters: “When the legacy is anger, the inheritance is fear.”