collapse

In witnessing this wreckage here in the South, and tracing the lines from our storms to our prisons, I finally understand Octavia Butler’s Parables not as prophecy, but as an autopsy. Butler’s scalpel laid bare, in her time, the corpse of our present—a South where unceasing disaster is not an exception, but an expectation.

Read more via Scalawag: The Parables Are an Autopsy.


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