A Chilling Tale of Family, Trauma, and the Horrors We Can’t Escape
There’s something rotten in the state of Texas.
In Rivers Solomon’s latest novel “Model Home,” the rot seeps through pristine lawns and manicured hedges, poisoning the very foundations of the American Dream. This isn’t your typical haunted house story—Solomon has crafted a searing indictment of racism, trauma, and the lies we tell ourselves about safety and belonging.
The Maxwell family thought they’d arrived when they moved into the lily-white gated community of Oak Creek Estates outside Dallas. The only Black family in the neighborhood, they were determined to stake their claim on suburban paradise. But from day one, sinister forces made it clear they weren’t welcome. As young Ezri Maxwell and her sisters Eve and Emmanuelle grew up, their house became a nightmare realm of inexplicable terrors and violations.
Now adults, the Maxwell siblings have fled as far as they can from Oak Creek Estates. But when news arrives of their parents’ shocking deaths, they’re forced to return and confront the horrors of their past. As they unravel the mystery of what really happened to their mother and father, long-buried secrets rise to the surface, threatening to destroy everything they thought they knew about their family and themselves.
Solomon, known for genre-bending works like “An Unkindness of Ghosts” and “Sorrowland,” brings their trademark lyricism and unflinching gaze to the rot at the heart of the American suburbs. “Model Home” is by turns a ghost story, a family drama, and a scathing critique of the lies we tell ourselves about race and belonging in America.
Unearthing Buried Histories
From the very first pages, Solomon plunges us into a world where nothing is quite as it seems. The prose drips with menace as Ezri returns to 677 Acacia Drive, summoned by a mysterious text from their mother:
“I step toward her. Beneath my feet—not salt as I’d thought, I can tell by the feel. It’s cracked eggshell. I know of these things from great-aunts, grandmas. Jacqueline used to rub an egg over my body after a meltdown, crack the egg in a cup. A cleanse.”
Solomon excels at creating an atmosphere of creeping dread, where everyday objects take on sinister new meanings. A washing machine becomes a portal to terror. A child’s stuffed animal watches with knowing eyes. Even the very walls of the house seem to pulse with malevolent life.
But the true horror of “Model Home” lies not in bump-in-the-night scares, but in the slow excavation of buried histories and generational trauma. As Ezri and her siblings dig into their family’s past, they’re forced to confront the ways racism and violence have shaped their lives in ways they never fully understood.
The Ghosts We Carry
Solomon’s characters are haunted in every sense of the word. Ezri in particular struggles with dissociation and multiple personalities, a fracturing of self born from childhood trauma. Their internal landscape is as treacherous as the house itself:
“I am always remembering, even when I am not. Me is in itself a remembrance. Me does not exist without the past that shaped my being. And what is there between memory and forgetting?”
The novel’s non-linear structure mirrors this fragmented psyche, jumping between past and present as memories resurface. It’s a challenging read at times, but one that rewards close attention. Solomon deftly weaves together multiple timelines and perspectives to create a rich tapestry of intergenerational pain and resilience.
The American Nightmare
At its core, “Model Home” by Rivers Solomon is an excavation of the American Dream and the nightmares that lurk just beneath its surface. The Maxwells thought moving to Oak Creek Estates would provide safety and opportunity. Instead, they found themselves trapped in a prison of their own making.
Solomon pulls no punches in their depiction of the casual cruelty and violence of white suburbia. The neighbors’ microaggressions and outright hostility are as terrifying as any supernatural force. In one particularly chilling scene, young Ezri is accused of killing the class pet, a reflection of how quickly Black children are criminalized and scapegoated.
But Solomon also indicts the very idea of assimilation and “making it” in white America. Ezri’s mother Eudora is a complicated figure, clinging to respectability even as it slowly destroys her family. Her refusal to leave the house, even in the face of mounting horrors, becomes a potent metaphor for the trap of chasing white approval.
A New Kind of Horror
Fans of haunted house classics like Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House” will find much to love in “Model Home.” But Solomon brings a fresh perspective to the genre, centering queer and Black experiences in a way that feels truly groundbreaking.
The novel’s exploration of gender identity and sexuality adds additional layers of complexity to an already rich text. Ezri’s struggle with their gender identity is seamlessly woven into the larger themes of selfhood and belonging. Solomon treats their characters’ queerness matter-of-factly, resisting the urge to make it the focal point of the story.
Breaking the Cycle
Despite its heavy themes, “Model Home” by Rivers Solomon is not without hope. The relationship between Ezri and their teenage daughter Elijah provides a glimmer of possibility for breaking cycles of trauma. Their fumbling attempts to connect and heal together are some of the most touching moments in the novel.
Solomon also offers a nuanced exploration of family bonds that persist even in the face of unimaginable pain. The Maxwell siblings’ complicated love for each other and their parents feels achingly real. There are no easy answers or neat resolutions, but there is a sense that healing – while difficult – might be possible.
A Master Class in Literary Horror
“Model Home” cements Rivers Solomon’s place as one of the most exciting voices in contemporary speculative fiction. Their prose is luminous and precise, capable of breathtaking beauty even in its darkest moments. Consider this passage describing Ezri’s fragmented psyche:
“I am an old, sputtering car engine. I am the breast of a dying bird convulsing under the beat of its drumming heart.”
Solomon’s gift for vivid, unsettling imagery brings the horrors of Oak Creek Estates to visceral life. But it’s their deep empathy for their characters that truly elevates the novel. Even the most monstrous figures are rendered with complexity and humanity.
Not for the Faint of Heart
It’s worth noting that “Model Home” deals with heavy themes including child abuse, sexual assault, and racism. Solomon doesn’t shy away from depicting trauma in sometimes graphic detail. While never gratuitous, these scenes can be challenging to read.
The novel’s non-linear structure and surreal elements may also prove difficult for some readers. Solomon demands close attention and a willingness to sit with ambiguity. But for those willing to take the journey, “Model Home” offers rich rewards.
A Haunting That Will Stay With You
“Model Home” by Rivers Solomon is not an easy read, but it is an essential one. Rivers Solomon has crafted a modern masterpiece of literary horror that will linger long after the final page. By turns terrifying, heartbreaking, and ultimately cathartic, it’s a novel that demands to be read and grappled with.
Like the best ghost stories, “Model Home” forces us to confront the specters that haunt our collective past and present. It’s a chilling reminder that the most dangerous monsters often wear friendly faces—and that true horror lies not in things that go bump in the night, but in the systems of oppression we’ve built and continue to uphold.
As Ezri muses near the novel’s end:
“Mother is God, and I am as good as this earth in my mouth, this earth I came from.
Mother is God, and I am the Garden of Eden, a paradise inhabited by lost creatures.”
In the end, “Model Home” by Rivers Solomon asks us to consider what it truly means to belong, to family and to place. It’s a question without easy answers, but one that feels more urgent than ever in our fractured times.