Kristen L. Berry’s debut novel, We Don’t Talk About Carol, arrives like a perfectly crafted archaeological dig—methodical, revelatory, and ultimately heartbreaking. The story follows Sydney Singleton, a former crime reporter turned PR executive, who discovers a hidden photograph of her mysterious aunt Carol while cleaning out her grandmother’s house. This single image becomes the catalyst for an investigation that unearths not only family secrets but also the systemic neglect of missing Black girls in 1960s North Carolina.
Berry masterfully weaves together multiple timelines and perspectives, creating a narrative that feels both intimate and sweeping. The dual mystery structure—what happened to Carol and five other Black teenage girls who vanished between 1963 and 1965—provides the book’s compelling backbone, while Sydney’s contemporary struggles with fertility treatments and a strained marriage add emotional depth that elevates this beyond a simple cold case thriller.
Character Development and Psychological Complexity
Sydney Singleton: A Flawed but Compelling Protagonist
Sydney emerges as a fascinatingly complex character whose past trauma as a crime reporter intersects dangerously with her current obsession. Berry skillfully reveals Sydney’s history of psychological breakdown following her coverage of the McEwan case, creating tension around whether her investigation into Carol’s disappearance will trigger another mental health crisis. This psychological vulnerability adds layers of uncertainty to Sydney’s reliability as a narrator and investigator.
The author excels at portraying Sydney’s conflicted relationship with motherhood and family legacy. Her fertility struggles serve as more than mere plot device—they become a lens through which Berry examines generational trauma and the weight of family expectations. Sydney’s determination to uncover Carol’s fate feels driven by both journalistic instinct and a deeper need to understand her own place within a family marked by silence and secrets.
Supporting Characters with Authentic Voices
Berry populates her narrative with richly drawn supporting characters who feel like real people rather than plot conveniences. Malik, Sydney’s husband, represents the collateral damage of obsession—his frustration with Sydney’s investigation feels genuine and heartbreaking. The author captures the strain that passion projects can place on relationships, particularly when one partner feels perpetually secondary to external pursuits.
The surviving community members from 1960s Raleigh—Barbara, Stanley, Dorothy—speak with authentic voices that bring the historical period to life. Their memories feel lived-in and specific, from the details about friendship bracelets to the complex dynamics surrounding the charismatic yet potentially dangerous Michael and Raymond.
Narrative Structure and Pacing
Dual Timeline Mastery
Berry demonstrates impressive structural control in managing her dual timelines. The 1960s sections, revealed through Carol’s diary entries and community testimonies, create a vivid portrait of a young Black woman navigating first love, family expectations, and the dangerous undercurrents of her neighborhood. These historical sections never feel like exposition dumps but rather organic revelations that deepen our understanding of both Carol and the systemic forces that rendered her disappearance invisible.
The contemporary timeline maintains steady momentum through Sydney’s investigation, punctuated by moments of domestic tension and professional obligation that ground the story in recognizable reality. Berry’s pacing builds expertly toward the revelation that Carol is alive—a twist that feels both surprising and inevitable given the careful groundwork laid throughout the novel.
Balancing Mystery Elements with Character Development
Where many mystery novels stumble is in sacrificing character development for plot momentum. Berry avoids this trap by ensuring that each revelation about the missing girls also illuminates something essential about Sydney’s character or family dynamics. The discovery of bodies beneath Raymond’s hydrangea bush serves multiple narrative functions—advancing the mystery plot, validating Sydney’s investigative instincts, and providing closure for the grieving families.
Thematic Depth and Social Commentary
Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (MMIWG) and Missing Black Women
Berry’s most powerful achievement lies in her unflinching examination of how Black missing persons cases are systematically ignored by both media and law enforcement. The stark statistics she provides in the acknowledgments—that 36% of missing persons in America are Black despite comprising only 14% of the population—transform this fictional narrative into urgent social commentary.
The contrast between how Carol’s case is handled versus contemporary missing white women receives subtle but effective treatment. Berry doesn’t resort to heavy-handed lectures but instead allows the disparities to speak for themselves through the story’s structure and character reactions.
Generational Trauma and Family Silence
The title itself becomes a metaphor for how families handle uncomfortable truths. Grammy’s decision never to file a missing person report for Carol represents the complex ways that shame, fear, and survival instincts can silence even parental love. Berry explores how secrets metastasize across generations, affecting family members who weren’t even born when the original trauma occurred.
Sydney’s fertility struggles serve as a counterpoint to this theme of broken family lines. Her desire to create new life occurs alongside her excavation of family death and disappearance, suggesting that healing requires both acknowledging the past and actively choosing to build different futures.
Writing Style and Technical Craft
Prose Quality and Voice
Berry writes with the clean, precise style of a seasoned journalist, which perfectly suits her protagonist’s background. The prose never calls attention to itself but provides a transparent medium for the story’s emotional and investigative elements. Her descriptions of place—from Grammy’s Raleigh neighborhood to the Brooklyn brownstone where Carol lives—feel specific and atmospheric without becoming overwrought.
The author demonstrates particular skill in differentiating character voices, especially in the historical sections where community members share their memories. Each speaker feels distinct and authentic to their time period and social position.
Dialogue and Authenticity
Conversations throughout “We Don’t Talk About Carol” feel natural and purposeful. Berry avoids the common thriller trap of having characters speak purely for exposition, instead allowing dialogue to reveal character while advancing plot. The family dynamics between Sydney, Sasha, and their mother ring particularly true, capturing the specific rhythms of sibling relationships and generational tension.
Areas for Critical Examination
Convenient Coincidences
While generally well-plotted, “We Don’t Talk About Carol” occasionally relies on fortuitous discoveries that strain credibility. Sydney’s ability to track down various sources and the timing of certain revelations sometimes feel more convenient than organic. However, Berry largely earns these narrative shortcuts through the strength of her character work and thematic development.
Resolution and Emotional Payoff
The novel’s conclusion, while satisfying on a plot level, feels somewhat rushed given the careful pacing of the earlier sections. The reunion between Sydney’s family and Carol resolves decades of mystery perhaps too neatly, though this criticism is minor given the emotional weight Berry brings to these final scenes.
Literary Merit and Comparative Analysis
Genre Evolution
Berry joins a growing number of authors using crime fiction to examine social justice issues, following in the tradition of writers like Attica Locke and S.A. Cosby. However, her focus on missing persons cases rather than traditional murder mysteries allows for different kinds of social commentary, particularly around media representation and family trauma.
The novel also participates in the current trend of psychological thrillers centered on women’s domestic lives, but Berry’s inclusion of historical elements and racial dynamics distinguishes her work from more conventional domestic suspense.
Similar Reads and Recommendations
Readers who appreciate We Don’t Talk About Carol should consider:
- The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida by Shehan Karunatilaka – Another novel that uses mystery elements to examine social injustice
- The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett – Explores family secrets and racial identity across generations
- Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn – For readers interested in unreliable narrators and marital tension
- An American Marriage by Tayari Jones – Examines how systemic injustice affects Black families
- The Message by Ta-Nehisi Coates – Another work that uses family history to explore broader historical trauma
Final Assessment
We Don’t Talk About Carol succeeds brilliantly as both an engaging mystery and a meaningful social commentary. Berry has crafted a debut that respects the complexity of its subject matter while delivering the narrative satisfaction that genre readers expect. The novel’s greatest strength lies in its refusal to treat missing Black women as mere plot devices—instead, each victim receives individual attention and dignity, making their losses feel personal and urgent.
The book works on multiple levels: as a family drama about secrets and reconciliation, as a mystery about long-buried crimes, and as a social justice narrative about systemic neglect. Berry’s background in communications serves her well in balancing these different elements without allowing any single aspect to overwhelm the others.
While this is clearly a debut novel with some rough edges around pacing and coincidence, Berry demonstrates the kind of storytelling instincts and social awareness that suggest even stronger work to come. The novel’s emotional core—Sydney’s need to understand her family’s past in order to build her own future—resonates long after the mystery elements are resolved.
We Don’t Talk About Carol deserves recognition not just as an accomplished debut but as an important contribution to contemporary crime fiction’s ongoing evolution toward greater social consciousness and representational justice. Berry has given voice to the voiceless while crafting a genuinely compelling story, achieving the difficult balance that marks the best socially conscious genre fiction.
