The ‘sorry remnants of the world’

Syncopation
by Whitney French

Hamilton: Wolsak & Wynn, 2026
$24.00 / 9781998408283

Reviewed by Zoe McKenna

*

Whitney French’s new novel-in-verse, Syncopation, is a beautiful, challenging narrative made more complex by its non-traditional form.

Though Sycopation is French’s first novel-in-verse, she is no stranger to writing and editing. She edited Black Writers Matter and Griot: Six Writers Sojourn into the Dark; her work has appeared in assorted publications. A creative writing prof at UBC, French is also the co-founder and publisher of Hush Harbour, the only Black queer feminist press in Canada.

Novels-in-verse are, in essence, long, narrative-driven poems. Recent examples include the widely applauded young adult novel Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo, or my personal favourite, Grief is a Thing with Feathers by Max Porter. Novels-in-verse often include the plot and characters of a standard novel, explored with poetic form. That said, there are no hard rules in terms of structure; French makes good on her title, as Syncopation is written in blank verse that swings between paragraphs of near-prose and short stanzas dominated by blank space. 

This format won’t appeal to everyone. The genre can feel somehow both too fluid (no predictable structure or familiar flows) and too restrictive (far less time and space to get to know characters and settings in the ways we’re familiar with in traditional novels). Much like other forms of poetry, novels-in-verse can require a bit more work on behalf of the reader to reap the reward of what the story has to offer. 

With that said, with Syncopation, French feels far from confined by the form. Her story follows two women, O and Z, as they navigate life in the aftermath of a “Memory War” and an ecological disaster. Both women are travelling alone until they cross paths while seeking shelter from an acid rainstorm that strips another traveller’s skin from their bones. Needless to say, O and Z’s world is a dangerous one. In addition to acid rain and frequent earthquakes, the Memory War has divided society into distinct sects that are frequently at odds. 

O is a “Neo-Griot,” someone who stores memory through words—storytelling, music, and other oral traditions. Unfortunately for O, Neo-Griots are also known for their misuse of power and cruel participation in the Memory War. Z is an “Adorner,” a person who stores memories through textile technology, wearing them on their body like clothes or coverings. 

(There are also “Chip-Users,” people who store their memories via brain implantation, and the “Ones who use Earth Technology”—those who work with nature to store memory. Throughout the novel, French also inserts frequent interludes (“deja vus”) from “the nameless,” a mysterious group that defies categorization.)

With little love lost for ravaged Earth and the weight of her people’s war crimes on her shoulders, O’s journey leads her toward an exit: outer space. In contrast, Z wants to reunite with her family and find answers to questions that have been on her mind for some time. Though they know their paths will eventually diverge, O and Z choose to travel together for safety. Somewhere along their journey, the two women fall in love. O is so in tune with Z that she can hear the blood in her veins. It’s an all-encompassing, overwhelming type of love that is best suited to the lyrical format—so intense that it’s best delivered in small bites.

Despite this, O and Z cannot escape the long history of their people and the sorry remnants of the world they’re left to navigate. As the journey continues, their relationship is both enriched and ruined by memory, history, and the individual paths they must take forward. 

Throughout Syncopation, French demonstrates an eerie talent for weaving the known with the speculative. This is present in broad, purposeful ways when she notes on key locations, moments, and figures important to Black history. In other instances, this is more subtle. For example, in one scene titled “rainy train ride to Vancouver cont’d,” O encounters a stranger who tells her: “‘don’t look out the window […] ‘you can’t unsee the view.’” As the duo travels, O sees “a blur of a body sopping & twitching, then another sheet of rain. looking isn’t the issue. O hears their howls.” Unfortunately, this is a moment that may feel familiar to many Vancouverites; travelling in the humid bus while trying (and failing) to ignore the brutal realities of the city’s unhoused population. In O’s world, the unhoused contend with acid rain, but in ours, similar realities of the climate crisis—atmospheric rivers, blizzards, heat domes — all take their toll. 

It’s for this reason that Syncopation is ultimately a story about memory, history, and the dangers of forgetting far more than it is a story about ill-fated love in unlikely circumstances. Though O and Z’s romance is brazen and moving, it pales in comparison to the explicit horror French explores through cultural and personal memory. French writes, “we do not lapse against memory, we abstain from it actively,” and herein perhaps lies the chilling crux of what Syncopation has to offer. Over and over, French asks us to reflect on how our long legacies of memory and forgetfulness (both purposeful and unintentional) allow us to recreate harmful systems that have endured for hundreds of years and may well persist into the distant future. 

This is a heavy consideration to contend with, and one made weightier still by the novel-in-verse form. Syncopation cannot be read flippantly. As the story undulates, it asks readers to move with it, and as a result, we must come face-to-face with everything French explores.

Zoe McKenna received a MA from the UVic and a BA from VIU. Her research focuses on horror writing, with a focus on stories by women. She was the Assistant Editor of That Witch Whispers and her writing has also appeared inBlack Cat, Malahat Review, and Quill & Quire. When not at her desk, Zoe can be found haunting local bookstores and hiking trails. Zoe gratefully acknowledges that she is a guest on the traditional territory of the Puneluxutth (Penelakut) Tribe and the hul’qumi’num speaking peoples. Find her on Twitter. [Editor’s note: Zoe McKenna has reviewed recent books by Adam Parker, Emily Paxman, Guojing, Deni Ellis Béchard, W.K. Shephard, Ron Prasad, Peter Darbyshire, Richard Van Camp, Nalo Hopkinson, Marcus Kliewer, Ivana Filipovich, Giselle Vriesen, and Scott Alexander for BCR.]

*

The British Columbia Review

Interim Editors: Trevor Marc Hughes (nonfiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction and poetry)
Publisher: Richard Mackie

Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an on-line book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.

“Only connect.” – E.M. Forster