The Root Worker

Not since Resurrecting Mingus, have I read a book that has moved me as much as Rainelle Burton's The Root Worker.Ellen's story is a familar story, of the girl left behind. Hers is a story of physical, mental, and sexual abuse, that trancends the ordinary dysfunctional family. This unique tale is told in the voice of a girl whose voice has been muted to nearly everyone except her imaginary friend Clarissa. Even through the midst of angst and lonliness, Ellen story is vivid, uplifting, and somewhat humerous at times.Burton's done a wonderful thing in this story. She let us peep into the lives of an extraordinary, reluctant, heroine. Her imagery and symbolism is reminiscent of Alice Walker. If you want a book to read that's thoughtful, extremely well written, and even mystical, then this book will not dissapoint.

Meet Ellen. A child who many have forsaken. Her mother. Her brother. The root worker.This finely crafted novel takes you through Ellen's life a she sees it; her hope for things to change for the better. Her conflicting religious beliefs. Her pain. Her sorrow. Her triumph.The thing I enjoyed most about this book was the fact that after I read it it still lingered in my mind. I liked the fact that while I was reading my emotions were running on overtime. When something bad happened, my heart sank. When something good happened, I almost cried tears of joy. Warning: This is not a "candy read". Expect to be affected. Expect to feel the emotions and terror Ellen feels. Expect to feel your heart wrench. Expect to feel set free.From now on, I will expect nothing less.Hats off to this talented new writer on a dazzling debut.

Think Toni Morrison or Alice Walker and you have a concept of the quality of Rainelle Burton's affecting debut novel, which is based on true life events but is not autobiographical. It is 1960s Detroit, Michigan, a hard scrabble urban community where belief in voodoo is rife - the frightened go to root workers, voodoo priestesses, trading food money for cures to banish hexes. Eleven year old Ellen is a black girl whose mentally deficient mother believes the child is possessed by an evil spirit. Her father is a lackadaisical soul who doesn't protest when the Woman or mother consults a root worker who is soon all powerful in the family. Ellen finds no protection at home from the priestess's frightening directives nor from the nuns at the Catholic school she attends. It is only through the kindness of a neighbor that the young girl may be able to escape her harrowing existence and discover a life of her own. While Ms. Burton has painted a haunting reminder of a desperate community and desolate lives, "The Root Worker" is also a story of hope and the triumph of good over evil.

This is a hard book to read. Right from the start, the reader must accept the loss of hope as the road to salvation. Staying hopeful is a sure way to come to disaster.Rainelle Burton has written a beautifully evocative story about true empowerment, using the narrative voice of a young african-american girl in a sharply bifurcated world. The young protagonist, Ellen, shuttles between her home, where she lives with a brother who sexually abuses her, a mother who she may only address as "The Woman," and a weak-willed, philandering father who she knows as "The Husband," and St. Agnes, the parish school she attends, with its wimpled nuns and robed priests. However, in Ellen's world, there are no saviors in the church or school, and there are no miracles in the potions dispensed by the root worker who The Woman pays for curatives. Ellen calmly observes the dichotomies between what she believes her life might be and what it actually is throughout the story. She tries to make sense of her surroundings, searching for "glue" to hold things together, and to provide her with the safe haven she desires. The reader sees through Ellen's bruised and swollen eyes as stark episode after episode of poverty and ignorance reveal themselves. As readers, we share Ellen's pain and humiliation in the name of hope. Ellen sees her own battered face and body in a shop window and identifies the girl she sees as "Clarissa," to whom she addresses many of her observations. Clarissa is Medusa-haired, puffy-eyed, scratched, and soiled, a battered confidante for a lonely, frightened little girl. What the reader discovers is that for Ellen, as for any child trapped by poverty and abuse, the only way to survive is to stop trying to find congruence in the absurdity surrounding her. This is a remarkable book, and a remarkable outing for a first-time author. Burton's voice rings with truth, even if it's a truth we might not want to know. We can't help but admire her unflinching ability to illuminate the harsh realities of the lives in which root working still figure, and her tenderness toward Ellen. I can't wait to read Burton's next offering.

I feel as if I have waited a lifetime for someone to write this book. It's Dantesque in its reporting of someone experiencing hell, and all the more remarkable since the reporter is an eleven-year-old African American girl, Ellen. There isn't a wrong note in this story of Detroit's inner city or in the miracle of Ellen's escape and salvation. Rainelle Burton is a new voice and an absolutely true one.