I’ve been sitting on this review for a bit, trying to figure out how best to condense my thoughts into a relatively small space. (I’ve also been toying with the possibility of changing how I review/react, but that’s really neither here nor there.) As per usual, it’ll likely just be bookish babbling, but I encourage you to keep reading.
I’m from NC. I may have been born across the state line, but NC is my home and has been for over four decades. Never once was I told that a kingdom, with its own king and queen, a palace, subjects, treasury, and industries existed in my state. That remnants of this kingdom still exist. That ancestors of the subjects still walk those grounds. The Kingdom of the Happy Land (or just Happy Land), in Henderson County, NC, was almost erased, a whitewashed history with a legacy of stealing lives and stories. And while there has been scholarship surrounding Happy Land and interest in its history and stories has increased in recent years, I’m not sure when I would have become aware of this remarkable part of my state’s history but for Dolen Perkins-Valdez’s fictional account in Happy Land (Berkley 2025). You may recall how hard I pushed her first novel, Take My Hand (based on a real account of forced sterilization in black, brown and poor communities in the 1970s – which, considering the attention being put back on eugenics, I’d encourage everyone to read again).
There are a lot of unknowns about the kingdom, including where the former slaves came from. Some say South Carolina and others say Mississippi; Perkins-Valdez’s account has them flee the Klan in South Carolina. What I love about how Perkins-Valdez has set up the story is that it’s the story of Happy Land and its kingdom, focusing primarily on the Queen, and a present-day story of a middle-aged woman who has been summoned by her estranged grandmother to North Carolina. As the reader learns about Happy Land and its history, so does Nikki, a descendant of Queen Luella. (Luella is based on the real woman who built this kingdom and community; Nikki is the fictionalized storyline.)
It’s a story of strong women, forgotten histories, matrilineal lines and loyalties, and resilience. Part of the plot involves real property law, and this is where the novel hiccups. Ownership issues are misrepresented, possibly intentionally to create more of a villain, but the solution is not some obscure law like it is presented. My attorney brain read those sections and thought they should have been reworked to be both clear and realistic while also maintaining the integrity of her plot. (And there can be some confusion as the family would likely be confused – but an attorney shows up.) That could just be a “me problem” because I’m a licensed NC attorney – who knows.
Regardless, this is a slice of history that is remarkable and fascinating. And Perkins-Valdez has packaged it in a compelling novel with characters seeking happiness.
Read this book.
A Girl Named Tommi 