Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson Review

Charmaine Wilkerson, an American writer with Jamaican roots now living in Italy, brings a vibrant multicultural lens to her debut novel, Black Cake, published in 2022. A former journalist whose short fiction has appeared in various anthologies, Wilkerson crafts a multigenerational saga that became a New York Times bestseller and a Read with Jenna Book Club pick. The novel follows estranged siblings Byron and Benny Bennett as they unravel their mother Eleanor’s hidden past through a voice recording and a Caribbean black cake left after her death. Spanning decades and continents—from the Caribbean to London to California, the story weaves

weaves together secrets, betrayals, and resilience. The book’s central thesis argues that personal and cultural histories, often buried under silence and societal pressures, shape identity and relationships, yet offer paths to reconciliation.

This work is a wake-up call to face the ground reality of untold family stories, making it a must-read for anyone exploring heritage and belonging in a world of migration and cultural blending. Its rich storytelling and universal themes resonate deeply, especially for Indian readers navigating their own complex identities.

Black Cake is a character-driven, multigenerational tale centered on Eleanor Bennett’s legacy, revealed after her death in present-day California. Her children, Byron and Benny, estranged for years, inherit a black cake—a family recipe steeped in tradition—and a voice recording that unveils Eleanor’s life as Covey, a young swimmer from the Caribbean. The narrative shifts between past and present, tracing Eleanor’s journey from her island home to London and America, while the siblings work to mend their fractured bond.

The story opens with Byron’s frustration toward Benny, absent for years: “Byron has not seen Benny in eight years. And, now, their ma is gone for good” (Wilkerson, 2022, p. 3). Eleanor’s recording reveals a life of escape and reinvention: “The heartbreaking tale Eleanor unfolds, the secrets she still holds back” challenge the siblings’ view of their roots (p. 13). As Covey, Eleanor flees her island under suspicion of murder: “A headstrong young swimmer who escapes her island home under suspicion of murder” (p. 13). Her father’s debts force her into an unwanted marriage: “Covey, an abandoned child. One because her mother ran away and left her with her father” (p. 223).

In London, Covey reinvents herself, facing racial and cultural barriers: “More people’s lives have been shaped by violence than we like to think” (p. 97). She builds a new life, but secrets linger: “Sometimes, the stories we don’t tell people about ourselves matter even more than the things we do say” (p. 97). The black cake symbolizes heritage: “Every time his mother made a black cake, it must have been like reciting an incantation” (p. 247). Byron, an oceanographer, faces racial profiling: “They were subjected to discrimination and racial profiling, even violence” (p. 66). Benny struggles with her identity: “Never mind all that talk about societal rejection and discrimination and whatnot” (p. 46).

Eleanor’s recording discloses a lost child, reshaping the siblings’ understanding of family: “The mystery of a long-lost child challenge everything the siblings thought they knew” (p. 13). Themes of betrayal and forgiveness emerge: “I have lived long enough to see that my life has been determined not only by the meanness of others but also by the kindness of others” (p. 97). Covey’s friend Bunny provides support: “If Covey moved like a dolphin, then Bunny was like one those giant turtles” (p. 222). The siblings confront their estrangement: “Can Byron and Benny reclaim their once-close relationship?” (p. 13).

The novel’s vignette-like chapters reflect memory’s fragmented nature: “We are all little bits granulated from far, far bigger bits” (p. 97). Environmental themes, like ocean conservation, tie into Byron’s work: “For example, environmental issues get a strong nod in the story” (p. 97). The black cake anchors the family’s history: “Black cake is traditional in the Caribbean. It continues the uniqueness of Wilkerson’s writing” (p. 174). The story concludes with the siblings uncovering Eleanor’s truth: “The cake plays a central role in helping the siblings discover their history” (p. 66), fulfilling her wish: “Share the black cake when the time is right” (p. 13).

The novel’s greatest strength is its evocative, character-driven narrative, bringing Eleanor’s complex life to vivid reality. Wilkerson’s prose, sharp yet heartfelt, captures the weight of migration and secrecy: “Sometimes, the stories we don’t tell people about ourselves matter even more than the things we do say” (Wilkerson, 2022, p. 97). The short, vignette-like chapters create a rhythm that feels like a friend sharing a family tale over coffee, keeping readers hooked despite the sprawling cast: “Wilkerson provides short chapters which are character driven, with multiple narratives and backstories” (p. 97).

The thematic richness shines, particularly in exploring identity and heritage. The black cake is a potent symbol of cultural continuity, much like a family recipe for kheer in Indian homes: “Every time his mother made a black cake, it must have been like reciting an incantation” (p. 247). This resonates with Indian readers who cherish traditions passed down through generations. Wilkerson’s journalistic background adds authenticity, weaving social issues like racial profiling into Byron’s story: “They were subjected to discrimination and racial profiling, even violence” (p. 66). Her global perspective, spanning the Caribbean, London, and California, mirrors India’s diaspora: “Families carry the reader to places including London, California, and the Caribbean” (p. 174).

The novel’s challenge to societal biases is compelling, urging readers to rethink identity: “Wilkerson uses one Caribbean American family’s extraordinary tale to probe universal issues of identity” (p. 332). This aligns with India’s diverse society, where caste and religion shape perceptions. The emotional focus on family reconciliation, with the siblings rebuilding their bond, feels universal: “Can Byron and Benny reclaim their once-close relationship?” (p. 13), echoing Indian values of family unity.

The novel’s ambition, covering race, identity, and environmental issues, sometimes sacrifices depth: “This book was trying to cover too many topics. It went wide instead of deep” (p. 97). Indian readers, used to focused family dramas, might find this scattered, especially with Benny’s identity struggles underexplored: “Never mind all that talk about societal rejection and discrimination and whatnot” (p. 46). The many characters with similar names—Byron, Benny, Bert, Bunny, Bennett—can confuse: “There were way, WAY too many B names: Byron, Bert, Benny, Bunny, Bennett” (p. 97), a hurdle for readers who prefer clear distinctions.

Heavy foreshadowing reduces suspense: “The use of foreshadowing was also too heavy because I could foresee each and every reveal” (p. 97), potentially lessening engagement for Indian readers expecting a gripping mystery. The Caribbean and Western focus limits connections to Indian contexts, where migration often ties to caste or economic survival. Intersectional dynamics, like gender’s role in Eleanor’s choices, could be deeper: “The heartbreaking tale Eleanor unfolds, the secrets she still holds back” (p. 13). Wilkerson’s journalistic style, while clear, occasionally feels more factual than emotive: “In the section About the Author, it mentions that Charmaine Wilkerson is a former journalist. That would explain it” (p. 97), which might dilute the emotional pull for some.

Why Indian Youth Readers Must Read This Book

Indian youth, navigating intense competition, societal expectations, and cultural shifts, will find Black Cake a powerful reflection of their own journeys. The story of displacement resonates with those moving from small towns to cities like Mumbai or abroad for education and jobs: “More people’s lives have been shaped by violence than we like to think” (Wilkerson, 2022, p. 97). This echoes India’s history of partition and modern migration, where leaving home often means reinventing oneself.

The pressure to conform, whether to family expectations or societal norms, often overshadows personal stories. Eleanor’s hidden past, revealed through her recording, mirrors how Indian youth balance family legacies with modern demands: “Sometimes, the stories we don’t tell people about ourselves matter even more than the things we do say” (p. 97). The novel challenges rigid identities, like those tied to caste or religion, encouraging youth to forge their own paths: “I have lived long enough to see that my life has been determined not only by the meanness of others but also by the kindness of others” (p. 97). This is a wake-up call to question pressures, like pursuing “safe” careers in engineering or government jobs, and embrace individuality.

The black cake, a symbol of heritage, connects to how Indian families pass down traditions, like recipes for samosas or festivals like Diwali: “Every time his mother made a black cake, it must have been like reciting an incantation” (p. 247). For youth facing job market challenges, where qualifications do not always secure jobs, the novel’s focus on resilience inspires. Eleanor’s reinvention after fleeing her island parallels Indian families starting anew in urban centers: “We are all little bits granulated from far, far bigger bits” (p. 97).

The siblings’ journey to reconnect hits home for Indian youth balancing family duties with personal dreams: “Can Byron and Benny reclaim their once-close relationship?” (p. 13). In a society where expectations, like arranged marriages or upholding family honor, can feel heavy, the novel’s message of forgiveness is powerful. Benny’s struggle with rejection reflects those who defy norms, like choosing creative careers: “Never mind all that talk about societal rejection and discrimination and whatnot” (p. 46).

The global journey, from the Caribbean to London, speaks to Indian youth studying abroad or in urban hubs, where feeling like an outsider is common: “Families carry the reader to places including London, California, and the Caribbean” (p. 174). The call to share the black cake, “Share the black cake when the time is right” (p. 13), urges youth to honor their past while shaping their future. Black Cake is like a friend sharing a story over chai, encouraging Indian youth to embrace their heritage while navigating a world that demands constant adaptation. It is a must-read for young Indians finding their place in a diverse, ever-changing nation.

Black Cake is a vibrant debut, weaving identity, heritage, and reconciliation into a rich narrative, with lines like “We are all little bits granulated from far, far bigger bits” (Wilkerson, 2022, p. 97) capturing its depth. Its strengths—vivid storytelling, thematic richness, and global scope—outshine its flaws, like an overly broad focus and narrative clutter. Highly recommended for readers interested in migration, family secrets, and cultural traditions, it offers a poignant lens on the ground reality of inherited histories in a fragmented world.