Leaving Atlanta – Tayari Jones

Drawing from her own childhood in Atlanta, Tayari Jones sets “Leaving Atlanta” against the backdrop of the 1979–1981 Atlanta Child Murders. Rather than focusing on the crimes themselves, she explores how fear and tragedy seep into the lives of three Black fifth graders: LaTasha Baxter, Rodney Green and Octavia Fuller.

Structured in three sections — each with a different point of view — the novel mirrors the fragmentation of childhood innocence. For a debut, Jones’ prose is immersive, her observations sharp and the slow erosion of her characters’ sense of safety masterfully handled.

Tasha’s section, written in the third person, captures the contradictions of pre-adolescence – her longing to fit in, her fear of social exile and her desire to hold onto childhood. She navigates her parents’ separation, school dynamics, and her first crush, Jashante. When he disappears, she is consumed with guilt, convinced an offhand curse caused his death.

Jones distills the mix of magical thinking and powerlessness that defines childhood grief. While Tasha’s emotional landscape is richly drawn, the sense of looming danger is sometimes overshadowed by schoolyard dramas. Still, Jones’ writing shines in the small, intimate details – the air freshener Jashante gives her, the unspoken rules of the roller rink, the way fear and loss become tangled with superstition.

Rodney’s section, written in the second person, creates a sense of distance, fitting for a quiet, sensitive boy on the fringes. His father’s violence shapes his understanding of power and survival, and while his brief friendships with Octavia and Leon offer moments of connection, they do little to protect him from crushing loneliness.

Rodney’s perspective is the novel’s most unsettling, not just because of his fate but because Jones so effectively captures his internal world — his longing to belong, his desperate rationalizations, his quiet resignation. This section, while thematically intentional, feels less cohesive than the others. But its ending is a gut punch.

Octavia’s first-person narration closes the novel, and she is arguably its most compelling character. A dark-skinned, socially ostracized girl, she is used to being unseen — until the murders make her and her classmates hyper-visible. She carries the weight of guilt from both Rodney’s disappearance and her uncle’s expulsion from their home.

Her mother, hardened and pragmatic, ultimately sends her to live with her father in South Carolina, a move meant to secure her safety but one that underscores the novel’s central theme: survival often comes with loss.

Jones excels in capturing Octavia’s world — her strained relationship with her mother, the quiet ways she asserts control, and the way she internalizes the realities of race, class, and safety. This section offers some of the novel’s most poignant moments, though the ending, while thematically fitting, feels slightly underwhelming compared to the emotional depth that precedes it.

While “Leaving Atlanta” is set during the child murders, it is not a crime novel. The killings serve as the backdrop rather than the focus. Instead, Jones explores the spectrum of Black childhood experiences in Atlanta — the middle-class aspirations of Tasha’s family, Rodney’s fragile existence in a violent household, and Octavia’s struggles with colorism and social exclusion.

At its core, the novel examines the painful unraveling of childhood innocence amid the ever-present specter of violence. A clever touch is how each character references Jones as a classmate, with the author humorously acknowledging her own adolescent awkwardness.

The audiobook, narrated by Robin Miles, Kevin R. Free, and Myra Lucretia Taylor, is an excellent way to experience this story. Each narrator brings a distinct voice and depth, capturing the confusion, fear and quiet hopes of these children with heartbreaking precision.

Reading “Leaving Atlanta,” I was struck not just by the story itself but by how Jones foreshadows the powerhouse writer she would become. Having loved “An American Marriage” in 2018, I wonder why I waited so long to return to her work.

While not without its uneven moments, this is a testament to Jones’ ability to blend personal history with fiction, elevating the struggles of Black children into something literary, urgent and deeply human.

Rating (story): 4/5 stars

Rating (narration): 4/5 stars

Format: Audiobook (library loan)

Dates read: February 8 – February 11, 2025

Multi-tasking: Okay. The long chapters help immerse you into the world of each of the narrators, but if you aren’t paying close attention to the little details, the richness of the world Jones builds will be lost.