United States
![Cheryl A. Head - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B00ED4R5C0.jpg)
Time's Undoing: A Novel
A searing and tender novel about a young Black journalist's search for answers in the unsolved murder of her great-grandfather in segregated Birmingham, Alabama, decades ago-inspired by the author's own family history
Birmingham, 1929: Robert Lee Harrington, a master carpenter, has just moved to Alabama to pursue a job opportunity, bringing along his pregnant wife and young daughter. Birmingham is in its heyday, known as the "Magic City" for its booming steel industry, and while Robert and his family find much to enjoy in the city's busy markets and vibrant nightlife, it's also a stronghold for the Klan. And with his beautiful, light-skinned wife and snazzy car, Robert begins to worry that he might be drawing the wrong kind of attention.
2019: Meghan McKenzie, the youngest reporter at the Detroit Free Press, has grown up hearing family lore about her great-grandfather's murder-but no one knows the full story of what really happened back then, and his body was never found. Determined to find answers to her family's long-buried tragedy and spurred by the urgency of the Black Lives Matter movement, Meghan travels to Birmingham. But as her investigation begins to uncover dark secrets that spider across both the city and time, her life may be in danger.
Inspired by true events, Time's Undoing is both a passionate tale of one woman's quest for the truth behind the racially motivated trauma that has haunted her family for generations and, as newfound friends and supporters in Birmingham rally around Meghan's search, the uplifting story of a community coming together to fight for change.
Birmingham, 1929: Robert Lee Harrington, a master carpenter, has just moved to Alabama to pursue a job opportunity, bringing along his pregnant wife and young daughter. Birmingham is in its heyday, known as the "Magic City" for its booming steel industry, and while Robert and his family find much to enjoy in the city's busy markets and vibrant nightlife, it's also a stronghold for the Klan. And with his beautiful, light-skinned wife and snazzy car, Robert begins to worry that he might be drawing the wrong kind of attention.
2019: Meghan McKenzie, the youngest reporter at the Detroit Free Press, has grown up hearing family lore about her great-grandfather's murder-but no one knows the full story of what really happened back then, and his body was never found. Determined to find answers to her family's long-buried tragedy and spurred by the urgency of the Black Lives Matter movement, Meghan travels to Birmingham. But as her investigation begins to uncover dark secrets that spider across both the city and time, her life may be in danger.
Inspired by true events, Time's Undoing is both a passionate tale of one woman's quest for the truth behind the racially motivated trauma that has haunted her family for generations and, as newfound friends and supporters in Birmingham rally around Meghan's search, the uplifting story of a community coming together to fight for change.
Editorial Reviews
"[Head] brings her gift for strong women protagonists and suspense to this tale about a young, Black female journalist from Detroit on a dangerous quest....Vivid and affecting....This heart-seizing tale even has a touch of the supernatural as it celebrates Black lives." -Booklist (STARRED REVIEW)
"The parallel narratives work with poignancy and righteous rage. So many decades gone, so few inroads made into the racism at the foundation of United States history. Head and her Black colleagues in this genre are lifting up new stories, to everyone's benefit."-NPR
"Depicts the power of friends and community…will please the author's fans and readers who enjoy novels with strong women protagonists." -Library Journal
"Head paints a vibrant picture of present-day Birmingham… She also brings rich detail to the everyday lives of her characters in 1929. Time's Undoing is an absorbing mystery and a moving lesson in Black history as it plays out in the lives of families through generations." -Tampa Bay Times
"An outstanding stand-alone novel that excavates one woman's family history wrapped in racism, violence and legend. Head smoothly incorporates those themes in the gripping, believable plot of Time's Undoing." -South Florida Sun Sentinel
"[Time's Undoing is] the latest book to register on the "future classic seismograph" … It is Cheryl A. Head's ability to authenticate a direct (and emotional) throughline from the past to present that compel Time's Undoing into becoming such an important reading experience." -Bolo Books
"Times Undoing is a harrowing yet beautiful journey into the heart of darkness that beats in the center of the American Experience. A tour de force." -S.A. Cosby, New York Times bestselling author of Razorblade Tears and Blacktop Wasteland
"Cheryl Head's storytelling skills are on ful...
"The parallel narratives work with poignancy and righteous rage. So many decades gone, so few inroads made into the racism at the foundation of United States history. Head and her Black colleagues in this genre are lifting up new stories, to everyone's benefit."-NPR
"Depicts the power of friends and community…will please the author's fans and readers who enjoy novels with strong women protagonists." -Library Journal
"Head paints a vibrant picture of present-day Birmingham… She also brings rich detail to the everyday lives of her characters in 1929. Time's Undoing is an absorbing mystery and a moving lesson in Black history as it plays out in the lives of families through generations." -Tampa Bay Times
"An outstanding stand-alone novel that excavates one woman's family history wrapped in racism, violence and legend. Head smoothly incorporates those themes in the gripping, believable plot of Time's Undoing." -South Florida Sun Sentinel
"[Time's Undoing is] the latest book to register on the "future classic seismograph" … It is Cheryl A. Head's ability to authenticate a direct (and emotional) throughline from the past to present that compel Time's Undoing into becoming such an important reading experience." -Bolo Books
"Times Undoing is a harrowing yet beautiful journey into the heart of darkness that beats in the center of the American Experience. A tour de force." -S.A. Cosby, New York Times bestselling author of Razorblade Tears and Blacktop Wasteland
"Cheryl Head's storytelling skills are on ful...
Readers Top Reviews
Short Excerpt Teaser
Prologue
1929
Four hours ‘til dawn. The single streetlamp at the alleyway splays veiled illumination on the wet cobblestone. The rumble and squeak of streetcars ended two hours ago, and the in-a-hurry-owner of the diner hauls out the last of the garbage which tumbles onto the slick red bricks as he slams the door.
Cress lifts the collar of his tight-fitting jacket against curly brown hair. Alert. Smoking. Shifting from one leg to the other. Leaning into the shadows every time he hears loud voices from the street.
I can't feel the rain nor smell it, but I sense its fragrance mixed with the relentless forsythia creeping through every patch of dirt. Anna Kate often remarked that the flowers are her favorite part of living in Birmingham.
A car engine's hum grows louder. Cress melts into the darkness when the blue sedan eases forward and idles under the lamp. The sight of it passes a shiver my body doesn't register. Cress steps forward and drops his smoke, grinding the butt under his boot. He shoves both hands deep into the pockets of his dungarees.
The broad-shouldered detective gets out of the car, moves to the front bumper and stops. His hat cocked back. He stares at Cress in the alley then swivels his head to take in his surroundings. He nonchalantly swipes a hand down the breast of his coat. That's where he keeps his revolver.
Cress waits. No longer fidgeting. Squaring his body. He lifts his hands from his pockets and leaves them dangling at his thighs. Finally the big man walks toward him.
"You've been asking for me, boy?"
"Yeah. I owe you money. I got it here," Cress slides a hand into his jacket.
The man tenses.
Cress extends a palm.
Do these two know each other?
The detective closes the gap between them. He's at least four inches taller but when he draws close, Cress grabs his coat sleeve yanking the big man forward. The guy slips, but doesn't fall so Cress hits him in the face with his fist-three times-like a sledge hammer on a slab of concrete. The man sinks fumbling for his inside pocket. Cress thrashes him again and again while the struggling detective claws at his assailant's legs and arms trying to right himself. Cress slides and pivots like a welterweight but his opponent's size and strength gives him an advantage and Cress loses his footing. Now they're kneeling face-to-face on the wet pavement. The big man snatches Cress by the hair but he's not expecting the headbutt. Nor the punch to his solar plexus.
For a split second the fight pauses. The two stare at each other with gaping mouths and bared teeth.
When the detective grabs at his coat I think he's after the gun, but his hand comes away covered in blood. He's been knifed. Cress thrusts the blade two more times until the man slumps over.
This man-to-man battle has been quiet. Neither letting out more than a grunt. Cress lifts to his feet, rubbing at his scalp, looking around. He stares at the body then aims his boot for a rib-shattering kick.
"That's for my sister," he says then leans over to wipe the knife on the man's overcoat. Cress turns away, hurrying towards the opposite end of the alley. The glow of a match spirals then extinguishes in a puddle.
The detective lays unmoving on the alley's surface. His left arm stretching to escape. His legs mixing with spilled garbage and soggy cardboard boxes.
Chapter One
The Decision
1929
It's quitting time and a group of my coworkers are in conversation in the millwork's parking lot. One casually leans against my brand new Franklin Victoria Sedan. I take offense.
"Get off my car, Arthur. I spent a lot of time on that wax job."
"Boy, nobody's bothering your damn car. You think you're all big and bad just ‘cause you got this Franklin, but I ain't studyin' you."
It's been eighty plus degrees all day and the heat has me on edge. I consider Arthur for a moment. He's a warehouse laborer. One of those redbone dudes who thinks his good hair is his ticket to success.
"Maybe you could buy a new car," I spit out, "if you stop spending your money on liquor, and cockfights."
I regret the nagging-wife words as soon as they escape my mouth. I got no business telling another man how to spend his money. Arthur raises the stakes.
"I tell you one thing, Harrington, a fine woman like Anna Kate wouldn't even think of marrying a blue-black fool like you if you wasn't driving this new car."
The gathered men whoop and holler at his...
1929
Four hours ‘til dawn. The single streetlamp at the alleyway splays veiled illumination on the wet cobblestone. The rumble and squeak of streetcars ended two hours ago, and the in-a-hurry-owner of the diner hauls out the last of the garbage which tumbles onto the slick red bricks as he slams the door.
Cress lifts the collar of his tight-fitting jacket against curly brown hair. Alert. Smoking. Shifting from one leg to the other. Leaning into the shadows every time he hears loud voices from the street.
I can't feel the rain nor smell it, but I sense its fragrance mixed with the relentless forsythia creeping through every patch of dirt. Anna Kate often remarked that the flowers are her favorite part of living in Birmingham.
A car engine's hum grows louder. Cress melts into the darkness when the blue sedan eases forward and idles under the lamp. The sight of it passes a shiver my body doesn't register. Cress steps forward and drops his smoke, grinding the butt under his boot. He shoves both hands deep into the pockets of his dungarees.
The broad-shouldered detective gets out of the car, moves to the front bumper and stops. His hat cocked back. He stares at Cress in the alley then swivels his head to take in his surroundings. He nonchalantly swipes a hand down the breast of his coat. That's where he keeps his revolver.
Cress waits. No longer fidgeting. Squaring his body. He lifts his hands from his pockets and leaves them dangling at his thighs. Finally the big man walks toward him.
"You've been asking for me, boy?"
"Yeah. I owe you money. I got it here," Cress slides a hand into his jacket.
The man tenses.
Cress extends a palm.
Do these two know each other?
The detective closes the gap between them. He's at least four inches taller but when he draws close, Cress grabs his coat sleeve yanking the big man forward. The guy slips, but doesn't fall so Cress hits him in the face with his fist-three times-like a sledge hammer on a slab of concrete. The man sinks fumbling for his inside pocket. Cress thrashes him again and again while the struggling detective claws at his assailant's legs and arms trying to right himself. Cress slides and pivots like a welterweight but his opponent's size and strength gives him an advantage and Cress loses his footing. Now they're kneeling face-to-face on the wet pavement. The big man snatches Cress by the hair but he's not expecting the headbutt. Nor the punch to his solar plexus.
For a split second the fight pauses. The two stare at each other with gaping mouths and bared teeth.
When the detective grabs at his coat I think he's after the gun, but his hand comes away covered in blood. He's been knifed. Cress thrusts the blade two more times until the man slumps over.
This man-to-man battle has been quiet. Neither letting out more than a grunt. Cress lifts to his feet, rubbing at his scalp, looking around. He stares at the body then aims his boot for a rib-shattering kick.
"That's for my sister," he says then leans over to wipe the knife on the man's overcoat. Cress turns away, hurrying towards the opposite end of the alley. The glow of a match spirals then extinguishes in a puddle.
The detective lays unmoving on the alley's surface. His left arm stretching to escape. His legs mixing with spilled garbage and soggy cardboard boxes.
Chapter One
The Decision
1929
It's quitting time and a group of my coworkers are in conversation in the millwork's parking lot. One casually leans against my brand new Franklin Victoria Sedan. I take offense.
"Get off my car, Arthur. I spent a lot of time on that wax job."
"Boy, nobody's bothering your damn car. You think you're all big and bad just ‘cause you got this Franklin, but I ain't studyin' you."
It's been eighty plus degrees all day and the heat has me on edge. I consider Arthur for a moment. He's a warehouse laborer. One of those redbone dudes who thinks his good hair is his ticket to success.
"Maybe you could buy a new car," I spit out, "if you stop spending your money on liquor, and cockfights."
I regret the nagging-wife words as soon as they escape my mouth. I got no business telling another man how to spend his money. Arthur raises the stakes.
"I tell you one thing, Harrington, a fine woman like Anna Kate wouldn't even think of marrying a blue-black fool like you if you wasn't driving this new car."
The gathered men whoop and holler at his...
