Authored by Angela Flournoy; Published September 2025; Fiction
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I’ve read several novels in the last few years about lifelong friendships. The Wilderness stands out for its depiction of women who learn to adapt and accommodate to each others’ personalities without changing the core of who they are, through deep love.
The Wilderness follows four black women as they traverse their twenties and thirties, navigating loss, romantic relationships and budding careers. The four have strong bonds but clash frequently over differences in their values and what they choose—or choose not—to prioritize. Remarkably, as the decades pass, the four women continue to be present in each other’s lives as Nakia becomes a famous chef, January gives births to two sons, Monique embraces her work as an “internet person,” and Desiree struggles with her relationship with her sister.

It always pains me a little bit to read novels where great friends lose each other because they were too stubborn to try a little harder in their relationship. I worried that this novel would follow that same pattern, but, despite their harsh words for each other, these four women remain friends. I was impressed at their ability to bounce back from conflict, to acknowledge the ways in which their deeply held values diverged, and to support each other anyway. Instead of their love for each other cooling over time, it seems to grow, and new connections are formed in their friend group. What is more, even as their love grows, the lives of the four women diverge: toward career prominence, into motherhood, out of a marriage. In real life, surviving such transitions together is difficult, there is no question. Yet, despite the fact that the bonds among these women do indeed survive such transitions, the novel does not have the ring of falsity. It conveys the truth of the struggle.
And all of this takes place against a backdrop of climate change growing more severe, increased urban unrest, and the ever-present racism and sexism of America. I found the unrest portrayed in the novel to be jarring—set only a few years in the future, it is more violent than what I want to believe will occur in 2028. Nevertheless, I know that is my optimism speaking, and that it is highly unlikely that police brutalism will become extinct, and far more likely to become more severe instead. Between the protests and the ongoing worries about wildfire, the novel gives me a sense of pessimism bordering on dread. It is not quite so dramatic as to be called dystopian, but it shows a future I’m not quite ready to face.
The Wilderness is a rare novel to depict long-lasting friendships that are both difficult and successful. While its perspective on society is decidedly pessimistic, somehow my faith in humanity and relationships comes away strengthened anyway.
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