Black Sheep/White Sheep: On Black Sheep by Rachel Harrison

1 December 2025

Black Sheep/White Sheep: On Black Sheep by Rachel Harrison

Black Sheep by Rachel Harrison frankly gave me less to say than Play Nice did. The novel is a single-protagonist first-person PoV that explores themes of family systems, mama trauma, daddy issues, and faith (both cult and mainstream). The story’s unique twist on religion and cult culture (no spoilers here) fuels its innovative plot to create something delightfully new and interesting. Further, in this story (as opposed to Play Nice), Harrison’s sentence structures were sufficiently varied and predominantly adhered to grammatical standards such that they did not as often kick my brain out of the narrative and out of the trance that is “deep reading.”

In short, Black Sheep was a fast, enjoyable read, and I can see why The New York Times named it the Best Horror Book of the Year.

In contrast to the protagonist of Play Nice, I found Black Sheep’s protagonist, Vesper, both relatable and very humanly nuanced/complex. While I am always hoping for a greater character arc than the one presented here, I was not disappointed with an entirely static character. Over the course of the story, Vesper hammers out her own moral-ethical standards, as she determines she was right: she cannot abide by those of her upbringing. Vesper acts like the young twenty-something that she is: confused, maturing but not yet matured, figuring things out. She makes morally questionable decisions at times, hurts people, but is not insensible to the pain she inflicts; it is this pain and her innate empathy that moves her toward her own moral compass.

While the story does address family systems trauma, mama drama, daddy issues, and faith—all powerful themes/messages—it is possible to read the novel as a novel without feeling forced into considering those deeper issues. It is possible, I say, for the reader seeking a light, fast, easy read. It is also possible to dig into each theme in this story; however, that said, Harrison’s treatment of these deeper concepts often felt simplistic or too on-the-nose for my liking. For example, when talking about her community’s blind faith, she initially thinks, “I was jealous that she got to be a dumb, giddy sheep, never questioning anything” (104). This sentiment is very raw and real; it is a sentiment I have shared for nearly a decade now. If I could go back to being that “dumb, giddy sheep, never questioning anything,” I would. A few chapters later, however, Harrison hits the point again, but this time a little too squarely. She writes, “Or was it death that drove them to faith? Were they not brave enough to accept its inevitability? Did they need to believe they could transcend it in order to live?” (123) This sentiment, although admittedly appropriate for a 24-year-old, is far too obvious, too pedestrian, too simplistic, too head-on, for my taste. I prefer when an author leads the reader to these questions without asking them outright. To me, this is the difference between popular writing and literature.

As The New York Times implies, this story is a page-turner; Harrison understands how to construct a plot that moves the reader forward. There was just one moment in the plot where I felt a lull and wondered, “What does this protagonist want?” All fiction writers know that what keeps a story evolving is letting the reader know, with crystalline clarity, what the protagonist wants versus what they need, and showing the reader what stands between the protag and attaining those wants/needs. By just about the midpoint in the book, Vesper has done quite a few things that made her uncomfortable, that she thought were perhaps morally suspect, but every one of those things has worked out. Everyone still loves her; she and Rosie are laughing together (114). Everything is going swimmingly. Where’s the conflict? This was the only hiccup in the plot…but it was short-lived. We learn Vesper’s wants/needs in the next few pages.

Another aspect of Harrison’s writing style which isn’t to my taste but appears in both novels is her imprecise description. Whenever I teach my Comp students how to describe settings, I use the bar scene (the Spouter Inn) from Moby Dick as an example. If you haven’t read this scene, please do; you’ll see what I mean. Melville describes this bar precisely the way your eyes would perceive it, left to right, bottom to top, narrow to deep: spatially. In doing so, Melville paints a picture in the reader’s mind such that the understanding between author and reader nearly meets between the two. Harrison’s descriptions fall short of this, especially as she describes Vesper’s mother’s house (and all the rooms therein) and the climactic action moment of the story. Because of this, the mother’s house and the climactic moment never really took shape in my mind. They were jagged and imprecise, and oftentimes even, I could not imagine them at all.

All these criticisms are style and preference based. Surely there are readers who appreciate an on-the-nose message, or readers who don’t enjoy belabored descriptions. I didn’t get a ton from the book, but if you’re looking for a quick, delightful horror, give it a read!