Two new collections of speculative fiction—one a debut and the other a sophomore volume—center women who have been made to feel wrong about themselves. In Sympathy for Wild Girls by Demree McGhee, Black women of all ages cultivate pearls of wisdom both to pass between generations and to squirrel away for their continued survival. Portalmania by Debbie Urbanski asks whether there is a sturdy middle-ground between vastly different points of view, or if these divides necessitate the creation of new worlds from which there is no return. Each book explores the losses, definitive and anticipated, attendant to womanhood and personhood as we become ourselves, and how that self might not align with who anyone, yourself included, once believed you to be. But while the women of Wild Girls deal more with the anxieties of separation—from loved ones, the world, and ones’ idea of oneself—Portalmania is concerned with varied levels of separation as a means to secure an independent identity within relationships.
Sympathy for Wild Girls collects fifteen stories of Black, queer girls and women testing the limits of what constricts them in order to make more comfortable spaces for themselves in the world. The protagonist of the title tale is propelled by the possibility of being harmed in a world that would not grieve her loss into a feral state that she believes will protect her from other people’s violence towards her. In the story “She Is Waiting,” which feels like a natural companion to the title story, Ava does experience another person’s violence and then spends the years afterward on the lookout for more violence intending, this time, to be ready. Many of the characters attempt to learn who they are in relation to someone else, like the protagonist of “Throwing Up in a Gated Community,” who constantly compares her life in a low-income household to that of her white friend, Hillary, whose family is moneyed and has Black hired help and feels entitled to shoot guns at what they cannot see. Another woman in the story “Scratching” goes to great lengths for a child’s respect after losing the one person who appreciated her most without asking that she earn it somehow. Yet another woman in the story “Even Here, There I Am” does what she can to permanently escape her hometown only to find herself back there, in the thrall of an old friend who has discovered a gift for prophecy. Children try to protect their parents; parents try to warn their children; friends try to keep hold of one another in spite of their trauma, with one in actual danger of floating away. None are fully successful in their quests because as McGhee reminds us in every tale, a person’s journey is their own, for better or worse, regardless of the deep impressions we leave on the lives we pass through.
Several of McGhee’s observations speak directly to Black feminine coming of age—a process presented in these stories as something ongoing—especially the presentation of dynamics within families and friendships. The efforts made to belong in both Black and non-Black feminine spaces. The torment of constantly remaking yourself into whatever will make you beautiful or smart or free or Black enough. The call for particular shows of loyalty to your elders, even if it means deserting yourself.
The protagonist of “Be Good” runs away from the expectations her parents have of her and any future grandchildren to run the family restaurant, regardless of her own plans for her life. She moves into a house full of white women with a Christian Youtube channel. Amongst women who are terrified of their so-called sins being exposed, “Jane” (an alias) decides that this new life she has made is only worth living exactly as she wants to. In one of the highlights of the collection, “Butterfruit,” a young girl goes with her mother to the home of an elderly relative and finds herself either chastised or ignored by everyone around her while the weak and whispery voice of the patriarch is respected above all others. As her family ingratiates themselves to him in hopes of securing their favorites among his possessions once he passes, the little girl wanders outside and makes a discovery that she hopes is important enough to finally make her voice heard. The story and its ending will hit home for anyone familiar with the way hierarchies can make a family’s youngest members feel invisible, hungry for age because with it comes the promise of fellowship and respect.
McGhee’s style is confident and poetic, leaning often into the realm of fairytale. Language that may or may not be figurative weaves organically through the more realistic scenes, tying the reality we know to the threat of some other world that is darkly magical. The phrase “men are dogs” seems to be made literal in the story “Matter of Survival,” with the daughter of that man also dispensing coins from her mouth. However in other stories, such as “Exchange” where a college student and her boyfriend are shoplifters caught by a woman who gradually works her way into their lives until she ultimately replaces one of them, there is simply an uncanny quality to events that brings to mind the ways in which so-called “real” life can feel surreal, like it’s coming apart before your eyes.
A number of the stories feel unfinished or stopped in what could be the middle with ambiguous endings that seem almost obligatory. These stories are so rich in detail and relatability that they very well could have been pushed beyond their published endings to the destinations that seem to haunt every word with their possibility. Not for the purpose of tying up every loose end, which is unnecessary, but simply to allow the characters and the consequences of their choices to be fully realized. One example of another standout story in Wild Girls that fulfills this promise beautifully is “Better Days.” A mother misunderstands her daughter when she tells her that the end of the world is nigh, recalling all the moments in life when her own world felt on the brink of collapse. As she undertakes the task of intergenerational connection, we see the world around her actually lurch toward apocalypse. The tale can be read as cautionary, warning against trying so hard to give someone else perspective that you lose yours.
In Portalmania, characters actively seek out new worlds and those new worlds seek them. The portals in this aptly titled collection choose specific individuals, barring all others from entry. Showing us where the portals lead isn’t Urbanski’s primary objective; instead these stories force us to examine the desire for this other world and the life it proposes. In “The Promise of a Portal,” a woman spends stolen moments of her life, which begins to crumble around her, searching for her portal. In childhood, she recalls women in white vans referred to as “portal creepers” by the community at large driving around the neighborhood, inviting children—mostly girls—to enter portals. But only certain children—never the protagonist. Eventually, she builds a fairly normal life that includes a partner and children, but it begins to deteriorate due to her portal obsession. Her mother, who has been warning her against portals all her life, ends up with portals of her own that she refuses to enter because she is “fine with [her] life, no matter how small it may seem.”
As in this first story, each one in this collection, whether they include portals or not, features opposing realities and characters who are strongly attached to one over the other. In “How to Kiss a Hojacki,” a man’s wife slowly transforms into a humanoid creature who, in addition to subtle changes in her physical appearance, no longer speaks or has sex. Her husband grows more and more frustrated with this change and comes to consider it a betrayal, though his wife communicates to him that she had felt like a Hojacki long ago, something he refuses to believe. The couple visits a therapist—a recurring element throughout the collection—and cannot seem to reach agreement about whether or not sex is necessary within a marriage. The wife tries repeatedly to give her husband information from the internet about what she has become, as well as offering alternatives to sex that they can both enjoy, but he refuses. In his mind, his reality is the more valid one.
There is an impressive neutrality to Urbanski’s portrayal of characters in opposition, despite how close these subjects clearly are to her heart. No character’s beliefs are held up as being more obviously correct than another’s. “Long May My Land Be Bright” is the most straightforward example of this as it features a reality in which both major political party’s candidates are elected and act as president on alternating days. The citizens of this new America who are trying to remain unaligned, like the protagonist, switch their behaviors from day to day in accordance with whomever is president. As a reader of this story and every other in this collection, you are allowed to connect organically with the viewpoints that resonate most with you while possibly being shown something surprising from the other side.
One excellent example is the story “LK-32-C” which in three parts tells a story from a mother and her autistic child’s perspectives. We are allowed to see her helplessness in the face of her son’s growing resistance to the life she tries to give him, as well as the sense of safety he feels inside the world he has created, a planet of his own design, which is the story’s namesake. His planet is full of life and music and stillness. He can be who he wants to be without his mother’s expectations weighing him down, just as she has the chance to live a life free of other people’s expectations while her son is away at a special boarding school. The two of them are connected by a need for relief that neither can provide, something that is true of several pairs within these pages.
Many themes resurface throughout this collection: alternate realities, marriages between men and women where one partner is asexual, the question of how essential sexual intercourse is to marriage, wanting to make relationships work in spite of major differences, satisfaction versus dissatisfaction with one’s life. Urbanski includes a “story notes” section in the back which illuminates some of her thoughts on the writing, initial publication, and reader response to these stories, which have been published previously. Apparently, some readers could not understand her preoccupation with certain themes, especially the romantic pair who can’t seem to agree on what their relationship should be. Some suggested her characters should “just divorce.” In response, Urbanski shares a portion of an email she sent where she explains that she draws from her own experience when writing about couples in “a mixed-orientation marriage trying to stay married.” So often in fiction (and in life) we see people striking out on their own because they can’t meet in the middle on matters deemed critical to the function of their relationships. But just like the portals throughout Portalmania, this idea that people on opposite sides of the same issue can choose to carry on together rather than walk out has the potential to take readers to new areas of understanding. So often we are encouraged to leave things behind that don’t suit us in the moment. But what if the mother of the first story’s protagonist was onto something? Portalmania offers no easy answers, but it does present myriad possibilities, including the suggestion that, unlike the children and adults lured away to other worlds, some stay behind…and neither choice is wrong.
These two collections are powerfully unique and thoughtfully written, with the ability to carry you to places you’ve yet to imagine and return you to places you’ve tried to escape. Both are wonderful reads by skilled writers presenting points of view that are seldom understood. Take the time to fully inhabit these worlds and see what you come away with.
FICTION
Sympathy for Wild Girls
By Demree McGhee
Feminist Press
Published May 6, 2025
FICTION
Portalmania
By Debbie Urbanski
Simon & Schuster
Published May 13, 2025
