The Rich People Have Gone Away, Regina Porter
The era of pandemic literature is here, featuring stories that contemplate both the divided and shared experiences left in the wake of COVID-19. Authors such as Sigrid Nunez (The Vulnerables), Sarah Moss (The Fell), and Gary Shteyngart (Our Country Friends) are among the few who have already critically examined how the pandemic shaped the world, using intelligent storytelling to capture its impact on ordinary people. Regina Porter joins the fray with her much-anticipated second novel, The Rich People Have Gone Away. Like her peers, Porter uses the pandemic as a backdrop to explore inequality and the fragility of human connection through the lives of conventional New Yorkers tussling a changed world.
Set in Brooklyn in 2020, we meet Theo Harper, a successful “aesthetic adviser” to high-end real estate agents, and his pregnant wife, Darla. As the virus spreads, Theo and Darla, urged by her mother, retreat to their summer cottage in the Catskills for the “fresh air”, leaving behind their urban life. The book's title isn’t just clever; it pays homage to events of the times: wealthy New Yorkers left the city for their country homes in an attempt to outrun the virus. The title is a startling reminder that escape - the freedom to leave - is only for the privileged and is not a right for the many.
On the journey to their country retreat, Theo and Darla stop at the fatefully named Devil’s Ridge walking trail. Here, Theo - who starts to reveal himself as less of the cocksure playboy we first meet but as a man at war with his identity - reveals a long-held secret about his ancestry: “I’m only a fraction black”. This disclosure sparks a heated argument with Darla. She accuses him of hiding aspects of his identity for personal gain, shattering the equilibrium of their marriage. With it, a storm rolls in with a touch of dramatic irony, and the novel shifts gears; a slow-burn literary thriller emerges. But this isn’t your typical police procedural or missing person mystery; it’s a character-driven study – a “whydunnit” rather than a “whodunnit,” peeling back layers of motivation rather than focusing on the puzzle itself.
Theo quickly becomes the prime suspect in Darla’s disappearance, especially once the news hits the headlines. Yet, Porter writes more than the familiar “the partner did it!” truism; it is a shrewd comment on race. As Theo searches for his wife, Porter keeps the tension sharp, raising uncomfortable questions: would Darla’s case be so prominent if she weren’t a beautiful, missing white woman? And would the media’s gaze be as intense on Theo if he weren’t Black? Here, Porter forces us to confront these biases head-on, urging a critical examination of how societal views on race and gender shape public perceptions of innocence and guilt, as well as the systemic prejudices embedded in media and justice systems. It’s an unflinching, sometimes challenging read, but all the more essential because of it.
This novel has far-reaching tentacles, with various secondary characters navigating their own pandemic realities. Each persona is wonderfully drawn as very human, authentic, and veritable. Ruby, Darla’s best friend, and her partner, Katsumi, struggle to keep their Michelin-starred restaurant afloat, battling the relentless economic toll while demonstrating the admirable resilience needed to navigate a broken system. We also meet Xavier, a restless teenager in “the Cardi B t-shirt” confined to his uncle’s apartment, encapsulating the enforced solitude and anxiety that punctuated the youth experience in lockdown. And there’s Nadine, Xavier’s mother, who is hospitalised with COVID-19 and offers a blistering look at the virus’s disproportionate reverberation on marginalised communities. Not forgetting a private detective, Theo’s many lovers (one being the husband of an NYPD detective), include an online keyboard warrior, the aloof Roland Paige.
With this in mind, it could be argued that, occasionally, the story feels saturated with accessory figures whose brief though impactful arcs fade in and out, functioning more as stage props than fully fleshed characters. However, these supporting roles are needed to drive Porter’s themes of escape and privilege forward. This emphasises her background as a playwright, demonstrating her talent for crafting nuanced, multifaceted characters with remarkable subtlety, even when they occupy a smaller narrative space. While they’re not nearly as fully drawn as Theo and Darla, we still see how discrepancies deepen under crisis through their lives, grounding the story in the lived experiences of those who couldn’t simply leave New York. They may flicker, but they leave their mark, giving a broader context to the social and racial fault lines Porter scrutinises so well.
Interestingly, the pandemic isn’t the only major event knitted through the story; September 11th also emanates as a pivotal, life-altering moment for many characters. While it isn’t explicitly stated, 9/11 seems to serve as a narrative anchor, lightly echoing another time when a singular, traumatic event collectively reshaped New Yorkers. Porter neatly addresses the events of that day with restraint, avoiding sensationalism while invoking its lasting resonance.
The Rich People Have Gone Away has pandemic trappings, but it’s more than just a COVID-19 novel. Porter’s command over the dialogue feels almost musical, capturing the natural rhythms and tensions of conversation. At the same time, her talent for scene-setting shines in vivid descriptions that make the landscapes of New York breathe off the page. With suspense and sensitivity, Porter has constructed a powerful reflection on the inequalities 2020 exposed and exacerbated, examining privilege in all its forms, and reminding us that no one would feel the need - or have the privilege - to “go away” in a more equitable society. Porter navigates this universal shared history with sensitivity and vulnerability, bringing together an understanding of how profoundly cataclysmic events can, and will, continue to shape us and proving that privilege is as powerful a currency as money itself.
Fans of A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara and An American Marriage by Tayari Jones will find The Rich People Have Gone Away equally absorbing with Porter’s ability to hold up a mirror to society’s uncomfortable truths, urging us to face the divides that shape our lives. This novel, like those by Yanagihara and Jones, foregrounds real-world experiences that can’t be ignored or forgotten.
Porter’s voice is distinct, bold, and resonant. She is a sharp observer of human sensibilities and has much to say. A powerful addition to literary fiction, The Rich People Have Gone Away is a timely reminder that to truly heal, we must first honour and acknowledge our fractures while also embracing the complexities of our shared humanity.
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