Back in Kansas, darkly

A review of Gordon McAlpine's After Oz

Sequels to classic literature can vary in quality. At one end is lightweight fan fiction that pales in comparison to the work it continues. On the other, we find clever gems that honor the originals while leading us in unconsidered directions … novels that affect what we take away from the stories they’re based upon.

Gordon McAlpine’s After Oz is one of the latter. It’s a grimly atmospheric tale, a rural noir that opens in one genre and spirals into another, thanks to the foresight of one of its main characters. Some of the twists it takes are unexpected, but its most surprising aspect may be that Dorothy Gale, the delightful eleven-year-old girl who was front and center in L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (and the movie adaptation), has little on-page time.

How would the residents of an insular Kansas settlement, circa 1896, react when an orphaned child raised by an elderly couple mysteriously reappears on a neighbor’s property, unharmed, four days after a destructive tornado swept through the prairie? McAlpine took this question for his premise and ran with it, crafting an edgy story about small-town prejudice and harmful delusions.

Dorothy doesn’t waver from her story of meeting talking animals and visiting an emerald city. She speaks of befriending a good witch and killing a wicked one, completely by accident, by throwing water at her. The girl’s nonsensical remarks have the townsfolk, especially the local reverend, concerned about her state of mind—especially when she proclaims, blasphemously, that “not all witches are bad.”

Things worsen after a reclusive spinster in her fifties—a crotchety woman nobody much liked—is found dead in her home. Hearing Dorothy’s comments about having “melted” a witch, the authorities get involved, and all’s not looking good for the young girl. Not only does she have visions they find demonic, but she may be a murderer.

The narration alternates between an unnamed resident of Sunbonnet, Kansas, who hardly emulates the Christian values he espouses—or maybe the collective voice of many such residents; it isn’t clear—and a 28-year-old psychologist from back East, Dr. Evelyn Grace Wilford. She arrives in town to interview Dorothy for her research after learning about her case from her cousin, a Chicago-based newspaper reporter. Readers of classic literature should recognize his name.

There are no chapter headings to distinguish their sections, but there’s really no trouble telling the two voices apart. With Dorothy’s Aunt Emily ill after a stroke, and her uncle taking to the bottle after his farm was obliterated, Evelyn realizes she’s the only person who can save Dorothy from permanent institutionalization—and the only way to do so is discover who killed poor Alvina Clough herself.

And so we find ourselves in a murder mystery with Evelyn as detective, sorting through whatever clues she can discern. Not a simple task as a woman and an outsider in an unfamiliar, close-knit place, but she willingly takes up the role she needs to play. Those with malign intent, of course, fail to recognize their villainy. Many villains don’t.

Part of the ending is a bit far-fetched and doesn’t feel necessary, but among literary sequels, this stands out for its complex plotting and originality. Sadly, the author passed away three years before his final novel After Oz was published.

After Oz by Gordon McAlpine (Crooked Lane, 2024), 208pp; reviewed from a personal copy.