In America, demons wear white hoods.

In 1915, The Birth of a Nation casts a spell across America, swelling the Klan’s ranks and drinking deep from the darkest thoughts of white folk. All across the nation they ride, spreading fear and violence among the vulnerable. They plan to bring hell to Earth. But even Ku Kluxes can die.

Standing in their way are Maryse Boudreaux and her fellow resistance fighters, a foulmouthed sharpshooter, and a Harlem Hellfighter. Armed with blade, bullet, and bomb, they hunt their hunters and send the Klan’s demons straight to hell. But something awful’s brewing in Macon, and the war on hell is about to heat up.

Can Maryse stop the Klan before it ends the world?

This book is fucking fantastic. Seriously. This is one of those books that somehow sat on my shelf for far too long. Once I finally picked it up, I couldn’t stop reading. And when I finished, my only real complaint was that I can’t experience it for the first time again.

Set in 1915, Ring Shout takes place in the wake of The Birth of a Nation, a film that didn’t just glorify the Ku Klux Klan, but actively emboldened it. In Clark’s world, that cultural poison has literal consequences. The Klan are no longer just hateful white people in white hoods. They are something worse. They are demons. Mindless, indoctrinated, violent monsters animated by white supremacy and Christian nationalism. If that sounds familiar, it should.

The brilliance of this book lies in how sharp and intentional the metaphor is. Clark doesn’t soften it or dress it up. The KKK are zombies. Cult members. Hellspawn. And it’s up to Black resistance fighters to hunt them down and send them back where they came from. Honestly, it’s about time.

At the center of the story is Maryse Boudreaux, a demon-slaying fighter armed with a magical sword and a whole lot of righteous fury. She’s joined by Sadie, a foul-mouthed sharpshooter, and Cordelia, a Harlem Hellfighter with bombs and grit to spare. These women are incredible. They are fierce, smart, traumatized, determined, and utterly compelling. Clark wastes no time making you care about them, and even less time throwing them into danger.

What struck me most is how relevant this story feels, despite being set over a century ago. The language may shift. The imagery may change. But the ideology is the same. White Christian nationalism, fear-mongering, violence dressed up as righteousness. Clark draws a straight line between then and now, and he does it without being heavy-handed. The parallels are obvious because history keeps repeating itself. It also asks the question: How many times are we going to rely on Black women to save us?

This book is short, but it packs an incredible amount into its pages. The action is brutal and relentless. The worldbuilding is rich without being overwhelming. The horror elements are genuinely unsettling, especially in how casually evil the Klan demons are. There’s also a deep sense of rage running through the story, but it’s a focused rage. A purposeful one. The kind that comes from knowing exactly who the enemy is and why they must be stopped.
I also appreciated how it doesn’t try to explain away hatred or offer redemption arcs to monsters. It understands that some things are irredeemable. Some forces exist solely to destroy. And sometimes survival requires fighting back.

There’s also an undercurrent of grief and exhaustion woven throughout the story. These women are not untouched by the violence they face. They are carrying trauma, loss, and anger, and yet they keep going. That emotional weight gives the book depth and realism beyond its thrilling surface.

If you’re looking for a quiet, gentle read, this is not it. This book is loud. It’s furious. It’s unapologetic. And it’s incredibly satisfying. It’s speculative horror at its best, using genre to say something sharp and necessary about the world we live in. If you haven’t read this yet, fix that. This book deserves to be read, discussed, and shouted about. I loved it. And I’m still mad at myself for waiting so long to pick it up.