I loved this story. It was wonderful. I give it six Zeppelins out of five.
The City. The City. The life that hums beneath our feet and flows in our veins and drifts in and out of our mouths like smoke when we breath. The City is in us, it is us, all of us, in each of our disparate ways. The City shelters us from storm and fire and earthquake, whenever it can, and in return the City calls on its sons and daughters to defend it, when need be.
I loved the storm dragons, the "haint," the real and flawed and fascinating characters... I loved it all.
Story time here: I'm a middle school teacher in East Oakland. Tookie could have been one of my kids. I can see the hate infecting them, I can feel its hot breath on the back of my neck, and I know they can, too. I watch as it pushes them to destroy and self-destruct. If I could pick up a gun and blow that hate away, with the power of the City in me, I'd do it. I'd do it in a heartbeat.
In real life, it's more complicated, but that's what we have fantasy for.
I also have a deep fondness for stories in which it is pure emotion or virtue - love, friendship, faith, passion - that wins the day. It's Tookie's compassion and self-love that conquers the monster, not his strength, skill, or aim. I dig that kind of thing.