Gine, the Kreyol word usually translated as Africa, carries several meanings at once in Vodou: a lost continent, a forested island under the cosmic waters where the spirits dwell, and a measure of value that practitioners invoke when judging one practice more genuine than another. McGee follows that third meaning through the twentieth century. Reading Vodou songs alongside Odette Mennesson-Rigaud's field notes and Karen Richman's history of Leogane, he shows how land loss and the American occupation pushed worship out of the family homestead and into temples, and how a new professional priesthood made Gine something clergy could summon in any space. Foreign scholars, Marines who published sensational memoirs, painters and dance ethnographers all helped decide which styles would count as authentic. The familiar split between cool Rada and hot Petwo, he concludes, turns on aesthetic register, a contrast already described in the 1790s and layered since with claims about origin, class and morality.