The Walls Are Closing In On Us
A Novel
George, a middle-aged, half-Choctaw and half-white man, is dying from a snakebite and the stab wounds of a failed lynching beside a river hundreds of miles miles from where he was born. As he inches closer to death and relives the moments of his life that got him here, George must make amends with the ghosts of his past. A life of migration, endurance in the face of grief and the tightening grip of consequence is pieced together through his memories.
The Walls Are Closing In On Us - loosely based on my great grandfather - propels George across the American South as he is forced to steal a new identity and journey far from home until he can no longer hide from the crime of survival he committed as a teenager.
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Historical Novel Society Editor’s Choice Selection
Read their Review Here
Early praise for the Novel:
"With traces of Paul Harding's Tinkers and Denis Johnson's Train Dreams, The Walls are Closing In On Us is a moving novel about racial tensions, segregation, and coming of age in a rapidly changing America. This is a book that examines not only the soul of a man but—perhaps—the soul of a nation."
- Austin Ross, author of Gloria Patri
“Joshua Trent Brown delivers something special with his debut novel, The Walls Are Closing In On Us. Part Donna Tartt, part Thomas Wolfe, wrapped in a Stoner-esque search for purpose, the book wrestles with existence and legacy. Brown has read The Gospel Singer and Faulkner. He also seems familiar with the work of Rudolfo Anaya. Brown blends the magical, the Greek, and the biblical into a narrative that feels timeless, yet bold and fresh. George's story of survival and his journey across the Southeast in search of meaning and purpose takes the reader on a wild ride filled with love and loss, and a cast of characters so unique and grotesque that they will live on in the reader's imagination long after the book is finished. This remarkable novel grips you and makes you hope for another page waiting with every turn. Without doubt, the best book we’ve read this year.”
★★★★★
-Dan Russell, author of Poor Birds and Lies We Choose to Believe & editor of Grit Quarterly
Check out what readers are saying about it on Goodreads
“Truly beautiful and heart-wrenching. Joshua Trent Brown definitely deserves a spot on your reading list… I urge you to read this book. Definitely in my top 5 of the year at this point.”
— Brandon Roby / @shelf.seeker
Read Excerpts from the Novel
Ferris Wheel
Published in Revolution John Journal
He smelled dough frying and clouds of powdered sugar.
He smelled cotton candy and located it in view quickly as a small child was handed some blue and red on a paper stick.
He saw bright and flashing lights on signs that said things like “world’s smallest pony” and “Mississippi’s best frog legs” and “Best Photographer in Town” that were clearly meant to draw people in, and looked to be working by the lines in front of them.
He saw young fathers with little children on their shoulders. He heard the children shout things like “Pa, look, you can ride a horsey over there!” As they shouted, he saw the trail of sugar around their little mouths. He saw the sweat on the fathers’ foreheads.
He saw women with all kinds of colorful dresses on and big hats with veils on them and big fans to blow air on their faces and their hair out of the way of their eyes.
Nehemiah’s Mother
Published in Minor Literature(s)
Nehemiah’s mother was a short lady, wearing the fat of the rich along with all the jewelry too. She had long, blonde hair though and in her face was the remnant of a woman who George guessed must have been quite nice to look at when she was he and Chito’s age. She met them at the door on the day they were to board the train to Jackson wearing a white house dress. When she opened the door, she just stood there in the frame for a moment taking George in. She even put her right hand on her hip and her left on her chin, pondering openly about them as the door swung in and hit the wall beside her. After a beat, she spoke directly to Chito.
“Now Nehemiah told me you were bringing your brother,” she said.
“Yes, yes, ma’am,” Chito stuttered, giving a quick nervous glance over to George. “Well, he is basically my brother.”
“But he looks about white, Chito,” she said with a long drawl on the first syllable of his name and a sharp upwards movement of the final vowel.
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