HOUSE OF COTTON

A debut novel about generational trauma, grief, and the enduring violence of White supremacy.

Magnolia Brown is 19 years old. She hasn’t seen her mother since she was 15. Her father’s been dead a long time. When her grandmother Mama Brown dies, Magnolia is essentially alone. The only regular figures in her life are Sugar Foot—her landlord, who prefers sex to rent money—and the man who digs through the trash cans at the gas station where she works. Her luck seems to change when a stranger with “milk skin” and freshly manicured nails tells her that she looks like Josephine Baker and offers her a modeling job. A mix of curiosity and desperation leads her to a “plantation-style” house that is half funeral parlor, half family home. Cotton—the man who told her she looks like Josephine Baker even though she doesn’t—lives and works there with his Aunt Eden. And this is where Magnolia lives once she accepts Cotton’s offer to impersonate the dead for people who are willing to pay for the chance to connect. At first, Magnolia’s job involves Skyping for clients. Eventually, she will lie still in a coffin for mourners who never had a chance to bury their loved one and masquerade as a lost—certainly dead—woman at a party for her family and friends. While Magnolia is posing as a series of dead women, Mama Brown haunts her and begs Magnolia to see the baby she’s aborted so that both Mama Brown and the baby can rest. And, throughout the narrative, we see the little fairy tales Magnolia tells herself to escape from her real life. This is a messy text with a weird flow, and much of the detail that Brashears provides makes it more difficult—rather than easier—to suspend disbelief unless we understand at the very beginning that this is closer to horror than realist fiction. Perhaps the best way to read this is as a gothic novel in which a surfeit of symbolism offers up a superabundance of meaning.

A lyrical fever dream of a novel.