The novel shifts into something delightfully unusual ... It’s a lot, and occasionally it feels as if the novel meanders — story lines emerge and then fall away, superseded by yet another narrative development. But it’s a testament to Brashears’s enchanting storytelling that the deluge of plot doesn’t overwhelm the book. Just the opposite ... As the plot thickens, so do the questions the novel raises: What does support look like? To whom is it offered and why? At what cost does it come, and how do you step away when the price is too high? House of Cotton meditates on these moral dilemmas in fresh, haunting ways.
Hard to classify ... It's an incredible debut that announces the arrival of a unique voice in contemporary fiction ... House of Cotton is a bizarre, uncomfortable read in the best way possible. Brashears delves deep into what it means to be a young, broke woman of color in a world in which predatory men are at your doorstep, in the streets, and even at church. She's not always likable, but real people rarely are ... This is a novel that refuses to obey the rules of any one genre, and that, complicated as it might be for some, is one of the best things about it ... Peculiar and slightly surreal, but also dazzling, full of surprises, and told with a voice that's unpredictable and, more importantly, that lingers. Darkness can have slices of beauty at its core, and Brashears has a talent for pointing out that beauty, while its submerged in grit and grief. Fans of brave fiction would be remiss to skip this one.
Brashears has written a lush, pictorial, and often steamy novel with an indelible heroine. Coupling classic gothic elements with a realistic portrayal of the issues facing a young, poor, Black woman with few options, the novel’s many strengths culminate in a powerful and original story that will appeal to a variety of readers across fiction genres.
Brashears skillfully portrays the ease with which Magnolia pivots from her interventions in the spirit world to her interactions with Cotton and Eden’s paying customers. This is a fine testament to resilience.
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.
