"More layered insight than the page count should allow." —MTV News
"A rich tapestry of intense character study." —Art in America magazine
"One of the most unflinching and bone-true things you’ll read all year." —Fiction Advocate
"An antidote to the rigamarole of gay lit." —Mask magazine
"A complex. . .look at one man’s experience of being black, queer, smart, soft, tough, artistic, and constantly in motion between rural and urban cultures." —Kirkus Reviews
"Performance artist Purnell beautifully captures a personality through introspection and memory in this slim novel. . . . a compelling portrait of a particular disaffected kind of gay youth caught between religion, culture, and desire." —Publishers Weekly
“It’s a true novel, chaptered, and bound, that not only holds its own as queer literature, with its unapologetically misanthropic narrative, but also expands upon it.” —San Francisco Chronicle
"Slim yet potently realized, with a lot to ponder." —The Bay Area Reporter
"An artist of many talents, from writing to dance, Purnell shows in his debut novel a strong control of language coupled with a willingness to take risks." —Rain Taxi
"Told like a punk rock Capote, this story of returning home has personality for days."—BKLYN BookMatch: Our 50 Favorite Books from 2017
“This is the book you fall asleep reading and wake up excited to get back to. A Cult Masterpiece with so many memorable characters and phrases you’ll want to grab strangers and read paragraphs to them.” —Kathleen Hanna
“I have always admired Brontez Purnell’s writing, and this novel is his greatest achievement yet. Purnell is never careful, never evasive. He hits you with honesty, passion, painful humor and never stops.” —Mike Albo, author of Hornitio
“Brontez Purnell is foul-mouthed and evil. Be warned: this book will make you cackle out loud like you've got the Devil inside you then it will break your heart. Be careful where you read it. BUT DO READ IT.” —Justin Vivian Bond
“Since I Laid My Burden Down is a dance between grit and eloquence. With epic detail and crude truth, Brontez Purnell reminds us that the lessons of survival and love are learned through life's most fucked-up circumstances. Building bridges between tradition, ancestry, Southern punk, blackness and queerness, Brontez has written a story that helps us laugh, grieve, and breathe." —Cristy C. Road, author of Spit and Passion
“Since I Laid My Burden Down has a fearless (sometimes reckless) humor as Brontez Purnell interrogates what it means to be black, male, queer; a son, an uncle, a lover; Southern, punk, and human. An emotional tightrope walk of a book and an important American story rarely, if ever, told.” —Michelle Tea, author of Black Wave
2017-03-21
Sex, drugs, punk rock, and Sunday sermons. When DeShawn takes leave of his fast life in San Francisco and returns to his rural Alabama hometown, he finds time to slow down and contemplate his past and the many men—fathers, lovers, and friends—who have made him who he is. Purnell's debut novel (Johnny Would You Love Me If My Dick Were Bigger?, 2015, etc.) is structured as a series of flashbacks to DeShawn's childhood and young adulthood, which is peopled with an abusive stepdad, a feuding mother and grandmother, and kids who share his love of 1990s punk music, partying, and sexual experimentation. Sex and self-fashioning are at the heart of this narrative, and the novel is refreshingly frank about desires both normalized and taboo. DeShawn, whose queerness becomes obvious to his family and community early on, must navigate sexual interactions with kids his own age and the leering adult clergy and teachers whose own desires are warped into power trips (DeShawn "marveled at how much of his young adult life was spent in a room getting spanked by a dirty old white man"). DeShawn's path of sexual discovery is linked to his discovery of self, and as his story unfolds, questions of who, and how, to love become more clearly articulated. DeShawn is a wild child, but he is also an uncle, a nephew, a son, and a community member. Purnell treats his subjects with a heavy dose of dry humor, as when DeShawn's "fag-loving aunt" gives him a handful of Klonopin after a funeral and tells him "Don't overdose, bitch." The novel's style is messy, and DeShawn's inner dialogue doesn't always provide much depth. But DeShawn's story, like any honest story, is a messy one and, for all its rough edges, entertaining. A complex, sometimes overly frenetic, look at one man's experience of being black, queer, smart, soft, tough, artistic, and constantly in motion between rural and urban cultures.