When Larry Brown passed away in November, 2005, he left the literary world bereft. But he also left a manuscript. Posthumously published by Algonquin of Chapel Hill in March of this year, A Miracle of Catfish is further proof America lost one its premier writers of modern fiction. Brown’s stature as a great Southern writer has long been firmly placed in the minds of those who knew, and it is with Catfish Brown may well earn accolades from a wider audience. 
Born in William Faulkner’s home town of Oxford, Mississippi in 1951, the literary traditions of the town seeped into Brown’s life from the beginning. He read voraciously throughout his childhood and teenage years, but never graduated college. Arriving home in 1972 to Oxford after a stint in the Marine Corps, Brown worked a series of jobs before becoming a firefighter. It was during these years that he began to write. By his account, he wrote six or seven novels and hundreds of short stories in his auto-didactic quest to become a writer. The unconventional trajectory of Brown’s writing career is reflected in his work; it quickly becomes apparent that nothing comes easy in the lives of Brown’s characters.
Brown was first published in 1988 with a short story collection, Facing the Music. But it was his first novel, Dirty Work, published just a year later, which heralded his arrival. In his powerful debut, two Vietnam vets, one black, one white, lay side by side in a veteran’s hospital. The two men, one living for some 22 years in that very hospital with no arms and no legs, the other equally ravaged both physically and emotionally, try to cope with the brutal legacy of the war. Shifting perspective between the two in a masterful interplay of colloquial southern song, the Mississippi blood runs deep in Brown’s intense paean to the ‘lost’ survivors of the conflict. Profoundly affecting, Dirty Work was hailed upon its publication as a singular and brilliant antiwar novel as good as any other of its kind.
After the success of Dirty Work, and a short story collection, Big Bad Love a year later, Brown was able to pursue writing full-time. He continued through the 90’s with a string of novels all published by Algonquin of Chapel Hill, in partnership with lifelong editor Shannon Ravenel. And it was in the hands of Ravenel the manuscript of A Miracle of Catfish was entrusted. For in November, 2004, at the age of 54, Brown suffered an untimely heart attack and passed away.
As Ravenel disclosed in her introduction to Catfish, Brown’s manuscripts tended towards the overlong. Generally, Ravenel would suggest cuts, and Brown, considering himself, for all intents and purposes done with the work by the time he turned it in, would accept the suggestions without hesitation. It is precisely this relationship and its implicit trust which allows for such a welcomed posthumous release.
At the time of Brown’s death, the manuscript weighed in at over 700 pages, and was very nearly complete. In addition, Brown left a series of small notes on how the book would end. With careful cuts by Ravenel (the edits are marked and available, along with the original manuscript, in the archives at Ole Miss,) A Miracle of Catfish is a testament to a writer truly hitting his stride.
In Catfish, Brown collected all the themes of his life work, the scenes and textures of the south, and the laden vernacular of his surrounding, and spun them into a poetic and brutal narrative with a raw edge. Brown writes of the rural poverty of backwoods southern life, the misery of defeated expectations; the self loathing and regret brought on by failure, and the inability to act as even oneself would wish. The legacy of abusive home life, unchecked and unhinged alcoholism, and the near universal desire to escape, all lie at the heart of Catfish and many of Brown’s other work. But also redemption, hope, and the desire to love and be loved.
That Catfish is not finished is irrelevant. Brown’s work stands alone and his messages are clear.