KEVIN Brown
AMES Holbrook
Authors of the upcoming Rulers of the Ninth Ward series
Slinging the hardcore NOLA stories.
S.A. Cosby blurbed Phillip Thomspon's last book, and now Phillip Thompson has blurbed ours! Phillip Thompson is one of our favorite writers in our crime fiction space, so we sent him our manuscript and asked him if he would write us a reaction, and he did! Cannot express how honored we are that he took the time, and how happy it makes us to post his words here.
Books by Kevin
Watch Now
DISCHARGE trailer
DISCHARGE on CNN
Who the hell are Kevin and Ames?
Good question!
KEVIN BROWN is the author of Stupid Sh*t We Did in College … (and stuff), and Kindred Spirits. Kindred Spirits was awarded the grand prize by the Indie Diamond Book Awards and named winner of its category by the Best Indie Book Awards. The son of New Orleans Natives, Brown has spent a lifetime in and out of New Orleans, having attended kindergarten in the 7th Ward and college in Uptown.
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​AMES HOLBROOK, acclaimed author of Discharge and The Deporter, is an Army veteran and a former street-level deportation officer whose life story has been sold for both documentary and dramatic series. Ames has been on over fifty radio and TV shows to share his insight on subjects from immigration to the military. He lives with his family in New Orleans and has an office in the Department of Homeland Security Headquarters in Washington, D.C.
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Kevin and Ames were roommates at Tulane University. They continue to roam the streets of NEW ORLEANS together.
At Tulane, we're like
thoroughbred horses
running in the mud.
The authors enjoying a libation at THE BOOT, a local Tulane drinkery.
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The Boot: serving students and alumni since 1965.
THE EAST
New Orleans’ most famous and Instagram-perfect neighborhoods are the ones west of the Industrial Canal that are packed as dense as Times Square. In the French Quarter, Marigny, and Bywater, the homes run into each other, edge to edge. The front doors open up to the sidewalk. New Orleans East, though, is stretched out. Its neighborhoods dot the swamp. Human intrusion, in the form of roads and buildings, is precarious.
Serendipity Strikes
The Red Bandana Brothers Meet
Twister Board
One of the first things we (the eight residents of our dorm suite) did that year was institute a game using a Twister Board spinner—a game we dubbed … Twister Board. The game was simple and direct and went something like this: someone would yell “Twister Board,” state a consequence and then spin the board. Whosever picture the needle landed on (we had placed a school photo of each of us on the board) had to carry out the consequence, no questions asked. We even shook hands with spit to make it official and non-negotiable.
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Episode I
“Twister Board! Loser has to strip down to his underpants and socks, tie a cape around his neck, and skip around the dorm balcony with a trophy singing “Aquarius”… six times.” Boy, what a doozy right out of the gate. I hadn’t realized things would get this crazy when I signed up, but bring it on. It was my senior year, and I was ready for anything. Well, almost anything. Someone stepped up to the Twister Board spinner mounted on the wall and gave the arrow a good flick. Bldldldldldldldldldldldld. (That’s the sound of the needle spinning if you hadn’t guessed.) The spinner slowed down and came to rest on … Ames. Ames Holbrook was a sophomore who was training to be an Army officer. He wanted to be an Airborne Ranger, and for an ROTC guy, he was game for pretty much anything. I was just glad it was him and not me. I think, secretly, Ames was happy it was him. He took on his consequence with gusto and didn’t waste any time stripping down to his socks and skivvies, fashioning a cape out of a bed sheet, and grabbing his trophy prop. (We just happened to have a trophy handy for occasions like this.) He flung open the door, spilled out onto the balcony, and away he went, merrily skipping along and proudly holding up his trophy as he butchered the song “Aquarius” from the musical Hair. It was a sight to behold, and we didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry. He seemed to relish it, so we laughed. By Ames’ third trip around the balcony, the entire floor had come out of their rooms to witness the spectacle, laughing and taking pictures for posterity’s sake. I didn’t need photos for posterity because the image of Ames skipping around the balcony in his drawers and a cape had been emblazoned on my brain forever. By Ames' sixth trip, a crowd had gathered below and was cheering him on. I’ll be damned, good for him. Still, better him than me.
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Episode II
“Twister Board! Loser has to spend the night in a sleeping bag in front of the neighbors’ door.” Bldldldldldldldldldldldld. (That’s the sound … oh, never mind). And the loser is … Ames. Ouch! 0-for-2. He was batting .000 and not starting well with Twister Board challenges. Even the worst batter lucks out and gets a hit now and then. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut occasionally (probably not the right idiom). Ames couldn’t win for losing. Around 11:00 pm that night, Ames set up his sleeping bag right in front of the neighbors’ door (the same stuck-up women from the previous year), crawled in, and fell asleep. Ames had chosen the women on my side of the dorm because they were much bitchier than the ones on his side. The dorm doors opened inward, but the screen doors opened outward, meaning the women of Irby 205 weren’t going anywhere without getting past Ames. A few hours later, I awoke to a commotion outside and heard what sounded like people arguing. I poked my head out the door and spied one of the neighbor women and her boyfriend yelling at Ames, who acted as if it was perfectly normal for him to be wedged against their screen door in a sleeping bag. They were pissed at Ames for obvious reasons, and he was pissed at them for rousting him from his deep slumber. A standoff ensued, but Ames finally relented and removed himself from in front of the neighbors’ door. It seemed we didn’t need the Twister Board. We could give Ames any insane task, and he’d do it willingly. It takes a certain kind of person to be an Airborne Ranger—tough, courageous, disciplined—and slightly off-kilter. Ames would make a great Ranger because he was all four.
Episode III
As I said before, Barrett was a significant coke dealer, and one of us had to go. And I may have mentioned to Ames that I was looking to either get a new roommate or get the hell out of Irby 203, now a notorious campus drug den. Ames and I seemed more compatible as roomies, so we hatched a plan … “Twister Board! Losers have to swap dorm rooms.” Bldldldldldldldldldldldld. And the first loser is … Mike, Ames’ roommate. Yes! Oops, I couldn’t seem too eager. Barrett had no idea how much I wanted out of 203. He was too busy getting high. The first part of our equation had been solved. Now for part two. If the Twister needle landed on my face, I was home free and out of the drug den for good. Bldldldldldldldldldldldld. The needle took its sweet time, landing on a victim. I’m happy to report when it finally did, the sorry sap was me. Hell yeah, baby! The deed was done. The only drawback was having to move all my shit but fuck it; beggars can’t be choosers. I grabbed my stuff, waved Barrett goodbye, and headed out of the drug den for good. Irby 204, here I come.
Note: Barrett eventually fled campus, never to be heard from again. It seems the feds got wind of his drug operation and were tightening the screws. His new roommate, Mike, wasn’t so lucky. He got swept up in the drug bust and ended up doing hard time in a forced labor camp in Pointe aux Chenes. Good thing I got out of 203 when I did.
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—from Stupid Sh*t We Did in College … (and stuff)
Accolades
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As editor of the Army Times, I refused to print any part of DISCHARGE because it was not for a general audience. DISCHARGE is outrageous, bawdy, laugh-out-loud funny and so ridiculous It Can’t Be True... But It Is. Hands down, some of the best writing I’ve read in a LONG time. Inspiration for troops and civilians, and dangerous as hell. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Phillip Thompson
Author of "Into the Storm" and "Deep Blood"
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Written with a cinematic eye and perfect timing, Kindred Spirits cuts a slice of antebellum American history and lays it bare. Brown has hit the mark with this slim first novel, capturing at once the unique setting of the slavery-infected South and the universal theme of the human quest for freedom.
Seth Biderman
Author of Ragers
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Hey Kevin, I bought and read your book, Stupid Sh*t We Did in College. There is in fact some good sh*t in there. I was particularly relieved to not find myself included. I remember fondly the streetcar parties with the keg. Needless to say, long ago disallowed.
Michael Nius Professor of Architecture, Tulane University
Accolades for BAYOU SAVAGES: The first book in the "Ruler's" series
Bayou Savages may be the most accurately titled novel I’ve read in a few years. The story takes place in the humid environs of New Orleans and the Mississippi River, aka, the bayou, and most of the characters are savages. Not savages in the Last of the Mohicans way, but in the Scarface-style NC-17 way, where men bereft of morality commit unspeakable acts.
New Orleans being my favorite city not named New York, I’ve always found it seductive. Kevin Brown and Ames Holbrook are similarly seductive in the way they draw the reader into their tale of an art heist conducted to perfection by a quartet brought together by the one thing they have in common: the rough and tumble community that produced them. Brown and Holbrook unreel this story at a casual but intimate pace, as if they are telling it to you on a stroll through the Big Easy while they point out the interesting parts of the city. Except the city isn’t beignets and Mardi Gras beads; it’s NOLA’s scruffy cousin, New Orleans East, hugged up against Pontchartrain and brimming with not exactly society’s finest. Beyond the razzle dazzle of flashy and sadistic criminals, Bayou Savages takes you through the myriad chambers of New Orleans that tourists never see—or at least don’t realize what they are seeing.
Having read Holbrook’s previous work, I was prepared for his style and delighted to see he hasn’t changed. Writing with Brown didn’t diminish his unique Hunter S. Thompson-esque, almost-gonzo technique. If anything, the collaboration enhanced it. And as is often the case with Holbrook, his fiction reads more true-crime than crime fiction. Because it has to be fiction … right?
In a city full of colorful characters, Bayou Savages unveils its contribution to the galaxy of underworld figures who captivate—and horrify you—with their flair. The story is narrated by Ray, a writer who serves as the reluctant narrator who remains aloof and often inscrutable as he dutifully narrates a tale that at times seems otherworldly in its deeds and goals. Even so, Ray, like any writer, can’t help but to become involved with the people and events he observes, which of course makes him an accessory to a crime. In one ever-expanding discussion about how “meta” our protagonist’s role is—one that nearly reaches absurdity—Ray remarks that, “Nothing makes me more depressed as a writer than the idea of writing about a writer writing.”
As a writer myself, I can only add: Meta, indeed.
As in any good heist story, Ray is thrown together with the unlikeliest of teammates: Jimmy Nguyen, New Orleans’ “most notorious” criminal and gun-runner who works the streets with impunity; Carter Champagne, a wealthy techno-geek who soured on Silicon Valley and returned home; and, Manivong, a psychopath who is a native Laotian reared in Tennessee. Their mission is to sell a stolen painting for millions—without being killed by the local mob, deported to Vietnam (in Jimmy’s case), being arrested, or killed in other ways in the simmering resentment and violence of New Orleans East.
Bayou Savages is a strong cup of coffee and not for the faint-hearted, but more importantly, it’s a love letter to a city that has seen more than its share of tragedy yet found a way to flourish. And, like the city, the key for these deeply flawed characters in the story is the love of the people who inhabit it.
—Phillip Thompson, bestselling author of Not Dead Enough
