In today’s episode, Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah sits down with Freedom Reads Founder & CEO Reginald Dwayne Betts and Steven Parkhurst, Communications Manager at Freedom Reads. Adjei-Brenyah reads from his novel Chain-Gang All-Stars, which was shortlisted for the 2025 Inside Literary Prize, the first major US literary prize awarded exclusively by incarcerated judges. Chain-Gang All-Stars takes place in an imagined future where people serving life sentences can opt-in to gladiatorial death matches in an attempt to gain their freedom. Loretta Thurwar and Hurricane Staxxx are lovers and fan favorites, and as they compete, they are forced to confront the brutal spectacle they’ve become a part of. Adjei-Brenyah delves into the idea of the prison system as a failure of imagination and reflects on the seven years he spent writing this novel. This conversation is discerning; it attempts to answer the hard questions, to understand desperation and the necessity of forgiveness. Adjei-Brenyah is sharp and curious in his consideration of what reading means for freedom.
In today’s episode, Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah sits down with Freedom Reads Founder & CEO Reginald Dwayne Betts and Steven Parkhurst, Communications Manager at Freedom Reads. Adjei-Brenyah reads from his novel Chain-Gang All-Stars, which was shortlisted for the 2025 Inside Literary Prize, the first major US literary prize awarded exclusively by incarcerated judges. Chain-Gang All-Stars takes place in an imagined future where people serving life sentences can opt-in to gladiatorial death matches in an attempt to gain their freedom. Loretta Thurwar and Hurricane Staxxx are lovers and fan favorites, and as they compete, they are forced to confront the brutal spectacle they’ve become a part of. Adjei-Brenyah delves into the idea of the prison system as a failure of imagination and reflects on the seven years he spent writing this novel. This conversation is discerning; it attempts to answer the hard questions, to understand desperation and the necessity of forgiveness. Adjei-Brenyah is sharp and curious in his consideration of what reading means for freedom.
Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah is a National Book Foundation “5 under 35” honoree and the author of Friday Black and Chain-Gang All-Stars. His Friday Black collection won the PEN/Jean Stein Book Award and the William Saroyan International Prize for Writing. His debut novel, Chain-Gang All-Stars, was a finalist for the National Book Award for Fiction and selected as a New York Times Top 10 Book of the Year. He currently lives in the Bronx.
Dwayne (0:00): You’re listening to The Freedom Takes, a podcast from national non-profit Freedom Reads. This season, we’ll hear from the four shortlisted authors for the 2025 Inside Literary Prize, the first major US literary prize awarded exclusively by incarcerated readers.
[intro music]
Dwayne (0:27): I am your host, Reginald Dwayne Betts, Founder & CEO of Freedom Reads.
Steven (0:32): And I am your co-host, Steven Parkhurst, Communications Manager at Freedom Reads.
Dwayne (0:37): Our guest today is Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah. He is the author of Chain-Gang All-Stars, which takes place in an imagined future where people serving life sentences can opt-in to gladiatorial death matches in an attempt to gain their freedom. But of course, the book has to be much more. It is the story of Loretta Thurwar and Hurricane Staxxx, who are lovers and fan favorites. And as they compete, they are forced to confront the brutal spectacle they’ve become a part of.
Steven (1:07): Nana is a National Book Foundation 5 under 35 honoree, and the author of Friday Black and Chain-Gang All-Stars. His Friday Black collection won the PEN/Jean Stein Book Award and the William Saroyan International Prize for writing. Nana’s debut novel, Chain-Gang All-Stars was a finalist for the National Book Award for Fiction and selected as a New York Times Top-10 Book of the Year. Nana currently lives in the Bronx. Man, I’m excited to talk about this book, Chain-Gang All-Stars. Let’s do it.
Nana (1:39): I’m honored to be here. Thank y’all for having me.
Dwayne (1:42): Awesome. What’s up? Man, we go way back, way back to Syracuse, man, when them students asked me 4000 questions and you did not tell me that I didn’t have to answer every one of them, right? But it is really dope to see you blow up the way you have. And Chain-Gang All-Stars is one of our four shortlisted books for the 2025 Inside Literary Prize. Now, I know you know what this is, but I like telling people that the Inside Literary Prize is the first major US literary prize awarded exclusively by incarcerated readers. Freedom Reads launched the Inside Literary Prize last year in collaboration with the National Book Foundation and the Center for Justice Innovation, and with support from literary podcaster Lori Feathers. This year, 300 readers inside prisons across six states and territories will choose the winner of the Prize. And you probably being like, “Why you say the word territory?” Because we going to Puerto Rico.
Steven: Let’s go. Let’s go.
Dwayne: Yeah, yeah. And this spring, though, right, the Freedom Reads teams will be traveling to those prisons to conduct voting and discuss the books with the judges. Now, imma tell you something. I read your book. I read it when it first came out. And, and I have a certain kind of feeling when I see the word “Chain-Gang” and, and I was excited, really, to read the book, but then, actually, I probably was more excited to reread the book, because it's easy to miss something, and I think your book rewards rereading. Folks in the Inside don't always get to chop it up with somebody like you, and they don't get to hear you read. You know, we talk about access. People in prison don't have real access to the voices of the writers that they read, the writers that they admire, the writers that they argue with, the writers that help them think. Can you read a passage from Chain-Gang All-Stars for our folks?
Nana (3:21): I absolutely can. All you really need to know is that this is about an imagined future in which convicted people who are sentenced to a sentence of at least 25 years can opt out of that and participate in these, sort of, gladiatorial death matches. And this is a early scene where we are meeting our protagonist.
READING (3:45)
She felt their eyes, all those executioners.
“Welcome, young lady,” said Mickey Wright, the premier announcer for Chain-Gang All-Stars, the crown jewel in the Criminal Action Penal Entertainment program. “Why don't you tell us your name?” His high boots were planted in the turf of the BattleGround, which was long and green, stroked with cocaine-white hash marks like a divergent football field. It was Super Bowl weekend, a fact that Wright was contractually obligated to mention between every match that evening.
“You know my name.”
She noticed her own steadiness and felt a dim love for herself. Strange. She counted herself wretched for so long. But the crowd seemed to appreciate her boldness. They cheered, though their support was edged with a brutal irony. They looked down on this Black woman, dressed in the gray jumpsuit of the incarcerated. She was tall and strong, and they looked down on her and the tight coils of black hair on her head. They looked down gleefully. She was about to die. They believed this the way they believed in the sun and the moon and the air they breathed.
“Feisty,” Wright said with a grin. “Maybe that's what we should call you–Little Miss Feisty.”
“My name is Loretta Thurwar,” she said. She looked at the people all around her. There were so many of them, so many waves of humans who would never be the object of such cruel attention. Would never know how it made you feel, both tiny and all-powerful. How the thrum of thousands was so loud, so constant, it could disappear from your ears but continue to roar as something felt in the body. Thurwar gripped the weapon she'd been given: a thin spiraling corkscrew with a cherrywood handle. It was light and simple and weak.
“Not Little Miss Feisty, then?” Wright said, walking a wide orbit around her.
“No.”
“That's probably for the best, Loretta.” He stepped towards his box. “I hate wasting good names anyway.” He laughed and the crowd echoed him. “Well, Loretta Thurwar”–he threw his playful condescension directly at her, chopping her first name into three hard syllables, using a singsong child's voice for her last–”welcome to the BattleGround, baby.”
Dwayne (6:10): Yo, you know what?
Nana: Yeah.
Dwayne: See, I said it rewards rereading. And I gotta tell you, you know, one of the first challenges I had is I don’t think that I would kill anybody to be free.
Nana: Yup.
Dwayne: And, I ain’t gonna front, man. I know so many people who are scrambling to get out of prison that the very notion… I thought it was damning. I ain’t have no, I still don’t really have no understanding. She killed a kid, yo. And I, and I get the circumstances, and yet I would like to believe, having done the harm I’ve done in this world, that I would die before I kill for freedom. And so I struggle with the book for real, because I spent most of my life chasing humanity, and I see no humanity in people who will kill for freedom.
And yet that first line took me back. “The eyes of all those executioners.” And it’s a subtle reminder that, you know, in this country, we who don’t struggle against the laws that leave the parole rate at 1% in Virginia, 2% in Alabama, and the same in many places across the country are, fundamentally, the executioners. And still, I ain’t gonna front, man. It leaves… Man, I had three people fail to get out last week. They all killed somebody. And, to be honest, I wouldn’t represent them if they was willing to kill to get free. And so I’m trying to juxtapose this sense that, that I now realize that I didn’t even hear the first two times I read the book, “all those executioners” being we the people–I get that, but I still feel like when I read the book, I am left with a complete disdain for everybody that’s on the Chain-Gang. I’m not convinced that the reading public differs from me. And so, I wonder, you know, as you’ve traveled with this book, as you wrote the book, as you grappled with the book, how much did you grapple with that? Because I know you did.
Nana (8:58): It’s the central, like, probably the primary grappling, if you want to name one. Like, how do you represent this sort of inhumanity and, but make, try your best to allow the reader–and mostly me, actually–to know that, wait, these are… Everyone is a human trying their best, but they’re being forced into an inhumane system. It’s kind of my central, in a lot of my work it’s sort of my…one of the things I’m, like, fundamentally interested in is systems that squeeze our humanity out of us. In my first book, I had some, a person who otherwise wouldn’t kill trying to kill as part of a protest. In that same book, I had people who were killing for jackets and stuff on Black Friday. I think I’m really interested in how we have these sort of systems that, either literally or symbolically, can, like, strip us of our humanity. And so, for me, the thing I tried my best to do in terms of letting these characters feel as though they were human, or as though they weren’t merely the products of, sort of, a systemic situation that was making them monsters and nothing else was just let them exist with each other and demonstrate compassion where possible. I tried my best to do, to let Thurwar be caring in the moments she could, and in the moments she wasn’t we have a sense that either you will be extremely tortured or killed if you don’t. And so, like, do you–what you said, that first line, was very important to me, because there is an executioner, and it’s not like, you know–even though, in that very first scene is one where somebody’s like, I am the very top of this, and I’m not going to kill you, you know? I’m not going to do it yet. And then the story also gets set off by a character who’s, like, almost getting freed. He’s like, I’m not going to do this one more time.
Dwayne (10:58): Actually, you know, interesting thing about it–and I thought that was a profound piece–I thought he didn’t want to be free. I thought that, that it had gotten to the point that, like–
Nana: Sunset? Yes.
Dwayne: Yeah, this was somebody saying that, “Yo, you know what? Dude, I don’t even know if I deserve freedom anymore because of what I’ve been forced to do all of this time, right?” But I feel that, yeah.
Nana (11:17): But, that’s also a huge part of it. I’m actually re-examining it. And if you think it was like, and just to be super real, like, it’s, it was a very hard and important thing like this, that question is, like, one of the primary questions. And then, if you were trying to adapt a book like this, it’s like, triple the terror, you know? And I was looking at that scene, at a scene where Sunset–
Dwayne (11:41): You need to slow down, man. You just threw some shit out there that don’t, nobody know what the fuck you talk about. And it’s fly, too. When you say, when you try to adapt a book like this, what do you mean “adapt a book like this”? You going to the movies?
Nana: So we’re try– So if we’re trying to make a television show, that’s what I’m talking about.
Dwayne: You got to tell, you know, this is a drop, man! We didn’t know there’s about to be a show. Go ahead, tell us.
Nana (11:57): I’m probably not even supposed to talk about it, but it's okay. We're trying. We're trying, and it'll probably get announced soon. And I'm working on a pilot, and that moment you just said is–this is maybe too much of a spoiler–I'm not gonna… That moment is very important. I'm working on it right now. With Sunset, I'm talking about… And what you just said to me, is it though. He's trying to, I think, but I think it's complicated. I think he's trying to say, “For me, I can't go back out there, but I want you to be able to forgive yourself for the worst thing you've ever done. And I want you to be able to hold that. I, personally, am not able to get there.”
It's kind of like a do as I say, not as I do, kind of situation with him. And so, yeah, it's a big wrestling. But what I hope, and what I've been feeling for the most part, is like, for example, my and it's something that I wrestle with even the other way too, because I've had a lot of people on, like the internet or just in real life, hit me up like, “I never thought I would feel this type of–I would cry over someone who had done X thing,” and they're showing me that they have. And so that's, so I think that by just representing people in sort of the mundane and also the spectacular, letting them be people, and like, honoring them and me as an author, having real compassion for them as even the worst quote, unquote, like a “Gunny Puddles” type of person looking at him and being like, “That's a person too.” That's a human being who is actually trying his best despite circumstance. And I think if you do that enough, if you let that be sort of your lighthouse, the reader will fill it. Or, I hope so. But the other thing you said is true, and I am terrified of that. Because I live in New York City, and we got this, in the middle of Manhattan, there's like the “Squid Game Experience,” and people can go and pay and act like they're in the Squid Game. And to me, that's so scary, because it's like, I feel like capitalism steals the iconography of, like, different texts and makes renders them, like, meaningless. And so now we have this–I'm like, Squid Game is about like the violence, the harsh, harsh, harsh violence of capitalism, but people are paying to participate in it. You know, it's like the message has gotten lost. And that's why I say, if I adapted, like, you have to really, really, really hold tight to the value and, like, the meaning of it, because so easily does it just become about the murder. It's really possible to make Chain-Gang All-Stars the show by accident, like the actual show, and I'm personally pretty terrified by that, to be real.
Steven (14:27): Yeah, I ain't gonna lie. I've been sitting here as a fan and just listening to you talk about it. And you know, for somebody that served seven days short of 30 years–I was serving an insurmountable sentence, you know, to Dwayne's point–and if you put that, if you put that option in my face, I'm gonna say no. I'm gonna say no every time. Because, you know, I always felt, you know, I had a sentence that there's not even math for, yet. They haven't even developed the math for that equation. Letters plus numbers plus numbers. And you know, not one time in the, the traveling around the country and going into these prisons to speak to the Inside Literary Prize judges that are reading this book along with three other books, not one time did they say, “Man, I would, I would kill to get out.” But I don't even think, you know, I have my own agency. When I read this book, I take it upon my own personal experiences, and I interpret it that way. You know, appreciating where, how you, how you wrote it, and where you're coming from. But once I get this book in my hands, man, it's mine. And I think that's what some of the judges are taking it as. I want to kind of set up my question by talking about some of those, those folks on the Inside, and I'm gonna put my stamp on you, my guy. Man, I'm gonna put my stamp on you, because anybody that goes Inside that hasn't served time, and will still walk through that front door, man, you know, you gotta respect that.
Nana (15:59): I feel like though, for me, though, if you write this kind of book, you have to. You have to. To me. I appreciate it, and it means a lot to me. But I just felt like, like I said, like, this, even this conversation, and even being thought about for this award means a lot to me, because more than the National Book Award, more than the, like, real, like, not just saying this to say it like–there is a community that can say that this was a book that did something or failed, and I know, and that's who it is on me. So it felt not only just like, sort of like a fair thing to do, but it, I've been enriched by the chance to go Inside, like, genuinely, like, like, like, sincerely.
Steven (16:40): I appreciate that. And I want to talk about the arc of the reader, not the arc of your writing so much right now. The arc of the reader is that, you know, I was a critic, man. You know, when Dwayne came through and he talked about, “Yo, this is, this is the book,” I remember him coming back to Freedom Reads one day and saying, “You know, for the folks that were doing life that are on our staff right now, that got a second chance out here, and we're doing great things, giving back to the community, would you have ever taken up this, this choice?” And it was a resounding no all around. So when I looked at this book, I was like, man, let me, let me check that out. Flipping through it, I go back through the acknowledgements, and the first thing that pops out to me is The Angola Three. And my guy, Al Woodfox, you know, Herman Wallace, Robert King and and I think about the parole letter that was written for me by Ashley Wennerstrom, the PhD professor at Tulane who gave up her couch to Herman Wallace for him to come home. And he died on that couch. And that was the couch that I was going to come home to for my parole. And I said, “Man, this guy, Nana, better be the truth. Better be the truth, my guy.” You cannot put that stuff in there and not be authentic.
So I went into this journey inside these prisons. And the first thing, we're in New Jersey, and this cat says, “I started reading Chain-Gang All-Stars. Man, it's like, it's like a comic.“ And I started laughing, because it was like, “Bro, what do you mean? This is like a comic.” And he's like, “Nah, it's like, it's like the Marvel Universe. Like, these are like, like, action heroes, man.” And I, and I get the symbolism of, like, desperation on the Inside. And I think that's what some people are likening these characters to. It’s not that they would go kill people to get out of prison, but like, “Where is your desperation at to get out of prison? Where's your level of desperation?” So that that was one, that was one interpretation in the morning in this New Jersey spot. And then in the afternoon, we went to a women's facility out in New Jersey and I, and man, the energy in this room was, was, was amazing. These women were so well read. You know, they were so invested in being judges for this Inside Literary Prize. And these two women, clearly, they had a fondness for each other. It appeared they were in a relationship themselves in this prison. And they said, “Nah, this book ain't about prison. This book is about love.” And I was like, “Oh, okay. Talk, talk about it.” And they broke it down, and I was like, “Man, I'm getting all these different perspectives, and here I am being a critic of somebody talking about prison when there's so many different aspects to that.”
Can you, can you talk about what it means for Chain-Gang All-Stars to be shortlisted for the 2025 Inside Literary Prize? You know that these judges, they locked up, this is going to mean a lot to them. They are the most well read people in this country. They gonna, they gonna put their stamp on that, or they go–they gonna be critics. What's your thought on that?
Nana (19:59): To just be nominated? I'm, it's, I don't know for this book, I just don't know if that I can imagine a higher honor. Like, I just can't, like, imagine it like, to be real, like, it means a lot to me because, like you said, like, a lot of people can stamp you, but a lot of stamps don't mean anything. That's why I say when you when you said, like, me going in–to me, I had to. And because also, again, it's not, like, nobody's perfect. It's not like, there's like limitations, because there's a lot of gambles. And I like what you said with the arc of–thinking about the arc of reader, and a different type of reader, because I think they're both correct. I come from, like, manga and anime, you know, growing up, but also compassion and love is kind of like my big thesis at the end of the day. But usually, by way of violence, though, like, I usually, like, almost like, I kind of understand how violence is pretty pervasive in our culture, and that's why I think I've been in the tradition of a show, like a “Squid Game”, where it's using violence as like this… There's a human sort of, like, flare that makes you lean into it, but that show is trying to get to, “Hey, wait, what about community?” That show's really more about, like, what if we, like, came together instead of fought each other? But this game is forcing us to, like, try to kill each other. And this, this, my book, is in like, a similar vein, where it's like, I mean, there's other things happening as well, but love is the thing. Like, being like that, that, that potential for love–even love of yourself–it's, I don't know, it's the main thing.
The arc of the reader is important because I'm also thinking about the arc of a specific reader when I say that. I did, like, kind of front load, like, if you think of, if you look at this book, it's, I don't know, almost 400 something pages, maybe 300 something pages, 350, let's say. But like, there's probably, it's probably max 15% of it is like fights. But a lot of them are, like, front loaded, right in that early scene. So you kind of are thinking you're gonna get like this, like Gladiator, big thing. And again, in some ways, I'm taking a little bit of like a gamble, like a, or, like, an ethical gamble, I guess, because I know what is attractive to all– To so many of us. And it's almost like, not a bait and switch exactly, but I think about–so the show “Atlanta”, they talk about how the first couple episodes they made, they acted like they were going to be, like, just about him trying to become a rapper. And then they switched it because they knew they wanted to do so many more things afterwards. And in some ways, like, and because, like, that sort of more simple, familiar stories, like more–not digestible, but just more easy to consume. And I know how readers are, kind of, which is again–and, also, even myself, it's like–I give you this thing, and then by the time I switch it, it's not only just, it's not only saying, “Gotcha,” it's also to say, like, “Oh, look how I have evidence in, that in your experience of reading this that violence is pervasive and attractive, even to you, the reader, right now.” And so, the, because it starts with that melancholia bishop, and then Staxxx, and then Thurwar again, it's like, fight, fight, fight. And then, like, becomes like the real story. That thing you just said is real, like, where it's like, if, but if someone stops, let's say, on page, like, 42, like, “Fuck this,” then I didn't do that–then something kind of maybe negative happened.
Dwayne (23:26): Yeah, but I mean, you–it’s the bravery to trust the reader like that. It actually, it's interesting, because I ain’t gonna front, Steven, man. You know, you get in a conversation with you say, you know, you did seven days shy of 30 years. And the thing I find remarkable about that is, it's not apparent. And so I wonder, because one of the tensions in here, a real tension, I think, is that, what do you become after having done a thing? And, and I don't know, I guess I wonder from your perspective, and really from Nana's perspective, but having been in that spot, how do you confront a future that you can't see? When you when you really, you know. I say what I wouldn't have done, but it's hard to say that. It's hard to get the world to believe that when you're Inside. And so I wonder how you confronted those pages when you were thinking about, you know, when you were Inside imagining freedom that was just, you know, felt perpetually out of reach. How could you really actualize what you would be on the other side of it? But, and I asked that of you, because I think that's what the characters were asking themselves. You know, they were asking themselves, “Can I imagine freedom for myself, and can I imagine one that was suffused with love?” And that wasn't everybody. And I also should say that, for what it's worth, everybody wasn't in a Chain-Gang. Those people opted in. I could just dislike those folks for opting in. You know, it wasn't necessarily true that everybody in the system opted in. Obviously they didn't. And so I guess I'm wondering, though, did you struggle with conceptualizing who you are today when you still had that number?
Steven (25:01): Oh, definitely. You don't even have the vocabulary. You know, you don't have the vocabulary when you're doing the time. And it's like, you know, in this book, when they go from Season 32 to Season 33, right? It's like, they changed the game on you. And it's like, how many times when you're on the Inside do they change the game on you? So it's like, you know, laws are changing. And it's like, in my mind, anyway, you know, as a juvenile, and as like, you know, I still had this freedom of naivete, right, of, “No, the system's gonna change for me because, man, I was, I was a kid, man, I screwed up and, like, in a big way.” And, like, you know, like, people don't see the way that you sleep at night. Like, that's the thing, is, like, in this book, you're trying to describe the way people sleep at night, right? How they go back to their rooms, and the way that you juxtapose the violence with the love story and the way they had, you know… These are folks that you know came back from these battles and then would break bread together, right? And I think about that, you know, society seeing, you know, inside the fence and like, you know, what Freedom Reads does to to confront what prison does to the spirit and how we try to elevate and amplify the joy, you know, of human beings living lives, whether they're inside the fence or not. So for me, it was always, “Man, there's gonna be a Season 33, I'm telling you, it's gonna be a Season 33 and it's gonna change in my favor, right?” And I'm going to try to influence that in some way, whether it's, you know, contacting a million people, whatever. So I never got to the point where I ran out of the imagination from my desperation.
Dwayne (26:54): Which is what happened to Sunset. That's a real name, too. You did a dope job in naming characters in this joint. But I think Sunset, didn't he have, didn't he have a rape case?
Nana: Yes, yes.
Dwayne: And I felt like Sunset was grappling, not just with the violence of being on the Chain Gang, and his daughter was trying to get him out. And I felt like it was this interesting tension between, you know, the crimes that we commit to get into prison, and then you take the violence and the Inside as a metaphor, but that violence was really like court cases. And I feel like oftentimes the public looks at us the same way that we look at those characters, right? You see somebody, I know you heard it! Fake hate, fake hate, fake hate. I mean, I've been a federal law clerk. You know, reading the habeas corpus petitions and listening to my peers and my colleagues saying that people are just trying to scam their way out of prison. And it's like, no, people are fighting with the only tools that they have, right? And I guess, I wonder if that’s true, is it? Do you think that something is true about Sunset, just like–how do you escape the thing that you've done? You know? I mean, how do you imagine your freedom on the other side? Was that something that you were trying to–I don't even care if it was in a book or not, because it's so subtle. I wonder, when you were writing these characters, did you try to get in their head and see if they could grapple with what freedom would look like, the possibility, when they hoping for that season 32 [33]. Because everybody ain't want it.
Nana (28:12): Yeah, and first. And I think, what, uh, what a, like, a super human power of imagination to sustain that kind of imaginative faith for that long, I think is really special. But I think that Sunset was grappling, and he couldn't imagine a world where he had to, like, look his daughter in the eye and be– And I think he was like, I think he was already struggling with that, but no, because of what he had done to become the Grand Colossal it, he became overburdened, but the word imagination is so important, and that's why, towards the end, again, I mean, when they say that those, those things, like, “Just because something hasn't happened before doesn't mean it can't happen.” Like those, though, like those moments are so, so important. Because I think it is a failure of imagination that allows prison to exist even as it does at all. It's a failure of imagination and like the redemptive potential of any person that allows these systems to perpetuate as they do.
And so, I think, I think that Sunset, despite the goodness he tried his best to sort of, like, put out into the world–and it echoed through, I think, people like Thurwar and Staxxx–for himself, he's like, “I can't quite do it for myself.” You know, sometimes you could, like, be–I think we all struggle with that. And again, I think that's why Inside-outside, I think the idea of being okay with yourself, of forgiving yourself, of giving yourself, of finding grace, is a really difficult thing for all of us, but those Unside are forced to think about it in a particular way, which is actually really important for, like, the larger ecosystem of the planet to have access to. Which is why I think I got this book right here, like, and this is actually not a good example, because he actually did nothing, but Charles de Flores’s The Warrior Within. He actually sent it to me. This is someone on death row in Texas. Great writer, so I want to shout him out. But like when I was in, when I was in Parchman, what they were talking about, I was with a group of, like, a book club, and they, like, again, extremely well read, and they were talking about how, in here, we are forced to consider grace in a really, really serious, like, you know, like, critical way. And they're doing it, and that's–
Dwayne (30:31): Imma go ahead and disagree. I wanna disagree before we go because you ain't forced to consider grace. Them dudes should be commended. They are choosing– Steven was not forced to have an imagination. And he chose to. That’s a lot of people on the Inside, even in your book, you guys have grimy dudes in a book, they just, they bought the blood. So I just want to be clear that, like–
Nana: That’s a fact.
Dwayne: –no, no, these guys–I mean men, women, children–and prison is a cauldron that allows you to make a choice that some people don't even have to be confronted with. But I want to be clear, people are choosing–
Nana: Right?
Dwayne: –to imagine a better sense of self. Like prison is not forcing you to do anything.
Nana: Crucible.
Dwayne: Right. It's like, ‘cause you know that crucible will crush you or define you. Yeah, everybody ain't becoming. Some people are cool with who they were, and that's why I think Sunset becomes a bit of a powerful character. And I hate to cut you off, but I just don't want to–
Nana (31:25): No, that’s, I think that's an important point like these– And, I was in a really interesting–so I, they have, like, these different houses in Parchment and those men are there for long enough sentences and also have some kind of, like, serious ailment that they probably won't get outside again. And, so they have a separate, like, section. I want to say it was, like, 31. I gotta…I can't remember the number. And yeah, they and even so–I guess I'm saying in dire circumstances they were choosing to, like, grapple with the idea of grace really seriously, and it was, that's why it was the most moving event I've ever done. Like, I don't be crying in my book events. So I was, like, getting ready to or not getting ready, like, like getting tears in my eyes just listen, just like talking and chopping it up with this idea of grace that transcends, like, any specific wrongdoing, but like, like that really like, wrestling with it was pretty it was an important moment for me, like, in my like, beyond being a writer, actually, just generally. Because I think it's a conversation we all have to have, because the fact of the prison helps inform us all towards like, having a sense of like, “But if you do this, you know, screw you forever.” And I think that's a dangerous idea to have in, like, the water.
Steven (32:42): Just one last, one last point on the Sunset thing is, you got slick on, and I don't know if you did intentional or not, man. I want to hear if it was intentional. You know, Sunset’s daughter, I'm reading–and then–Sunset’s daughter come in, and it's like, you got to get confronted, it's like, “Now look at me. Look at me, Look what you did. And I'm here with this sign,” and whether or not you know she knew what she was going to write on that sign or whatever, but you know, “I'm here, and maybe, Imma jump over this joint and I'm going to try to come fight you or whatever, but you're gonna see me and you're gonna hear me, because you did this to my people like, what?” Just real quick, man, touch on that.
Nana (33:22): I think that how the character Mari came to be is I always knew I wanted to represent those who were, like, in the fight against any oppressive system, because to, like, act like that doesn't exist is, I think, not useful. There's always people, no matter how dire or overwhelming, that are fighting against. And I actually thought Nia was going to be like the guy I was going to focus with, but then I got this character, Mari, and she just felt way more interesting. And then I was like, “Well, what's her thing?” And I decided–I figured out–that she was Sunset’s daughter, and a lot of the Sunset stuff came, like, kind of on, like, almost like, second draft, basically, like, if you can believe it, I didn't really have, like, the strong, like, that thread came, became more clear later on. But I think I was doing research on the children of incarcerated people, and just seeing how this, and I knew a lot of people whose families were incarcerated and/or had family members who were incarcerated, and I just wanted to speak to that moment. But I also wanted to have a chance for that person to like struggle as well, meaning Mari. I wanted her to like, “That's my dad, but we don't really have a connection. But also like, I am in this work. I am, I care to work against this thing.” And her connection ends up being closer to, like, Thurwar and Staxxx, even, you know, it's just a complicated thing. But I just feel like you can't leave that part of the story out. And I also wanted someone who's overtly working towards this and understands the ethical questions. Because when you write a book like this, the first, the number one question you get everywhere you go, “What about rapists? What about murderers?” And I wanted someone who's not afraid, explicitly, overtly, to wrestle with that question.
Dwayne (35:04): This is actually one of, I think, one of the more powerful things that happened in a book. The grappling with violence, period. Because the reason, you know. My pet peeve, one of the things I struggle with is that we don't talk about violence in this country. And the reason why we don't talk about mercy and forgiveness is because we have some actual violence. We blame prison on slavery–I just don't believe it, dude. I just don't believe it. I picked up a pistol because I wanted to. I put it to somebody's head. Wasn't no white man involved. It's more white people locked up than black people. You know, this a podcast, but people should know that Steven is white. He's not black. As far as I know, they made him go to the same prison. You know what I mean.
Steven (35:44): Same yard, same khakis.
Dwayne (35:47): No, for real though, it is, it is, it is utterly disrespectful to hear people talk about this as if it's a black and white question. Yeah, my people Inside, they ain't just, they don't just have skin complexions like mine. They Puerto Rican, they El Salvadorian, they from Guatemala, they White, they in my community. And I do think that it's something that your text did in terms of raising that question of violence that helped us think about it.
But you just said something else that, I want to make sure I ask this one question. Because you a writer, though, you know what I mean? And you said, believe it or not, it came in the second draft. I was like, “What do you mean? Believe it or not.” I hope it came in the second draft, it could even came in the third draft. Can you talk a little, because there's a lot of cats Inside that’s writers, and sometimes they think they read a brilliant book like this, and they think it just grew, you know, like you woke up, typed all of the words out. Can you just talk, like, briefly about what it means to be a writer, to grapple with a big problem like this, and have to go to the page and figure out something that you didn't know before? Because you just admitted that, that you didn't even had his character. So, that means that you discovered something within the writing about all of these folks. Can you talk a little bit about that?
Nana (36:46): Absolutely. Yeah. So, for me as a writer, I think I'm a much better reviser than I am, like, a first-drafter. I revise for a long time and really slowly. I try not–I say how long it takes me to write a book. Sometimes I feel like writers like to say a number of years, and it's kind of cap, but like, because, like, you're doing other things. But, like, it took me seven years to write this book because, I mean, my other book came out, my life was happening, blah, blah, blah. But also I had to kind of grow my own understanding of the subject. I had to grow how I felt. I had to understand it better. I had to read Albert Woodfox’s book. I had to read a lot of Ruth Wilson Gilmore, I had to read accounts from people. I had to, like, grow as just a person, because that ethical question–we're raised in a space where, like, in a world where I'm made to accept prison as a premise, fundamentally from jump, and that was something I had to kind of get away from. And not to say, like, I think it's also important to know, like, people do bad things. Like, I didn't want to write a book where, like, there's a version of Chain-Gang where it's like, well, actually they got scammed into being a criminal, and actually they didn't do anything wrong, and no. People do harm.
But I think it's a failure of an imagination, our response to that and so… But I had to grow my personal imagination through my understanding of the history of the prison and sort of the way it works, and also its inefficacy, and also, you know, all these other things to, like, actually know what the hell I was even talking about. Or not even–how I even actually felt, as opposed like, the, you know, you kind of receive, like, a default download from the culture. People do bad things. They should go to prison for a long time. That simple. And then by doing the work of the research, and also, just like the kind of, I don't want to say, “soul work” may sound so fufu, but like. There's a group I work with called “The Rockland Coalition to End [the new] Jim Crow.” And I remember we, one of the events they did was they brought, like, these parents of a young man who had died in solitary confinement. They made a model of, like, what his room was and how small it was. And you go, and you know that kind of stuff, like, like. And talking to them, just talking to them about, like, “We lost our son this way.” All those things–that's separate from being a writer, but that had to kind of flow into me. And then you have to write a draft, and then on the line level, you realize, “Wait, this is weak. This is not it.” You write another draft, you scrutinize, you scrutinize, scrutinize. That's why I really love when I get to engage, like writers or readers who are really critical, because I don't know, it's like, that's the real stage, that's the real stage for a writer, people are actually wrestling with it, actually taking it and not taking it–it's it's a good he wrote it, it has some random medal, it must be good. Like, that's not real. So, yeah, for me, revision is actually the biggest part of my, that's where my magic sauce is. If I have any, it's in, I don't mind revising endlessly, pretty much. And I look for both, like, the music of the language, so I feel like I'm informed by poetry in that sense. Like I think the po– I think all poets are kind of like our highest level, because they pay attention at the syllable level. So I try to do that, but I'm also trying to like, grow my appreciation of, like, the world I'm making. What am I actually saying? What do I actually, actually believe in? And I saw myself grow.
Dwayne (40:02): I'm gonna end with one question, because we always end with this one. AndFrederick Douglass said that when we, when we learn to read, we become forever free. What does that mean to you? And how do you think about the relationship between reading and freedom?
Nana (40:17): To start my first book, the quote I used was a Kendrick Lamar quote. It said, “Anything you imagine, you possess.” I think as long as you have the ability to imagine better, different, imagine more, I don't know, other possibilities, there's a certain kind of sense of freedom in that. And I know that my imagination has been bolstered and facilitated and grown by the fact that I can read. I've gotten to be in conversation with people who are long dead, people who speak languages I'll never speak. I've gotten to be boundless. So I think reading kind of gives you this boundless kind of spirit, and that feels like freedom to me. So that's how I would take it.
[outro music]
Dwayne (41:02): This year, Freedom Reads brought the Inside Literary Prize to 15 prisons across the country, and discussed the shortlisted books with over 300 incarcerated readers, who are judging the Prize.
Rolando Vargas (41:16): I chose Chain-Gang All-Stars just for the reason that it spoke to me. It like it broke down, how life in prison is, how we're suffering, how our families, our friends, our loved ones, even the victims, even the family of the victim, how they suffer, how they get affected, how we're all affected by a wrong choice or mistake, and how in prison, we change. But nobody sees our change. No one sees anything. The society sees us as outcasts. They don't want no second chance for us, and that's all we're begging for, is a second chance, just a chance to be out there, just a chance to prove ourselves.
Dwayne (42:07): That was Rolando, a 2025 Inside Literary Prize judge at Western Illinois Correctional Center.
Thank you for joining us for The Freedom Takes. This season of The Freedom Takes was produced by Sasha Rotko, Tyler Sperrazza, and Madeline Sklar. You can learn more about Freedom Reads by visiting our website: freedomreads.org or following us on social media. You can support our work at freedomreads.org/donate.
[outro music]