On the Rails introduces Cowboy, a young man full of agitation and wanderlust (and also dodging the cops), who rides freight trains across the 1980s and 90s, on a quest to overcome his demons, find freedom and sobriety and someone to love, especially himself.
Spanning fifteen years, his travels satisfy a thirst to see the country and take him from his small Midwestern town to cities and crime, rail yards and hobo camps. Swayed by drink, he finds himself either in rehab, on the run, or in prison. A chance encounter on a train with a woman and her young son gives him that sense of purpose and belonging he yearns for, though addiction will overpower love and send him spiraling. In his darkest hour, he hops a train toward the Chickasaw Nation in Ada, Oklahoma—where he is an enrolled, though disconnected, citizen—uncertain what lies ahead and if he can conquer his addiction before it kills him and reconcile with the family he craves.
Epic and intimate, heartbreaking and infuriating, On the Rails is inspired by my rebellious and charismatic brother and humanizes our current crises of addiction and homelessness and explores the power of honesty and forgiveness, as well as the contradictions of having a home or wandering, belonging or being free.
It will appeal to readers of Sleepwalk by Dan Chaon (a gritty road novel with a likable mercenary seeking family), Cherry by Nico Walker (the dark and sometimes comic crimes and consequences of addiction), Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh (the impacts of self-loathing and shame and desire to escape), and David Joy’s novels (rural noir and coming-of-age).
Three short blasts of a train whistle grabbed him. He looked across the street, down a couple blocks to the train yard, and saw the locomotive gleaming in the twilight. Where was it headed? Maybe he’d catch out, like in one of those Merle Haggard songs—I’m a thousand miles from home, waiting on a train.
