Author Micaiah Johnson grew up “all over the High Desert,” she says, from Lucerne Valley to downtown Victorville. She credits those years with providing her a sense of our planet being as hostile as it is beautiful.
“In the desert, we always knew nature could kill you,” she said. “Water was always an issue. We felt the droughts before other areas did. Living in Barstow during the time we could set our water on fire made us understand how much your environment can turn on you.”
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The desert became Johnson’s source of inspiration for her new book, “Those Beyond the Wall,” out now from Del Rey Books. While the story is set in the same multiverse as her previous book, “The Space Between Worlds,” Johnson zooms into one particular universe for this next chapter.
At the heart of the novel is the conflict between the moneyed, walled-off Wiley City – so rich it has its own atmosphere – and Ashtown, a harsh, sunburned desert slum where an emperor rules with an iron fist. Events are narrated by Scales, a citizen of Ashtown who deeply loves her adopted home despite its hardships. Employed as a “runner,” she does the emperor’s bidding, from keeping the peace to secret missions into Wiley City.
One day, an Ashtown woman suffers a gruesome, inexplicable death in front of Scales; the same fate has befallen a handful of Wiley citizens. Tasked with finding the cause, Scales must wrestle with her own family history and worldview as her hunt unearths a danger that threatens both Wiley City and Ashtown.
In “Those Beyond the Wall,” Johnson examines authority, class and the strength of a community formed by hardship. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Q. ‘Those Beyond the Wall’ continues the story of ‘The Space Between Worlds’ multiverse. How did you decide what to write next?
When I sold the first book, I was asked repeatedly, “Could this be a series?” At first, I was, like, “Absolutely not. This is a standalone.” Immediately after it came out, however, thoughts started creeping in – what about this side character? What about that story?
I have this saying: I write half the book, and readers write the other half with their interpretations. Once “The Space Between Worlds” was in the hands of readers, they began to have questions about these threads that I put in there but couldn’t explore because the book was getting long. So it became this perfect storm of me being curious about my own world again, at the same time an editor was like, ‘Hey, do you like money and food?’ (Laughs) And so writing ‘Those Beyond the Wall’ worked out really well.
Q. You finished ‘The Space Between Worlds’ before the pandemic. How did writing ‘Those Beyond the Wall’ during the pandemic shape the story?
When I conceived of the second book, I was at an anti-racism protest in Nashville. We were outdoors and masked, but we were there. And that really hit home, the importance of community in creating all things that matter. Whether it is a book or changes in the world, it has to be this communal thing. Because if you write or try to make change for your own aggrandizement, it’s kind of a failed premise from the start, right? Everything should be done as a gift, with care.
In writing this book during the pandemic, I was much more aware of the longing to give something back to a community. I was much more aware of wanting care to be the place from which I begin and end. That’s something that I’ve always felt, but the pandemic made it so explicit. I think the pandemic clarified priorities for a lot of us, and for me, that was mine.
Q. What kind of research did you do?
The plot of “The Space Between Worlds” involved a lot of string theory. I read authors like Michio Kaku and Brian Greene, science books that had nothing to do with my degree. Writing “Those Beyond the Wall” felt much more organic, because the well was already there from my academic studies.
My Ph.D. focuses on critical race studies and posthumanism. As a theoretical concept, posthumanism does involve AI and robots, but it also involves global climate studies. So I was doing Anthropocene research. I also did some extra research into revolutions – I’m familiar with the Haitian revolution and the Civil Rights movement from my studies, but I had to go outside of my knowledge base to look at the revolutions that have happened in far east Asia, the Philippines and in Hong Kong.
One of the texts that is important to me is “The Black Jacobins” by C.L.R. James, which is a history of the Haitian Revolution. It was an uprising of slaves evicting France from an island that they never should have been on. But historians never really discussed it along with all of the great revolutions of history before C.L.R. James.
I also think the work of Audre Lord is so important when I talk about coming from a place of care. There’s such a focus on intellect, and educating our way out of poverty and bad systems, but at the same time, there’s a neglect of empathy. Yes, education is important, and can be empowering – but smart people can do very evil things. Empathy is the most important armament that you can have. I think that Audre Lorde talks about that really beautifully.
Q. Scales was a side character in your first book. Why did you decide to make her the narrator for ‘Those Beyond the Wall?’
Readers of the first book correctly equated runners with Southern California gang culture. There’s harshness and violence – and there’s loyalty – but a lot of people flattened them into bad people doing bad things. That view is based on the perspective of Cara, the main character of the first book. It’s a bias that she has to overcome as part of the story.
But seeing some of the reader comments stating that the runners are the villains – it made me want to have a runner tell “Those Beyond the Wall.” Scales doesn’t want to leave the desert for Wiley City. Her sense of security comes from her community and keeping everybody together.
Q. So Scales kind of represents the other view of the desert?
I absolutely have complicated feelings about the High Desert. We all have a little hatred for our hometowns, but when somebody else says something mean about it, you’re just like, “Hey, shut up. We have Joshua trees! You don’t even know.” So this book is truly me defending the desert and all of these things that I took for granted while living there that are actually quite unique and special.
Q. What do you hope new and old readers will take away after reading this?
In my circles, we talk a lot about rage – but I don’t want people to be made angry by the book. I want people to understand that they are not alone in the anger they already have. Between the pandemic and the murder of George Floyd and the fact there’s yet another war – it feels like a very isolating time.
But then you look at all how much our neighborhoods and the people around us hold us up, in ways that might not be very evident – like the server who remembers your order, or the neighbor who jokes with you. I would like people who read my book to feel less alone in the world, and also to recognize the ways in which they already weren’t alone.
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