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4.5

Near the start of this book, I was reminded of Baldwin’s previous novel, Giovanni's Room. But it quickly becomes Giovanni’s Room-‘exploded�, for this is not just the story of fraught tension between a homosexual man and a possibly bisexual man; but also the story of other couples, and coupling: a white woman who has escaped the South and a black man; a white man and a black woman; and, the one that seemed the most forced to me, an ‘older� married woman and a homosexual (bisexual?) man, another escaped Southerner. Ultimately, Baldwin seems to be commenting on the uselessness of such sexual labels, that these relationships are all due to love, or at least something approximating it—and any hate arising between the couple is due to cultural discrimination and pasts that may be impossible to overcome.

Through the characters� thoughts and words, rendered in beautiful prose, the intricacies of the various relationships are empathetically delineated, in both their joy and their violence. “Violence� is a word Baldwin uses in interesting, and unexpected, ways throughout the work, such as using it as a collective noun.

“Towers� (skyscrapers) loom over the inhabitants of New York City, seeming to doom them. That image is carried over to France, with the towers of Chartres Cathedral serving the same function for a visiting couple consummating their relationship. Despite the plot’s brief sojourn to France, I am left with the feeling that the city of New York, more so than any of the characters, is the primary, motivating force of the work; even more so than the character from the first section who links the others.

With its frank depictions of sexuality (never seeming gratuitous), the casual use of marijuana and themes that have remained relevant, I had to keep reminding myself this was published in the very early 60s.