Richard Bruce Nugent’s novel “Gentleman Jigger” is a strange cocktail of glamour and dirt that goes down easy, quickly intoxicates and leaves a pungent taste. It may just give you a hangover. But anyone who has ever lamented that he or she was born too late to spend an evening at Georgia Douglas Johnson’s legendary Washington, D.C., salon frequented by black writers, artists and politicians, or to spend any hour at 267 W. 136th St. “when Harlem was in vogue,” should rush to risk the head pounding.
Read the whole review: Los Angeles Times
Advertisement
Posted on February 25, 2008 by D. Bell