Mumbo Jumbo

I finished reading what is possibly my favorite book ever: Mumbo Jumbo by Ishmael Reed. It’s weird to read, to say the least, but it’s worth while if you can get through the first few chapters.

Before I put you off to it, I want to say that the book is not hard to read, or particularly hard to follow, it’s just that Mumbo Jumbo is meant to be like a blacksploitation movie in book form. For instance, when you open the book you will notice that there is no title page, copyright page, and etc., and instead the story just begins. That’s because, like a movie’s soft opening, they are a few pages in, after an initial setup. After that, the scenes to change randomly and if you don’t think of it as a movie, you’ll probably get lost.

Honestly, the reason I love it so much is its blacksploitation elements. Mumbo Jumbo takes place some time during the Harlem Renaissance, but the main character, Papa Labas, dresses like a 70’s pimp and some of the characters use 70’s-esque slang. That plot revolves around the Laba’s attempts to save Jes Grew, a disease that causes people to dance and act like black people, from the mysterious Wallflower Society.

This definitely ain’t a book for everybody. Read it a little first, then buy.

Claude McKay

He may not look like much, but Claude McKay was a bad mutha f**ker. While he’s most famous for his poems on lynchings and Black issues in general, he also wrote poems that will make panties drop and legs open. Yes, they are that good. I had a teacher say that girls in his class would start to get pregnant after he taught McKay’s poems. To give you an example, this is one called “Flower of Love”:

The perfume of your body dulls my sense.
I want nor wine nor weed; your breath alone
Suffices. In this moment rare and tense
I worship at your breast. The flower is blown,
The saffron petals tempt my amorous mouth,
The yellow heart is radiant now with dew
Soft-scented, redolent of my loved South;
O flower of love! I give myself to you.
Uncovered on your couch of figured green,
Here let us linger indivisible.
The portals of your sanctuary unseen
Receive my offering, yielding unto me.
Oh, with our love the night is warm and deep!
The air is sweet, my flower, and sweet the flute
Whose music lulls our burning brain to sleep,
While we lie loving, passionate and mute.

If you don’t know what he’s talking about, I’ll give you a hint: he’s talking about oral sex. Guys, if you have a lady who likes poetry, use Claude McKay on her. Hell, even if she’s not, slip it her pocket and she’ll be hot and ready once she reads it. Trust me.