I have a deep, deep love for books in which the plot is slow but the writing is stunning. James Baldwin is a gift to the literary world, and his discussions of race, class, sexuality permeate everything he writes with a resonance that spans decades. The back and forth timeline of Leo Proudhammer's personal history is ripe with engrossing details, keeping me turning page after page with rapidity. The slow burn and fizzle of Leo's love stories--with Barbara, his white long-time lover, with Caleb, his older brother, with Black Christopher, his Black activist lover, with his friends, with his parents, with Harlem itself--are beautiful and devastating in their own turns. Leo's world is on the brink of something: racial tensions are brewing, sexuality politics are gaining traction, his health is failing. I read this before the eruption of COVID-19, but the parallels to today's world are (disappointingly) undeniable. Baldwin is one for the ages, but here's to hoping that his works become less immediately relatable and more appreciated for their powerful depictions of a time since past.