Baby Brother's Blues: A Novel (Hardcover)

West End is portrayed here as a safe zone where women and children are protected from the violence that afflicts the rest of the city. It's safe because of the vigilante form of justice practiced by Blue Hamilton, a former R&B singer who is also West End's self-appointed guardian, enforcer and avenger. Oh, and Blue also believes that he was an emperor in one of his many past lives.

Blue's marriage to his beautiful wife, Regina, had been foretold by Regina's aunt Abbie, who has psychic powers. And if this isn't otherworldly enough, "General" Richardson, Blue's right-hand man, is dating a stripper he believes has been sent to him from heaven by his deceased lover -- who also happens to be Blue Hamilton's mother.

The novel's one earthly couple, Aretha and Kwame Hargrove, are not totally free from seeing visions, either. But Kwame's visions are practical and down-to-earth. He dreams of escape from his marriage and the claustrophobic insularity of West End to a life of anonymity where he can freely live as a gay man. The fact that Kwame's mother appears to be a shoo-in to become the next mayor of Atlanta complicates this vision.

Enter Baby Brother, a good-for-nothing drifter and Army deserter, and Lee Kilgore, a corrupt cop. They are selfish, ambitious and self-absorbed, and their polluting presence in the West End will eventually threaten the peace and happiness of almost all the other characters.

It is a testimony to Cleage's tight, controlled writing style that Baby Brother's Blues never descends into soap-opera terrain, despite the audacity of its plot. After all, the reader has to make one mighty leap of faith to accept the unlikely character of Blue Hamilton as the Don of the West End, whose kingdom of protection extends to any black female who asks for his help. We never learn how or why Blue has made the jump from singer to slayer (except for his belief that he failed to protect his subjects during his past life as emperor).

But seldom has suspension of disbelief been so handsomely rewarded. Cleage's novel is an exciting, fast-moving thriller where events happen at such breathtaking speed that it's easy to pull a muscle in your eagerness to turn the pages. The stories intersect, spawning misunderstandings, deceptions, betrayals, broken promises and double crosses. It's all great fun, like riding a runaway train and not knowing where you're going to end up.

The book is also an engrossing look at Atlanta's movers and shakers -- the deals brokered in private clubs, the cozy alliances between politicians and law enforcement officials. Cleage casts her eye on the city's less savory aspects -- the strip clubs with their lap dancers, the straight bars that once a week host "DL night" when nominally straight men go "down-low" and seek the company of other men. And Cleage's outrage is at its sharpest when she describes the violence visited upon women.

But throughout the book, Cleage takes an impartial, nonjudgmental stance toward her characters, even blurring the lines between right and wrong. Does Blue Hamilton's self-righteousness make him a good man, for instance? Can protecting his subjects justify murder? Cleage doesn't tell us what she thinks. Just as we're getting ready to settle into reading the book as a simple morality tale, she pulls out something complex by having one of her most poignant characters meet with a horrifying end. It is the sign of a writer's belief in her material, her authority over her characters and her confidence in her readers.

Reviewed By Thrity Umrigar
Copyright 2006, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

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