Published in 1979, James Baldwin's final novel brought me to tears and left me gasping. "Just Above My Head" tells a story of family, solidarity, love, and art through the story of a gospel singer (Arthur Montana) in the '40s through '60s. The narrator, Arthur's older brother and manager Hall, is part of an omniscient first-person storytelling frame as he recalls his beloved brother's life, loves, and rise to stardom.

Why did this book bring me to tears? The language. The passion. The genius writing. The incredible, abstract lessons and reflections that step out and above the timeline and narrative to shout from the rooftops "this is love!", "this is injustice!", "this is healing!". I had never read a book from a Black perspective in the Post-War/Civil Rights era; one that makes the debased threat of the Jim Crow South feel so present, so oppressive, and so real.

This is a challenging book. It has hard, difficult, painful, and triggering story elements (see content warnings elsewhere). And at every turn there is such deeply expressed joy, hope, wonder, and uplift. There are so many passages that could be lifted from the broader work and put on a pedestal of meaning, as they have such power and resonance.