'Joy Goddess, A'Lelia Walker and the Harlem Renaissance' - a review

As described by the publisher, "Joy Goddess: A'Lelia Walker and the Harlem Renaissance" is indeed a very fine book, a "vibrant, deeply researched biography" of the only daughter of Madam C.J. Walker, written by A'Lelia Bundles, her great-granddaughter. A dramatically engrossing tale, Bundles' saga of A'Lelia Walker (née Lelia McWilliams, later, after three marriages, Robinson, Wilson, and Kennedy; later dubbed the "Joy Goddess of Harlem" by Langston Hughes) is related with the assurance of the consummate storyteller.

- By MICHAEL HENRY ADAMS Special to the AmNews

Following a childhood mired in poverty and deprivation, A'Lelia Walker deftly pivoted. As if to the manor born, she assumed the rarefied role of Harlem's leading arts patron, showcasing such promising Black prodigies as concert pianist Justin Sandridge and artist Richmond Barthé. Equally important, Bundles tells how ultimately she transformed her showplace home into public venues, The Dark Tower and The Walker Studios — venues for events that not only promoted Black culture, but were spaces convening Blacks and whites, writers, artists, and patrons together in the common cause of social progress and partying.

(Of note: Their Harlem home was redesigned and renovated by Vertner Woodson Tandy, one of the first Black registered architects in New York State, who successfully adapted two narrow Queen Anne Style brownstone row houses, located at 108 and 110 W 136th Street, into the Walkers' stately Neo-Federal Style Harlem residence. The Walkers' business premises were located on the ground floor.)

Ms. Walker's Black uplift, mother-daughter struggles, and love intrigues, set against the backdrop of a rags-to-riches romp, from hard knocks and dreamland to the real world, are better able to hold one transfixed than any novel ever could. In accessing the story and creating a picture of her larger-than-life relation, Bundles has made a solid start. Hers is not a perfunctory or sensationalized account, as a People magazine essay might have conveyed. But then, neither is it as in-depth or profound a treatment, told over 1,000 pages or in two volumes, as one might expect to read about in the Atlantic, Forbes, or the New York Review of Books. To a few, it might be said to lack the excitement frequently derived from the best features of Vanity Fair. Nonetheless, admirers of The Root, Vogue, or smaller profiles in The New Yorker are certain to find highly admirable its easy accessibility and emphasis upon themes of universal appeal.