My Soul Looks Back

by Jessica B. Harris

In this captivating new memoir, award-winning writer Jessica B. Harris recalls a lost era—the vibrant New York City of her youth, where her social circle included Maya Angelou, James Baldwin, and other members of the Black intelligentsia.

In the Technicolor glow of the early seventies, Jessica B. Harris debated, celebrated, and danced her way from the jazz clubs of the Manhattan's West Side to the restaurants of the Village, living out her buoyant youth alongside the great minds of the day—luminaries like Maya Angelou, James Baldwin, and Toni Morrison. My Soul Looks Back is her paean to that fascinating social circle and the depth of their shared commitment to activism, intellectual engagement, and each other.

Harris paints evocative portraits of her illustrious Baldwin as he read aloud an early draft of If Beale Street Could Talk , Angelou cooking in her California kitchen, and Morrison relaxing at Baldwin’s house in Provence. Harris describes her role as theater critic for the New York Amsterdam News and editor at then burgeoning Essence magazine ; star-studded parties in the South of France; drinks at Mikell’s, a hip West Side club; and the simple joy these extraordinary people took in each other’s company. The book is framed by Harris’s relationship with Sam Floyd, a fellow professor at Queens College, who introduced her to Baldwin.

More than a memoir of friendship and first love My Soul Looks Back is a carefully crafted, intimately understood homage to a bygone era and the people that made it so remarkable.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Audiobook, Biography, Food, African American, History

272 pages, Hardcover

First published May 9, 2017

About the author

According to Heritage Radio Network, there's perhaps no greater expert on the food and foodways of the African Diaspora than Doctor Jessica B. Harris. She is the author of twelve critically acclaimed cookbooks documenting the foods and foodways of the African Diaspora including Iron Pots and Wooden Spoons: Africa's Gifts to New World Cooking, Sky Juice and Flying Fish Traditional Caribbean Cooking, The Welcome Table: African American Heritage Cooking, The Africa Cookook: Tastes of a Continent, Beyond Gumbo: Creole Fusion Food from the Atlantic Rim. Harris also conceptualized and organized The Black Family Reunion Cook Book.Her most recent book, High on the Hog: A Culinary Journey from Africa to America, was the International Association for Culinary Professionals 2012 prize winner for culinary history.
In her more than three decades as a journalist, Dr. Harris has written book reviews, theater reviews, travel, feature, and beauty articles too numerous to note. She has lectured on African-American food and culture at numerous institutions throughout the United States and Abroad and has written extensively about the culture of Africa in the Americas, particularly the foodways. In the most recent edition of the Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink, author John Mariani cites Harris as the ranking expert on African American Foodways in the country. An award winning journalist, Harris has also written in numerous national and international publications ranging from Essence to German Vogue. She's a contributing editor at Saveur and drinks columnist and contributing editor at Martha's Vineyard magazine. In 2012, she began a monthly radio show on Heritage Radio Network, My Welcome Table, that focuses on Food. Travel, Music, and Memoir.

Dr. Harris has been honored with many awards including a lifetime achievement award from the Southern Foodways Alliance (of which she is a founding member) and the Lafcadio Hearn award as a Louisiana culinary icon from The John Folse Culinary Academy at Louisiana's Nicholls State University. In 2010, she was inducted into the James Beard Who's Who of Food and Beverage in the United States.

Dr. Harris holds degrees from Bryn Mawr College, Queens College, New York, The Université de Nancy, France, and New York University. Dr. Harris was the inaugural scholar in residence in the Ray Charles Chair in African-American Material Culture at Dillard University in New Orleans where she established an Institute for the Study of Culinary Cultures. Dr. Harris has been a professor of English at Queens College/C.U.N.Y. for more than four decades. She is also a regular presenter at the annual Literary Festival in Oxford, England, a Patron of Oxford Gastronomica at Oxford/Brookes University in Oxford, England, and a consultant to the Lowcountry Rice Culture Project in South Carolina. She is currently at work developing a center for connecting culinary cultures in New Orleans.

In 2012, Dr. Harris was asked by the Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History and Culture to conceptualize and curate the cafeteria of the new museum which is being built on the Mall in Washington DC that is scheduled to open in 2015 and is a member of the Kitchen Cabinet at the Smithsonian Museum of American History. The Heritage Radio Network sums her up saying, "Doctor Jessica B. Harris damn near knows it all when it comes to African and Caribbean cuisines and culinary history. She's a living legend". Harris lives in New York, New Orleans and Martha's Vineyard.

Reviews

[Chrystani · Rating 2 out of 5]

I fell for it. I took the black millenial bait. "Oh, check her out in that fashionable still relevant outfit on the cover of this book". A black author talking about the great and sexy setting of New York with some heavy weights? Gotta support black women authors you know? YEA, sign me up. I committed the book sin of, "Judging a book by it's cover". I've worked in libraries for 12 years, I should know better.

This book was bad. It really was. By the 5th page, I could tell this was going to be a name drop fest. For this to be a memoir about Jessica Harris it is weird how much she doesn't center her own experiences and life. She is constantly name dropping Baldwin and referring to him as "Sam's friend Jimmy". If you are going to speak about these people, write about some interactions. No one wants to hear how you sat in a room where he was.

I found myself getting angry and looking at her photo on the jacket every couple pages. She is very bougie, and well to do and she doesn't have anything to talk about. Like your bougie auntie who everyone is uptight around because nothing is good enough for her. The book doesn't even really get into a story until the last 40 pages or so. Like another reviewer said, "this story would have been great as an essay". There was no need to name drop people and places for 272 pages.

It's very hoity-toity. She uses grandiose words for no reason. (See what I did there). SUPER pretentious. Once again, constant name dropping. And that hipster attitude of, "I was there before you were and it was something else"...

The book will have you asking, "Did I pick up the wrong book"? "Is this Sam's memoirs or hers"? What is the point? I think she should have got into some interactions, or meaningful conversations. It was a shallow book. Or a book with just bones and no meat.

2 stars because it will look good on a bookshelf. Also creative idea for a playlist for each chapter at the end.

[Erin · Rating 2 out of 5]

Ms. Harris (who I had never heard of prior to this book) wrote a memoir about having a seat at the cool kids' table. During 1970's New York City where icons-in-the-making like James Baldwin and Maya Angelou were members of an elite group of African American artists during a time when intelligence, creativity and activism were at its peak. While being surrounded by such creativity is worth recalling any chance you get, her story could have been better told as an essay in the New Yorker. After about 35 pages of "I knew James Baldwin" I couldn't finish.

If this kind of book is of interest to you, keep an eye out for my debut novel, "I Once Saw LeBron James At Chipotle".

[Shirleen R · Rating 3 out of 5]

(Review revised, final: 12/4/2017)
Frankly, the ethics of My Soul Looks Back preocuppy me, even more than its content. Jessica Harris's way of storytelling pushed my "Hmm, something's hinky" button. I asked myself many times: am I reading A Memoir of Jessica B. Harris , or The Unauthorized Biography of Ex-Boyfriend Samuel Clemons Floyd, Jr. with the appendix: The Final Performance Days of Maya Angleou ?

Had Ms. Harris divulged as many intimate, revealing details about her adult post-20s life, as she does of her famous Black friends --- James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou, Nina Simone, to name a few - I would not raise an eyebrow at her selectively forthright manner. Sexuality is not the only subject where Harris was circumspect. She taught at Queens College in the 1980s, 1990s, 2000s. She earned a PhD at NYU. She published 8 books. All remarkable feats. I wanted to read more about THOSE experiences. I wanted to know about her professional journey -- the struggle ( Capital "S" struggle and "struggle"). Were her amazing resume of accomplishments a struggle to achieve? The degree of detail she invests in early UNIS, Performing Arts HS, and Bryn Mawr life are absent from later professional years. How does her journey fit within racial climate of last twenty years until the present.

In other words, rarely does Jessica Harris pause to reflect on 'How she got over' in her professional life after Sam Floyd's death? Her lack of transparency may frustrate some readers.

In this memoir, Harris writes how she did one major feat after another -- earn an advanced degree, publish a book, met famous Black legends, received a reward, and rises to incredible assortment of career opportunities fall ---- theater critic, book reviewer, culinary historian, restaurant critic. How I WISH the 21st century workplace were as open and receptive to career shifts an re-inventions, etc. Too bad Harris doesn't pause to talk about generational changes in her critical and academic fields. I want to hear her perpective.

Here's the irony I can't abide: Jessica Harris said about Sam Floyd, Jr. "So much was left unsaid". Her silence extends to examples of Sam's volatile nature, as well as his sexuality or other lovers. I contend that Jessica Harris leaves "So much is left unsaid" about Jessica Harris. Seriously, does she mention one relationship that she's had in the 30 years, since her lover Sam died? No relationships is as worthy a topic as many after Floyd's death. Demure is a kind word for how Harris regards talking about her current . Her tight-lipped nature bespeaks the era in which she came of age. However, I don't buy it! Harris can enthuse for paragraphs or pages about foods she loves. She gushes at length about ingredients, flavors, food prep and process in meticulous detail. Under her effusive storytelling style, I believe she hides her truth, her vulnerability, and risk of any expose of her love or professional life.

Because Harris is guarded about her own sex life years past her 20s and first love Sam, I was wary about her project to share the sex lives and loves of the famous dead. To make matters worse, whenever Harris spoke about gay nightclub life, I detect hints of her discomfort. Consider her awkward tone and language, when Harris says she's won't open a "Pandora's Box" about a man's past lovers). Do others detect hints of cynicism, intolerance, or fear there? For all these reasons, I wonder: is Jessica Harris' the person to tell Sam Floyd's personal story outside the Queens College classroom and artist salons he hosted on Horatio Street and in France ? When I consider this memoir's structure and that her biggest reveal is a secret about SAM'S life, doesn't that rankle a "Not Fair!" bell on the ethics meter?

I value aspects of this memoir, no lie. You bet that I jotted down street names and addresses when she reminisced about NYC hotspots, salons, and night clubs of Black poets, jazz artists, writers in the 1970s. Thank you for the retro Greenwich Village, Chelsea, West Village, Columbus Avenue descriptions. Paule Marshall (Browngirl, Brownstones used to live on Central Park West! Maya Angelou owned an apartment on 120th Street in Harlem! For certain, Harris's memoir will guide my future walking tours of artistic Black life in Manhattan. The tour in lives of her famous friend's lives is where I hesitate to tread.

[Cheryl]

Nostalgia. This is the word I think of when I think of this memoir. Remembrance of a time, place and space forgotten; the feeling that someone must take notes, this responsibility to remember the timeframe, remember the great things that happened. This is elegiac, about loss and love, a memorial to a lost lover, a forgotten literary figure.

Samuel Clemens Floyd was a professor and a charismatic member of the literary circle when he dated Harris and introduced her to friends like James Baldwin, Maya Angelou, Nina Simone, Paule Marshall, Rosa Guy and Louise Meriwether. While this may feel like a memoir about these large personalities, the memoir is really about the relationship between Harris and Floyd. Their story circles dinner tables, bourbon-filled conversations, travels to Africa and Europe. There are intimate moments with friends, like Baldwin's reading of If Beale Street Could Talk where he gets real-time feedback from Toni Morrison. In fact, I always wondered about the main character in Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone, wondered if she (or the idea of her) was based loosely on a real person. I think I found my answer in Mary Painter, the woman Baldwin dedicated Another Country to, the woman he truly loved, according to Harris.

Harris feels like an intruder around these big personalities and it comes across in the book. Her lover had been a lover to spirited women like Angelou and Simone. Next to them, she feels small. This, itself, is yet another story within the story. However, anecdotes aside, one senses this memoir is really about a woman misled, a woman who feels betrayed because she shared her life and love of literature with a man she never truly knew. When Sam (her Ex at the time) dies of AIDS, she learns, for the first time, that he was bisexual. Yet, there is some hesitancy to explore this feeling of betrayal, to explore her understanding of how sexuality shaped their relationship and their friendships. Sadly, for someone who often entertained, he dies destitute, alone, and sick. And this also posed more questions that went unanswered in the memoir. At his memorial at Queens College, Harris reads a poem Maya Angelou wrote to him:

"To A Man"
My man is
Black Golden Amber

[Leslie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hmmmmm.....how to rate this one? 3.5 stars?
I mostly liked it as an historical document that captures a particular group and generation of people - many of whom were en route to becoming literary, artistic, and cultural luminaries - during a particular moment in time. If you are looking for an intimate, straightforward juicy tell-all, this isn't it! I was often frustrated with Jessica B. Harris's roundabout restraint in this sometimes linear, often time-jumping visit down memory lane ---largely to New York City and Europe in the 1970s.

Because I think of Harris as a distinguished expert documentarian of the culinary history and culture of the African diaspora (-and loved her book, High on the Hog: A Culinary Journey from Africa to America-), I was uncomfortable when she positioned herself as a timid, self-deprecating fringe-lingerer.

Throughout her narrative, Harris often laments that much "was left unsaid"....and then she prolongs the silence! And what is "hair-trigger volatility" code for?-Harris uses this phrase often to describe certain people....

One bonus, however, is the inclusion of recipes!

[Jai · Rating 3 out of 5]

"It was a time of life lived fully, deeply. Random encounters would smoothly morph into dinners or gatherings that would then be transformed into events that could go well into the wee hours of the morning, but always underneath it all, there was the heartbeat of work and writing and speaking and teaching and all the daily madness of life." — My Soul Looks Back, Jessica B. Harris


"My Soul Looks Back" by culinary historian Jessica B. Harris didn't quite feel like a memoir; as one reviewer noted, rarely did Harris center her own life and experiences. Instead, the book felt to me like a collection of (mostly) humdrum encounters with revered Black figures (James Baldwin, Maya Angelou, Nina Simone, Toni Morrison, etc.) dating back to the 70s.

While there are some interesting anecdotes (Simone referring to Harris as the "bitch in the red dress" during their first encounter, or Baldwin reading "If Beale Street Could Talk" to Harris and others at his home prior to its publication in 1974), the book mostly drags. Harris has a tenacious memory when it comes to remembering meals, but manages to skimp on the details readers really care about. I gave it a reluctant three stars for the anecdotes I did enjoy and for the bad and boujee cover.

[Gabrielle · Rating 3 out of 5]

This will probably be my last memoir for a while (well, until Michelle Obama's!) because I struggle with being critical of someone's lived experiences. This book truly made me sad - how does one be on the margin of her own memoir? I truly adore James Baldwin and Maya Angelou, but I was so exhausted with reading about them in a memoir that was supposed to center Jessica. She began her narrative by even claiming herself to be a sideline character and marking herself as being adjacent to these huge figures. I wanted to know so much about her work for Essence Magazine and her relationship with other Black women writers that did not orbit around a man. The saving grace of this book is that it is well-written even if the narrative was crushed under the weight of Jimmy, Sam, and Maya. I wanted so much more from this, but maybe it will be just right for another reader.

[Lauren · Rating 4 out of 5]

Entertaining dish about life in the 1970s Black intellectual circles in New York City and Paris. Interesting editorial to call this a memoir, as Harris is rarely centered in her own story (with the exception of a quick rundown of early childhood and school age performance work), instead focusing on many other luminaries of the time, most notably James Baldwin, Nina Simone, Toni Morrison, and Maya Angelou. Perhaps it should have been called a retrospective? Still, I liked the small intimate moments she shares about hearing Baldwin read aloud from early drafts of If Beale Street Could Talk by the fireside in the south of France, the rivalries between her and Nina Simone, and the challenging friendship over the decades between her and Angelou.

Naturally, the book is at its best when Harris focuses on food and travel writing - her "wheelhouse" so to say - as a prominent cookbook author and culinary historian.

Perhaps there's another memoir in her that gives more insight into her own work, travel, and scholarship leading up to High on the Hog and other books that cemented her name.

[Nascha · Rating 5 out of 5]

My Soul Looks Back, a memoir by Jessica B. Harris, appeared on my news feed on Good Reads several times before I finally clicked on its link to read its description and decide if I was interested or not. After reading its brief general description, I was mesmerized. I quickly requested the book and waited anxiously for its arrival. When it came, it did not disappoint. Ms. Harris sounds exactly like someone I would love to read about, a cosmopolitan, well-traveled, intellectual, culinary expert with a love of good food and a circle of friends that I have only read about. Well, with the exception of one---Dr. Maya Angelou was a good friend of my uncle and when he passed, I met her at his funeral. She was so kind, generous and embracing to my mother and I, so I can only imagine how she was with her own close friends and family members.

Ms. Harris writes about the old New York City, in particular her youth in Queens and her young adult womanhood living in the West Village and hanging out Uptown in Harlem and on the Upper West Side. She has a romance with a debonair older, educated professor whom she works with and who introduces her to his circle of friends---and his circle of friends include the celebrities such as Dr. Angelou (before she became Dr. Angelou), James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, Louise Merriweather and Rosa Guy among so many others.

To say that I have read books from all of these authors is just the tip of the iceberg. Toni Morrison is my absolute favorite and Rosa Guy is author of one of my favorite books ever, Ruby, and I loved, loved reading about old, old Harlem in Louise Merriweather's book, Daddy Was a Number Runner. And of course, James Baldwin, is one of the greats in African American literature, and American literature. His work still influences writers of the day.

She also mentions her experiences with other artists in the music and theatre world including the late, great, Nina Simone, who was famous for her temperament as much for her music.

Reading about all of them and Ms. Harris' interactions with them in casual and informal settings was just brilliant and awe-inspiring.

Further, I enjoyed reading about Ms. Harris' travels around the world. She's now added a list of places for me to visit and explore for my own travel bucket list. I will also be trying out some of the recipes that she included and looking for others that she mentioned in mouth-watering detail.

My only complaint about this book is that Ms. Harris neglected the very necessary inclusion of photographs. I would have loved to see glimpses of some of these parties or casual settings. I would also have loved to see a photograph of her great love, Sam. I make no judgments about her naivete regarding his sexual orientation as she comes from an era which was not as sexually free and openly honest as the one we live in now. It seems almost like a foreign era and another existence entirely before the world was introduced to AIDS.

Another small complaint is that I wish Ms. Harris had written out actual scenes of dialogue and the conflict that she experienced with some of the people mentioned, including her beloved Sam. One of the major tips in writing is to "show and not tell" and I feel that there were some poignant moments where Ms. Harris could have shown us so much more but instead told us how she felt or what the experience was like without allowing us to "feel" it for her.

[Michelle · Rating 2 out of 5]

Edit: In the intervening time since reviewing this book I've become even more disappointed with it -- having heard interviews with Jessica Harris, clearly a remarkable person in her own right and not just some hanger-on of Harlem greats, it seems that a memoir of hers should have had more -- well, of her. I suppose it makes sense that as Baldwin's renown has spiked in recent years that she would take time to reflect on the parts of her life that intersected with him, and perhaps if that reflection had been more thoughtful from the perspective of her growth since, it would have been a more worthwhile read.
----
If you're expecting something other than a literary rendition of "Entourage: The James Baldwin Edition," look elsewhere. It's at turns disappointing and baffling that Harris, who spent so much time with people famous for their ideas, was much more interested in their fame than their ideas.

I picked up this book expecting some level of insight on the intellectual world of Baldwin, Angelou, and the others name-dropped continuously throughout, but beyond the occasionally illuminating descriptions of daily life, food, scenes of gatherings, and spaces themselves, there was little insight to be found about anyone (including Harris herself) in the pages. Instead, she focuses on the perks of notoriety, petty snipes at the people who wronged her (Nina Simone), and her ongoing quest to be important to important people.

About halfway through I had already started checking repeatedly to see how much of this book was left. Even the central relationship of the book is more about name-dropping vanity than anything -- we hear over and over again how desperate Harris was to have her relationship with Sam acknowledged, to be recognized as a "couple" by their group of friends, and how her relationships with other women in their circle was pitched on their competitiveness around Sam. Many of us can recognize these kinds of dynamics from young and immature relationships, but hindsight affords Harris and her readers little in this regard. The most telling (and awful) moment is when Harris recounts that it was only after her lover's death from AIDS that she realized he was bisexual. Her insecurity and phobia around his queerness, which seemed to be the only thing keeping her (and only her) in the dark about this fact of him, seems to persist even in her retelling, which painted it as a shock and a betrayal. It was at this point that my tolerance for her as the narrator finally wore so thin that I may not be able to finish.

The language of the book, as others have mentioned, is about as vapidly pretentious as its content. Harris prefers wordiness, 10-dollar vocabulary, and as many French idioms peppered throughout as she can possibly cram in, without any particular interest in rhythm or tone. There are times when the self-consciousness of the text drops away in favor of her observations, such as when describing Sam's apartment after his death, but unfortunately this is not a virtue the book maintains on any consistent basis.

The best thing I got from this book was the ability to throw shade at it. It's very good for reading aloud loftily, to afford it a sense of humor and self-awareness the author clearly lacks.

[Kyra Leseberg (Roots & Reads) · Rating 2 out of 5]

Harris was part of the 70s NYC circle that included Maya Angelou and James Baldwin. The author debated with the crowd, danced in the jazz clubs, engaged in activism - and also managed to earn a PhD from NYU, publish several books, travel the world, earn awards...

As many have said, this book really could've been an essay to capture the era rather than namedropping (while remaining mum on her true observations of those name dropped) and glossing over her personal achievements for almost 300 pages. This felt droll and the parts that would've fascinated me (more personal, since it's a memoir) were frustratingly missing.

For more reviews, visit www.rootsandreads.wordpress.com

[J Beckett · Rating 4 out of 5]

Like several books previously reviewed, My Soul Looks Back, was an accidental find. I hadn't read any prior reviews, knew little of the author (except she did something in the culinary world), and, based on the cover of the book, couldn't begin to imagine what I was embarking upon. But, as the book began, I was both awestruck and inspired, instantly.

Harris is a writer (and chef, thespian, critic, academic, etc...) who, aiming for this outcome or not, struck my core with vivid memories of European travel, the exciting journey into the tastes of the unfamiliar, and the beautiful faces and physiques of an alien world seemingly etched by the gentle touch of Bernini or Rodin. It was her meeting and admiration for James Baldwin, Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, and a dozen other writers that solidified my desire to read further, to delve into the deepest parts of the book, not realizing that there no shallow areas.

Harris, who is an academic and writes, speaks and lives academia, elaborates respectfully about the people, places, and objects with the tongue of privilege. But she admits, directly and indirectly, that she was fortunate in meeting the people who knew THE people, places, and things and that without them she wouldn't have had a story, of this sort, to tell.

My Soul Looks Back is not a conventional autobiography, it explores friendships and acquaintances and time in extraordinary spaces. It is a diary of events throughout history (without being historic), of life, love, passion, peril, birth, and death. Through Harris, the reader is offered the highly revered Greenwich Village and the mystical magnificence across the Atlantic (including Africa), enhancing, almost subliminally, our desires-- with broad and absolute longing-- to taste, hear, and smell an emotional core that we would never be able to adequately or accurately describe.

My Soul Looks Back, as wonderful and billowy as it often is, can sometimes feel heavy. Harris' experiences are not everyone's experience (which is okay), but her approach and consistent infusion of French phrasing, name-dropping, and self-inflation, can and occasionally does feel a bit... well... heavy, especially if you do not speak/read French or have not had the opportunity to travel extensively or eat Choucroute Garni. This does not take away from the overall beauty of the book's language, nor does it lessen the sincerity that Harris effectively projects, but it can potentially be problematic to those who are not versed in the art of braggadocio.

My Soul Looks Back is a breezy walk through artistry and aesthetics, friendships and heartbreak (she writes about the start of the AIDS epidemic and its direct effect on her circle of friends). It will inspire some to throw caution to the wind and others to wonder if they had spent too much time wasting time. Regardless, you will not be able to deny being moved, or at least a little stirred. Wonderful narrative, beautiful prose, magical history.

I may be wrong, but I am certain that you will enjoy the journey.

[Never Without a Book · Rating 4 out of 5]

My Soul Looks Back is an extremely sensitive and compelling story of NY in the 60s and the life and times of some of Americas greatest literary figures. This memoir had deeply emotional and touching insight into the plaque that swept America in the 70 and 80. I was excited to hear about Jessica's trips to Haiti and how much she loved it there and the mention of James Baldwin, Samuel Clemons Floyd, Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou & Nina Simone being part of the author's circle of creative, sage, intellectual friends was amazing.

[Raquel · Rating 2 out of 5]

Jessica B. Harris has had a fascinating life --- and I love her descriptions of food, particularly the meals she would have at West Village Spanish restaurant El Faro (RIP). But, it felt a little surface-y to me. She writes that she had deep conversations with luminaries like Maya Angelou, but never reveals what exactly they said. Things like that.

[Lisa Lieberman · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a life Jessica Harris has led! And what a lovely person she is: intelligent, honest, a loyal friend, an adventuresome traveler, a talented chef and writer of eclectic cookbooks. She knew and admired people like Maya Angelou, James Baldwin, and Nina Simone and gives us fair, well-balanced portraits of them and their milieu, the world of Black artists and intellectuals that emerged after the civil rights movement.

She interviewed Toni Morrison for Essence magazine in 1976, before the world took note of her, and was bemused that Morrison, "one of the most respected black women writers in the literary world," worked as an editor at Random House, nurturing authors such as Angela Davis and Muhammad Ali, and then went upstairs to Alfred Knopf to have her own work edited -- all while keeping a very low public profile.

Harris herself seems to have been content to remain in the background, watching and listening. Remaining true to herself, her values. Always seeking the best in people. Usually finding it. Perhaps, being guileless, she brought it out.

Toward the end of Morrison's life, at a dinner following the memorial service for Angelou, Harris went up to the famous writer and introduced herself.

I made myself known to Toni, who had no recollection of me. . . She was gracious and slightly apologetic at not remembering me, and asked one question: "Was I kind?" There were no words with which to describe just how kine she'd been. And how much the brief time that I did spend with her had meant and how it had formed me. The fact that that was her one question contains in itself a universe of information about the time and place that had been. Clearly I'd been a minute footnote in her very busy life, a tiny point that would take more digging than needed to be done, but the recognition of the possibility and the desire to have done no harm were telling of the kindnesses that she had indeed evidenced.

The anecdote encapsulates, for me, Harris's remarkable character.

[Tippy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved this read. Literature, travel, and food, hells yes. I wish more of the author’s professional experiences were included, she’s incredibly humble about her expertise. The stories of spending time and intimately so with James Baldwin, Maya Angelou, Nina Simone, and more are fascinating. I love when my vocabulary is challenged and I learned a lot of great words as well as various French, African dishes that i looked up as i read. I also love the recipes included along the way and adore the playlist for each chapter at the end.

[Robin · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was an amazing memoir of the life and times of black luminaries in the 60s-70s and beyond. It travels from New York, to Europe, to Africa, to North Carolina. You may not recognize the author (I didn't!) but you'll definitely recognize the people in her circle. And, by the time you're finished, you'll have an appreciation for the author that you probably should have had before you started. :) Fantastic book. I recommend it for everyone who wants to discover life outside of their own experiences.

[Sara · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read for work. I had never heard of her before, and now I'm on a Jessica B. Harris binge. James Baldwin and the entire black literary/cultural scene of Manhattan in the 70s (with visits to Hait, West Africa and the South of France), food, Greenwich Village when a beginner journalist could afford to live there... this is one of those memoirs that I imagine the author's friends have been telling her to write for years.

[Evette · Rating 3 out of 5]

"My Soul Looks Back" chronicles Jessica B. Harris' tangential relationships to James Baldwin, Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, Nina Simone, and other Black luminaries through her relationship with Samuel Floyd. It's beautifully written, and really captures a time when Black intellectuals loomed larger than life. However, "My Soul Looks Back" seems to drag a bit, especially near the beginning. It's only in later chapters that the story really pulls together.

[Read In Colour · Rating 4 out of 5]

An amazing memoir of the author's time in James Baldwin's inner circle of friends that included Maya Angelou, Rosa Guy, Paule Marshall, Toni Morrison and other literary wonders.

[Erik · Rating 1 out of 5]

“It began as a time of famous clubs like Studio 54 and other venues less savory like the Continental Baths...I never made it to either of them, but I knew many folks who were regulars at each.” This sentence, closing out one of the opening salvos of Jessica Harris’ “memoir” neatly sums up the deep-rooted problems of this book. What i assume is meant to be a memoir, instead acts as a laundry list of names célèbre - some full paragraphs can actually, i believe, be skipped as they act as nothing other than listings of proper nouns.

If you can drag yourself beyond the Old Testament-esque listing of names, the content of the book itself is a problem itself. Telling stories of her summer home in Martha’s Vineyard and constant vacations across Europe, Harris pauses to recount how she feels alienated for her perceived “bougie”ness. Apparently unaware of even how bougie she comes across in her own retelling of her own life, Harris lacks any critique of the social structures that seemingly continue to replicate themselves in her bougie lifestyle.

And let us not forget her recounting of her life during the AIDS crisis. Admittedly, it must be shocking to discover that ones lover has died of AIDS when you always perceived him to be hetero, but the ways in which Harris discusses her gay friends - and the gay clubs of her day - is blatantly prudish and is absolutely borderline homophobic. The entire chapter on AIDS will leave anyone with a baseline knowledge of the history of the topic scratching their heads and wondering how she was allowed to publish such a chapter.

Don’t be deceived by the radical looking cover on this book. I, regrettably, was and wasted my time and my money reading a laundry list of bougie recountings of famous people i could have learned more about from Wikipedia.

[freckledbibliophile · Rating 5 out of 5]

The sheer immensity of the view into the spirits of some of the most influential black intelligentsias that Dr. Jessica Harris wrote about was marvelous to behold.

My Soul Looks Back, evoked all kinds of emotions from me.

There were many pieces of this book I could revel in; however, her relationship with Sammy was the one that I found most intriguing. The fact that some of his close friends became hers as well, and that one piece of classified information that would become so significant to their relationship was kept from her, somewhat infuriated me. James Baldwin tried to throw a tip at her mother, but I think he failed to realize we all perceive things differently. I, too, believe that Mya Angelou felt terrible about not being woman enough to tell Jessica that Sammy had hidden secrets. Then again, some people think it’s not their place to get involved with other relationships. So who am I to pass judgment?

Her vivid descriptions of the sumptuously rich food they delighted in made my corner of cheese pizza taste like un carré d'agneau juteux.

Nina. Oh, Nina! She was something else for lack of more honest words. I sniggered so loudly at her pettiness.

“I’m older than you, and my body’s better than yours!” That’s merely one of the diva-like comments that spewed out of her mouth at Jessica.

This book is one of the best memoirs I’ve read, and I highly recommend It. I could babble about this book for hours.

[Erika · Rating 2 out of 5]

I expected a soul-searching memoir, but the book seemed more like a description of the famous people Harris knew and their activities. You can tell Harris has a deep interest in cuisine, and I was amazed that she could remember so many of her meals in detail. She described herself as on the periphery of Maya Angelou's and James Baldwin's circles of friends, and I could never tell if she wanted to be more included or not. The author was very reserved in relating her own feelings, and I would have liked much more of that.

[Sian Lile-Pastore · Rating 4 out of 5]

I liked this a lot - it's a lovely little snapshot of 1970s New York amongst the black stars and intellectuals - James Baldwin , Maya Angelou, Nina Simone (who said about The author - 'who's that bitch in the red dress?') Toni Morrison and more.

It is the memoir of someone slightly on the periphery (she was a lot younger than the others) who maybe didn't realise how much she did actually fit in until later. It lovingly describes food, restaurants, and long boozy evenings and includes recipes! I thought it was charming.

[Erin Ashley · Rating 2 out of 5]

Didn't really like this book. I tried to ignore the reviews on here to let myself be free to inform my own opinion but I found this book to be pretty boring and seemed almost as if these were memories solely for her journal to keep and cherish. The interesting parts of these book however did increase my rating. I enjoyed the playlist function at the end and will create a playlist with these songs, I also enjoyed the recipes that went along with the chapters - a very unique touch.

[Cynthia · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this in awe of Dr. Harris and the access she had to some of the greatest contributors to the arts of our time. Her raw and uncensored descriptions of people we had only heard snippets about added depth not only to the novel, but to those individuals as well. It was a beautiful testament to how artist collectives are not just advantageous, but necessary.

[Lauryn Honore · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am Jessica B. Harris. Jessica B. Harris is me.

This book…gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Her style of writing is phenomenal. Casual enough to easily read but sophisticated enough to know you’re reading from an esteemed author. Her recollections of James Baldwin, Nina Simone, Toni Morrison, and Maya Angelou truly and utterly made me feel as if I knew them. Absolutely incredible work.

Her life as a twenty year old > who all can say they’ve infiltrated this elite circle of friends consisting of legendary authors, artists, and singers? I want that. Jessica is an icon in that regard, personally. Obviously her love for jazz, food, and French culture struck a nerve and made me question my uniqueness but it’s ok, I still adore her. I cannot wait to read more of her work.



“I learned like a wise moth not to fly too close to the flames, but to hover in the middle distance, close enough to be a part of the circle and yet not so close that I was likely to get burned when the intensity of conversations or the depth of the emotion turned caustic and corrosive.”

[Ladybugcain · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved this.... To have friends like Baldwin, Maya, Nina, and Toni... I would have loved to experience the jazz and vibe of the 70's Village scene. This memoir speaks volumes. It showcases the black educated middle-class during a fascinating social time. To experience the things that Harris did could only be categorized as magical. This is the stuff of fantasy and dreams for most. Lets discuss the food and music... This novel came with recipes and musical playlists that touched my soul. Bob Marley, Al Green, Tupac, NINA... This novel was just full with SOOOOO Much! It will be one that I read again and again. I highly recommend it. Everyone should add this to their shelf.

[Lindsay · Rating 3 out of 5]

3 stars because I'm a sucker for decades-past NYC and France plus food, but otherwise, this was kind of a bummer. Harris has racked up serious career cred--how I would have loved to hear her really dig into her culinary research!--but this memoir focused so little on herself that it barely fits that category. Her brushes with the super-famous seemed rather superficial to warrant so much space, even her relationship with Sam Floyd (which perhaps...). Ah well....

[Dorothy McGinnis · Rating 2 out of 5]

i think a lot of others have said the reasons why this book gets 2 stars better than I could, but truly. When she started in about Maya Angelou’s super bowl party I had to laugh, it was like self parody at that point. I think it really is a shame that Jessica b Harris spends this book recalling mundane details of the lives of her more famous friends when I would really have preferred to hear the details of her life, since it was supposed to be her soul looking back. I am jealous she ate so much good food and enjoyed such good company throughout the years, however if the most interesting aspect of your memoir is outing your deceased ex boyfriend…I don’t know man.