If I want to be transported to the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s, Walter Dean Myers seems like a good author for the task. Having grown up in Harlem since age three, he knows it well, and his feel for portraying the artistic temperament of a community can be quite good. In the summer of 1925, sixteen-year-old Mark Purvis isn't sure what's ahead for him. He blows saxophone as part of a jazz trio with his buddies Henry Brown (guitar) and Randy Johnson (piano), but most musicians don't get paid much. Mark's parents work diligently in hopes of sending his eighteen-year-old brother Matt to college, but when a financial hardship emerges, Mark applies for an office job at The Crisis, a publisher founded by W. E. B. DuBois, to help make ends meet. The Crisis is a platform for black creative artists and intellectuals to establish themselves in urbane society, but Mark just wants a little pocket money and to improve his family's finances. So he takes a one-time gig on the side, doing a few hours of delivery work for jazz musician Fats Waller, even though Mark is suspicious the job might not be completely legal. He's got to eat, right?
"(W)hen you're playing with fire you've got to deal with the heat...And fire ain't particular about who it burns."
—Ralph, Harlem Summer, P. 142
The way things turn out, Mark wishes he hadn't pulled his friend Henry into the deal. A shifty contact man known as Crab Cakes apparently ran off with the shipment that Mark and Henry moved, and Dutch Schultz, a Harlem crime boss, is out for blood. He'll never believe Mark and Henry didn't cheat him. As summer progresses, Mark forms friendships at The Crisis office with poet Langston Hughes and a few others who treat him well, but editor Jessie Fauset has doubts that Mark is a "New Negro" type, part of the rising generation poised to steer the black community in the right direction. Miss Fauset has her eye on him, so Mark had best not mess up if he wants to continue drawing a paycheck. Dutch Schultz is a mounting threat, ready to make an example of Mark and Henry. Why did they get mixed up with criminals in the first place? Was it worth the stress, danger, and risk of shaming their families if Mark and Henry are jailed or worse? Getting out of this fix will require timely intervention, but Mark has built some useful contacts recently. If he escapes this summer with his body and reputation intact, he might be lined up for a decent future after all.
I think I see the message Harlem Summer intends to convey, but it doesn't come across clearly or with much emotional impact. The writing is listless, failing to evoke the passionate, sensuous landscape of the Harlem Renaissance. Maybe Mark should have assumed the job for Fats Waller wasn't legit—it offered a lot of money for one night's labor—but he wasn't asked to do anything obviously illegal, and he had no way of knowing how Crab Cakes would complicate matters. Harlem Summer is notable mostly for featuring leading players of the Harlem Renaissance: I enjoyed reading a novel with Countee Cullen, Langston Hughes, Stephanie St. Clair, and especially Fats Waller as characters. That Fats had a flair for jazz piano and singing. I'll rate Harlem Summer one and a half stars, and it's almost worth rounding up to two. With a more refined narrative and stronger philosophical foundation, this could be an excellent junior novel, but as is, it still has value.