Easy is a World War II vet who just lost his job at a defense plant and has to make some quick money to meet the mortgage. Life was still hard in L.A., and if you worked every day you still found yourself on the bottom.”Įzekiel (Easy) Rawlins goes into John’s speak-easy to find out if anyone has seen Daphne Monet, a white woman who likes to hang out in black jazz clubs. The stories were true for the most part, but the truth wasn’t like the dream. People told stories of how you could eat fruit right off the trees and get enough work to retire one day. California was like heaven for the Southern Negro. All of them and John and half the people in that crowded room had migrated from Houston after the war, and some before that. I had been hearing Lips and Willie and Flattop since I was a boy in Houston. “When I opened the door I was slapped in the face by the force of Lips’ alto horn. Within the first 50 pages, Walter Mosley takes us through the back door of a little market at the corner of Central Avenue and 89th Place in Los Angeles and into an illegal black nightclub: Reflexively you blink from the sting of the dark, smoky surroundings and lick your lips to wipe away the taste of the cheap Scotch, as the sweet sounds of an alto saxophone whine up out of the pages of this richly atmospheric detective novel of the ‘40s.
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