I read half of Carl van Vechten's "Nigger Heaven". A short book. Quite good and interesting in its exoticism. It has generated a storm of
controversy because of its scandalous title and fed an insatiable hunger
on the part of the reading public for material relating to the black
culture of Harlem's jazz clubs, cabarets, and social events. The book centres on two young people--a quiet, serious librarian and a volatile
aspiring writer--struggling to love each other as their dreams are slowly
suffocated by racism. Its style, language and subject matter are problematic for me if I am honest and I fear that when I finish it I shall say there is nothing in it, really. The fact is that my literary notions are rather fixed. Probably twenty years ago I would have relished it.
We have been away for last weekend to a relation in Hampshire. Quite a sudden cold snap of weather, but glorious blue sky on Saturday and we went down to the sea at Mudeford, near Christchurch. Very pleasant stroll along the promenade. Beach huts. A few children playing on the beach. Plenty of people walking about, enjoying the bracing air. Across the water the Needles at the western end of the Isle of Wight were sharp and clear. A commendably refreshing experience. I wonder sometimes why I don't live by the sea.
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