Anthony’s story is a slice-of-life blending nostalgia—dance competitions, Soul Train, the Holy Ghost dance at church, couples-only songs, the thrill of hearing Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick at the club—with unflinching accounts of “living in a world full of hatred and racism.” Though mostly narrated in the third person, the narrative often slips into the first person, presumably from Marvel’s perspective. The author succeeds in capturing a vivid milieu and portraying the bonhomie and camaraderie of a large family and club scene, though many individual characters aren’t developed much, with some coming or going from the story with little introduction. The introduction of Lee David and Victor, Cebo’s brothers, seems contrived to demonstrate the importance of family. Their back stories are strikingly similar and they do not move the story forward.
The dialogue, frank and earthy, captures the nuances of the spoken word of the era, while bursts of sex and violence live up to the band’s name: raw. At times over-the-top and discursive, with storytelling that lacks narrative momentum, Club Bamboo nevertheless captures a time, place, and culture.
Takeaway: Vividly evoked story of a late 1970s R&B band, bursting with music.
Comparable Titles: Jacqueline Crooks’s Fire Rush, Rashod Ollison’s Soul Serenade.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: C
Marketing copy: A-
