“A murder mystery set among the black bourgeoisie, it is also the heady tale of a bygone era … compelling family intrigue and a full, vibrant portrait of that storied era when Harlem’s pulse was the rhythm of black America.”
—The Boston Globe
“As much a story of lies, deceit, and murder as it is a commentary on race and class...”
—Chicago Tribune
Old loves, festering hatreds, and buried family secrets: A man returns from the dead in this sweeping tale of 1920s New York.
David McKay disappeared years ago while investigating a lynching. Now, he's back, very much alive and determined to find the truth behind his sister’s brutal death. His search rips back the curtain on the glittering world of the Harlem Renaissance to reveal a world of lies, hypocrisy, and tragic betrayal. Each day he spends in town brings him closer to the truth—and closer to ruin. How soon before time runs out? How soon before his enemies uncover his own secret shame—the sin that could destroy him?
Lyrics of a Blackbird is an absorbing and powerful standalone in Persia Walker's series of 1920s noir mysteries. A taut tale of unrequited, it evokes the mystique of Harlem’s most fascinating era.
If you want a late-night page-turner full of romantic suspense, then grab Lyrics of a Blackbird.
An icy wind slipped in through the open window and caressed her with chilling fingertips. She came to with a start. The darkness shocked her. The silence told her she was alone. Her hands had been folded across her chest, her wrists slashed. Spurts of warm blood drenched the soft cotton of her gown. She sensed the approach of that final darkness. The urge to close her eyes, to give in, was overwhelming. The room seemed to revolve. An inner voice asked: Are you really going to lie there … and bleed to death? Her eyes snapped open. No.
She rocked back and forth. Her body rolled once, twice, then over the edge. The bed was high; the fall was hard. She landed with a heavy thump. And began to drag herself across the floor. An eternity passed before she reached the base of that window. She rested, panting, and looked up. The window was barely a yard above, but it might as well have been a mile. Then she was up. Fully upright. A blast of frigid air cut to the bone, but it felt good. So very good! To be standing. To still be alive. She flopped down on the sill and looked out. The dark street was empty, but a light shone in a window across the way.
“Help! Help!” she screamed, “Pleeease! Somebody! Anybody] HELP MEEEE!” But the wind swallowed the sounds of her pleading. Her legs gave out. She crumpled to the floor, her outstretched arms smearing trails of blood on the wall. “Oh, God … no. Don’t let this happen. This can’t happen.”
She felt herself floating away, bit by precious bit. She raised her face to bathe it in the moonlight, held it there for several exquisite seconds. Then her last inner light faded and with a moan she slumped down, a bloody but beautiful corpse gazing blindly at the bleak night sky.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Alessandra Gregori
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Author review: Excellent translator. Fast-working professional and wonderful to work with. Would highly recommend. |
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Portuguese
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Erika Ferreira
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Francisco Javier Pintor Maldonado
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