Not only have I never heard of Mumbo Jumbo, but I have no idea who this Ishmael Reed is, either. As an English major, it’s tough admitting that. There’s very little point in being well-read if you’re not going to seem well-read when you’re talking to people on the street or at parties and such, so whereas I might normally just say nothing or perhaps nod my head and knowingly mumble, “Hmm, yes,” when Ishmael Reed is mentioned, I’ve got to admit my ignorance here.

I can guess why I haven’t heard of this author or book. It was published well before my time (1972) and takes place even weller before my time (the 1920s). Besides that, the cover of the edition I have features two bare-breasted flappers (or, more accurately, the same bare-breasted flapper twice), which puts it firmly in the category of Books That I’d Be Unlikely to See on a Shelf at a Bookstore.

Let’s see what James Mustich, who put together this list of 1,000 Books to Read Before You Die (and pictured below combing his moustache with a corn tortilla), has to say about this one.

Mumbo Jumbo may be the most rambunctious novel you’ll ever read, a noir mystery steeped in the lore of African American HooDoo, the social tumult and political corruption of the 1920s, Egyptian mythology, and the deep wells of Ishmael Reed’s idiosyncratic imagination.

“Rambunctious” means uncontrollably exuberant, and it is a heck of a word to use to describe a book. Personally, when I read a book, what I’m looking for is controlled exuberance, but that’s just personal preference. We’ll see how rambunctious Mumbo Jumbo actually is.

Here’s the opening paragraph:

A True Sport, the Mayor of New Orleans, spiffy in his patent-leather brown and white shoes, his plaid suit, the Rudolph Valentino parted-down-the-middle hair style, sits in his office. Sprawled upon his knees is Zuzu, local doo-wack-a-doo and voo-do-dee-odo fizgig. A slatternly floozy, her green, sequined dress quivers.

Well. I don’t know what to make of that, quite literally. What is a fizgig? The internet says it’s a flirtatious woman, but it could also be an Australian police informant.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how uncontrollably exuberant are we getting if the mayor of ‘Nerlins has an Aussie fink on his lap?