Nathaniel Mackey's Late Arcade opens in Los Angeles. A musician known
only as N. writes the first of a series of letters to the enigmatic
Angel of Dust. N.'s jazz sextet, Molimo m'Atet, has just rehearsed a new
tune: the horn players read from The Egyptian Book of the Dead with
lips clothespinned shut, while the rest of the band struts and saunters
in a cosmic hymn to the sun god Ra. N. ends this breathless session by
sending the Angel of Dust a cassette tape of their rehearsal.
Over the next nine months, N.'s epistolary narration follows the musical
goings-on of the ensemble. N. suffers from what he calls "cowrie shell
at- tacks"--oil spills, N.'s memory of his mother's melancholy musical
Sundays-- which all becomes the source of fresh artistic invention.
Here is the newest installment of the National Book Award-winner
Nathaniel Mackey's From a Broken Bottle Traces of Perfume Still
Emanate, the great American jazz novel of "exquisite rhythmic lyricism"
(Bookforum).