[Reed] has emerged as one of the more promising and prolific of the current young black writers in America. [Shrovetide in Old New Orleans] (articles, reviews, open letters, speeches and interviews) seems to represent everything that Reed has ever published. Such over-inclusion (some less worthy material) must relate to Reed's calling this collection "an autobiography of my mind starting in about 1970."

In his introduction Reed answers those critics who have called his fiction "muddled, crazy, incoherent" by explaining that his mind and method are multi-media oriented and by describing himself as a controversialist: "Stir things up a bit. Wake America from its easy chair and can of beer." Reed's aggressive polemical style, his attack upon American racism, his defense of a black esthetic and his opinions of white critics as bad judges of black writing have not endeared him to the white literary establishment…. Reed's often offensive tone is redeemed in part by his hip colloquial idiom, his penchant for self-dramatization and his passionate interest in everything that relates to African and Afro-American culture.

Especially interesting are Reed's travel-culture essays on the New Orleans Mardi Gras ("Shrovetide") and on post-Papa Doc Haiti ("I Hear You, Doc"). He is sensitive to cultural nuances and writes informatively about Haitian Vodoun, but his political opinions seem eccentric. He depicts Papa Doc Duvalier as a Houngan hero rather than a despot and feels that the Haitian poor (in their extreme squalor) are "happier" than poor American blacks bcause the Haitians have work and identity. Other pieces of interest include Reed's appreciative essay on Chester Himes, various interviews with black artists, a reassessment of Richard Wright and reviews about Josephine Baker and Charlie "Bird" Parker.

Despite father-destroying attacks on established writers—Ellison, Baldwin (very distasteful) and Mailer (excessively mauled)—Reed's collection offers many useful insights into current Afro-American culture. It is also a useful purgative for white complacency and an interesting self-portrait of a complex and talented black writer struggling for understanding and success on his own terms. (p. 635)