No, this isn't a racist screed against the bruthas of Detroit but rather a pre-book review of Black Muscle by Lawrence Blaine which I ironically picked up today on Black Friday. Written in 1976 under the Holloway House stamp it entails the life trials of a Black (yes, capitalized) man and what he has to "do to survive in auto-factory jungle of savage labor bosses" in the Motor City.
From the looks of the cover, the plot mood from the short blurb on the back of the book and a few pages that I have skimmed through, raping white women, killing muthafuckas, dealing with labor heads, driving around fast cars and doing what you gotta do is what Black Muscle is about.
I usually don't do much in the way of book reading these days, especially blaxploitation, though I'll pick up an Iceberg Slim volume on occasion, read a chapter or two, laugh and then get on with my life. This one though is set in Detroit, mentions familiar streets and locations like Mack Avenue and Belle Isle, so I'll probably give it the once over. I may be the only one, too, since its ranked 11 million and change on Amazon. All the better!
Seeing as it's a relatively thin massmarket paperback it shouldn't take but an hour or two. If the first page, which details the protagonist Turk racing his car through traffic, cutting off another driver who smashes into both a cop and a bus in a horrific crash, thus eliciting uproarious laughter from the main character, is any indication of the rest of the book it should be a riot. All puns intended.