Love letters straight from the heart.

When she was a little girl, Pamela Newkirk often read her mother's love letters. "They were a real escape for me," she says. "They were so romantic and poetic. My mother, a beautiful African American woman, was the princess being wooed by a dashing black suitor." In A Love No Less: More Than Two Centuries of 'African American Love Letters (Doubleday, January 2003, $19.95, ISBN 0-385-50379-2), Newkirk reproduces the wonder and enchantment she must have felt upon discovering that hidden world of romance and possibility in her mother's trunk.

This slim volume is more than a fairy tale; it's a real-life affirmation of black humanity. "Love is packaged in this country's media as a luxury, something only the rich have the time or resources to indulge in," Newkirk argues. "A Love No Less showcases the romantic ties between slaves as prominently as it reveals the tender desires of prominent contemporary figures."

The book puts a human face on many of the most significant episodes in African American cultural history. A Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, Newkirk is currently associate professor of journalism at New York University. Her first book, Within the Veil: Black Journalists, White Media (New York University Press, September 2002, $17.95 ISBN 0-814-75800-2), led her to the correspondence of some black journalists. She originally considered putting together only love letters that involved African American writers, but soon decided to widen her scope.

She made trips to archives of African American materials around the country, beginning with the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture in Harlem. There she discovered the correspondence of a black screen legend, Fredi Washington, and a leading Harlem Renaissance artist, Aaron Douglas. Newkirk obtained permission to use some of Washington's correspondence but not the Douglas letters. To some extent, constraints in obtaining permissions for reprinting shaped Newkirk's selections, some prominent individuals were reluctant to allow their love letters to be used. "Many people who are clearly comfortable in the public spotlight were surprisingly shy when it came to revealing stories about their romantic lives," Newkirk explains.

She waded through dozens of rejection letters before she found willing participants in Tim and Daphne Reid, the actors, as well as Derrick Bell, the author and law professor, among others. Not surprisingly, several of those who initially declined have since expressed regret in not being in the book. It's easy to understand why; A Love No Less manages to give readers a glimpse into the intimate lives of its subjects, while preserving each couple's privacy and dignity. The book satisfies its readers desire for romantic stories but conveys an appropriate air of mystery, leaving us to imagine the complex lives from which these stories emerge.

In every section, Newkirk provides important context for each exchange. The brief historical sketches add another layer of meaning to each missive. For example, letters between slaves cannot be fully appreciated without an understanding of the chaotic historical circumstances that make their very existence absolutely extraordinary.

Similarly, the giddy telegram from Charles Drew, the surgeon who was a pioneer in the use of blood plasma and founder of the blood bank system, to the woman who would become his bride. It becomes even more poignant in light of Drew's sober professional achievements. "Still in a dream I walk like one entranced and think of you," are the words "Charlie" sent to Lenore Robbins, then a student at Spelman College.

A Love No Less is a provocative glimpse into the intimate corners of African American lives over a 150-year period. Some letters will make you shudder in their desperate revelations; others will spur you to compose your own heartfelt missives. All of them serve as a dramatic reminder of the power of romance. Whether the authors were slaves, scientists, celebrities, or soldiers, the letters show us that our intimate ties are what make it possible to face the dangers the larger world has in store for us.

--Emily Bernard is an assistant professor in the English Department at The University of Vermont. She is the editor of Remember Me to Harlem: The Letters of Langston Hughes and Carl Van Vechten (1925-1964).