I don't know whether I've ever read a more poignant coming of age or more tender urban love story.

At the tender age of seven, Midnight, an Islamic African, is sent to American with his mother and younger sister, leaving behind a privileged life in Sudan for the streets of Brooklyn. He assumes responsibility for his family, as the man his father and his culture raised him to be. By the time, he reaches fourteen, Midnight has a handle on American culture and what it takes to survive on the mean streets. When he meets Akemi, a young but already renowned Japanese artist, he has found his soul mate. As they fall in love, Midnight must fight to preserve the love they share, completing his transition from boyhood to manhood.

MIDNIGHT was all hard edges—the BedStuy neighborhood, navigating the urban land mines of gangs, drugs, and turf, difficult for any boy, much less one without the presence and guidance of his father.

At the same time, MIDNIGHT was soft and downy as cotton— the tentative and tender developing love between the two cultures, the love and respect of a son for his mother, the caring and protecting of a brother for his sister, the honor and respect for cultural traditions that put Midnight at odds with his friends and neighbors but matured him.

I loved everything about MIDNIGHT except for two things. First, the story was too sexually explicit for my thirteen year old to read, even as I knew it was a story that he could relate to and would enjoy, and I'm not sure it had to be in order to be as satisfying a read as it was. Yet, the scenes with high sexual content fit perfectly into the story and were expertly crafted. Nothing salacious or gratuitous here.

Last, the ending comes completely out of left field—at least for me—and therefore left me with the cold, metallic taste of disappointment. Up to that point, the story was so enjoyable that it wasn't ruined for me but the unexpected finish tarnished an otherwise gem.