Life has never been black and white for Lena Horne

No entertainer's journey more acutely reflects the shifts and struggles in race relations through the 20th century than that of Lena Horne.

Many black stars were as iconic and, frankly, more talented. But Horne, thanks to a confluence of factors her mixed heritage and light skin color, her ambivalence about and attraction to both white people and the civil rights movement and, not least of all, her long life was uniquely positioned to be an enduring trailblazer, and to face the tough choices and challenges that come with that title.

In his new biography, Stormy Weather, James Gavin offers a fascinating study of a complicated woman and the complicated times that shaped her. Gavin interviewed Horne, now 92, only once, in 1994, a few years before she withdrew into reclusion. But through conversations with key figures and probing research, he delivers a portrait of a very human artist who is as compelling for her foibles as her accomplishments.

Key to that portrait is Horne's family background, which includes an adored but absent father, a jealous mother and an activist grandmother who forbade Lena from playing with white children but also harbored disdain for lower-class blacks.

That girl evolves into a beautiful young woman who performs for white audiences in clubs where black performers are kept segregated and black fans shunned, and a Hollywood starlet who yearns to defy racial stereotypes as she sees prime roles go to white actresses.

Yet the frustration and bitterness afflicting Horne qualities mined in some of her most triumphant performances, notably 1981's Broadway smash Lena Horne: The Lady and Her Music aren't just written off to prejudice and a troubled youth. Gavin documents critics' qualms and Horne's own doubts about her abilities; her films, concerts and recordings are zestfully dissected.

Horne's personal relationships also come under scrutiny, with revelations of friends and colleagues abandoned after long affiliations and strained bonds with her second husband, the white composer/conductor/arranger Lennie Hayton, and her children and grandchildren.

The author quotes Horne throughout the book, drawing on various interviews. In the last paragraph, she observes, "I should have realized that maybe I was more loved than I thought, you know?" By crafting a dense, moving tribute that never dissolves into hagiography, Gavin has proven her point.