Book Look: The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store, by James McBride

Back in the 1930s, the setting of this novel, most Midwest towns had a “wrong side of the tracks” – an area of town given over to marginalized populations. In Pottstown PA, this area is Chicken Hill, and it’s occupied by a mix of Jewish families from Germany, Romania & Lithuania, blacks, and a smattering of European emigres. The community is anchored by Mosha, who owns the local theater/dance hall, and his compassionate, enlightened wife Chona, who runs the local grocery store. Despite Mosha’s bold move to integrate the theater and his wife’s unquestioning acceptance and generosity towards all, prejudice continues to flourish – but the one thing the residents of Chicken Hill have in common is that they are viewed with a mixture of suspicion and aversion by the white population of downtown Pottstown PA, led by Doc Roberts, misogynist/degenerate/proud KKK member, and a city council stuffed with members bolstering their supposed privilege with fairy tales of Mayflower ancestry and racial superiority. When the authorities of Pottstown set their sights on institutionalizing a young member of their community, however, the residents of Chicken Hill set their prejudices aside in order to protect one of their own.

Some members of my book club dinged this because “it starts off too slowly.” Which is not inaccurate: we don’t even meet the young Dodo until halfway through the tale, after which things do start moving at a brisk pace. So what’s going on the rest of the time? McBride’s introducing us to the deeply human residents of Chicken Hill, filling us in on their life stories, struggles, and aspirations. Because even more than fairy tales of Mayflower ancestry, what’s enabling the folks of Pottstown to cling to their illusions of superiority is the fact that they view of the residents of Chicken Hill as somehow less than human, an illusion that McBride’s backstories of love, loyalty and sacrifice forcefully dispel. By the end of the novel your list of personae dramatis may stretch to 2-3 pages, but your heart will have also stretched to incorporate a wider and deeper empathy for the struggles of the courageous immigrants who fled to the U.S. in search of new lives and new hope, and the compelling resiliency of the black, native, and disabled populations that were so appallingly disenfranchised. .

Enjoyed McBride’s depiction of the period and especially of the inner lives of immigrant Jewish communities. Delighted in the clever way that disparate strands of plot come together at the end to create a denouement in which Fate receives a highly satisfying “assist” from Justice. (I’m not the type of reader that demands happy endings, but isn’t it always satisfying when they happen?) Appreciated McBride’s storytelling chops. (Though still struggling to understand why, in a couple of places, the author inexplicably steps away from the story to interject rambling rants about current politics, which hits as both jarring and self-indulgent. How did his editor let these slip by?) And I especially applaud the way McBride incorporates and honors individuals with a range of disabilities (cerebral palsy, polio-related handicaps, deafness). Mostly, though, I savored the humanity of the world McBride has given life to here, as I think many other readers are likely to do.