Reading Deacon King Kong reminded me of listening to a rich and soulful jazz composition played by a brilliant ensemble that improvises playfully like nobody's business and in doing so takes my breath away. I won't even try and extend this metaphor. I'll just say that James McBride is one genius composer.
Set in 1969 Brooklyn and populated with an unforgettable cast of characters--devoted church members and mobsters, cops and gardeners, drug dealers and baseball players, and above all, a seventy-one year old charmer who has spent much of his life imbibing and is now haunted by the ghost of his wife—Deacon King Kong centers around life in the decrepit Cause, a housing project infested by some memorable ants (yes, ants) with their own backstory, and located down by the docks with a view of the New York City skyline, glamorous and close, yet so faraway, along with Lady Liberty, torch held high. The irony will not be lost on you as this crime novel unfolds. The twists and turns left me laughing one moment, teary the next.
James McBride doesn't minimize how hard life is in the Cause. Racism and poverty are ever-present; violence is on the rise as heroin becomes increasingly available on the streets. But tragedy doesn't define the characters or the course of the narrative. in fact, McBride writes with such heartfelt zeal, weaving in joy and humor when least expected, that the novel might be called a comedy. Deacon King Kong is certainly a vivid and memorable glimpse into a diverse community, and a pleasure to read.
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