Take a photo of a barcode or cover
4.14 AVERAGE
4.14 AVERAGE
Great on audio. As usual for this author a wide cast of intertwined characters
dark
emotional
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This takes place in 1969, in the projects near the waterfront in NYC. I love the historical reeanctment of a community that I would never have been able to imagine. McBride know how to create chararacters. This is a novel full of grace. I highly recommend it
This book is unbelievably well written. I was captivated and enchanted by the characters. The way their lives weave together is serendipitous and charming and brilliant. I am very glad I read this. It took me way longer than I thought it would - it’s not particularly the most exciting novel, but man it is worth the read. 4.7 stars.
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
This is really a solid 3.5 for me, but a 3.5 where I want to round up instead of down, you know? Anyway, shout out to OverEducatedWomenWithCats for a solid discussion on this and helping me process my thoughts. Follow us on Instagram! Moving on... I struggled with this book because I just kept picking it up and putting it down and I couldn't figure out why. Normally I can devour a book in a weekend but this took me three weeks. The author is clearly taking his time with things; the way he writes, he's in no rush to get anywhere. We are treated to lots of little tangential characters and asides, which I do like - it was a fun glimpse into a different time and place, and I love the intricacies of human lives. That's why I read books! But I think it kind of killed the momentum of the book, and there was a lot of stuff that didn't really go anywhere (whatever DID happen to that church money???). I found the book intriguing, but not compelling, if that makes sense.
emotional
funny
hopeful
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Literary fiction that's still approachable as a crime or even a romance novel. And, really, one could arguably file under Christian Fiction. Hard not to be satisfied with this gritty-but-life-affirming book.
Why does Deacon Cuffy, i.e. "Deacon King Kong," walk up to the neighborhood drug dealer and shoot him one day? That incident sets off a shaggy dog story with a mysterious assassin, double-crossing, missing Christmas present fund, a hidden piece of priceless art, people falling in love with the unlikeliest of partners, and a whole host of memorable characters with names like SportCoat, Hot Sausage, and Sister Bum-Bum. Recommended.
A Tapestry of Lives in Transition: A Review of Deacon King Kong
There’s something undeniably compelling about Deacon King Kong—a book that left me deeply torn. The novel took me an unusually long time to finish, a delay I attribute not to disinterest, but to the sheer number of characters and stories it asks the reader to follow. At times, the multiplicity of perspectives felt overwhelming, making it difficult to stay fully engaged. And yet, paradoxically, it’s this very richness in character and community that lends the novel its depth and emotional resonance. The Cause Houses—a vivid, teeming complex of endearing, flawed, and resilient residents—felt alive in ways few settings do.
What the author achieves so beautifully is capturing the spirit of community within the Cause Houses, one that reminds me of the tight-knit bonds often found in Black communities. There is humor here, teasing, and a profound sense of shared struggle. Despite the challenges and conflicts, the residents build trust and reliance upon one another, bonds that transcend mere proximity to become something closer to family. This sense of community—of leaning on and uplifting one another—is increasingly rare in our society, yet it is something to be cherished, respected, and actively cultivated. The novel serves as a powerful reminder of how essential these connections are to a meaningful life.
One of the most intriguing aspects of the novel is its portrayal of how the Cause Houses, and its residents, change over time, especially as the neighborhood shifts from predominantly white to predominantly Black. The tension is palpable, with the introduction of drugs into the community further complicating these dynamics. The hostility between the long-established Italian residents and the newer Black families feels tragically inevitable—particularly the way the Italians’ sense of ownership over the area makes the mere presence of thriving Black families an affront to them. The novel lays bare the ugly truth that Black people, existing outside of subservient roles, provoke anger and resentment from those who believe they hold dominion over a space. The drug trade only gives them more fuel for their hatred, although, as the novel makes clear, that hatred would have existed regardless.
This is why the relationship between Sister Paul and Guido stands out as such a powerful thread in the story. Amidst the prejudice and violence, their bond provides a rare glimmer of hope. The quiet, enduring ritual of Guido sending cheese to the Cause House residents—without anyone knowing where it comes from—for over twenty years is a beautiful metaphor for the kind of community service that sustains people through hard times. While the cheese doesn’t solve all their problems, the joy and connection it brings to the residents are palpable. I found myself imagining what might happen if these kinds of acts of generosity and interdependence were more abundant—how much stronger and more vibrant communities like the Cause Houses could be.
And then there’s Haroldeen, the Death Queen—a minor character, yet one so compelling that she nearly steals the novel. Her presence lingers, dark and mysterious, and I’d eagerly devour an entire spinoff devoted to her. But it’s not the specifics of her murders that interest me so much as the life she leads around them. The torment, the quiet moments, the ripple effects of her actions on those around her—known or unknown to her—could form the basis of a deeply compelling exploration of trauma, pain, and the search for justice. There’s something there, in the undercurrents of her story, that begs for further exploration.
In sum, this is a novel that stirred up a mix of emotions—thought-provoking, heart-wrenching, and heartwarming all at once. Despite its sometimes overwhelming sprawl, it offers a profound meditation on community, resilience, and survival in the face of adversity. The book leaves a lasting impression, one that I suspect will linger with me for a long time.
There’s something undeniably compelling about Deacon King Kong—a book that left me deeply torn. The novel took me an unusually long time to finish, a delay I attribute not to disinterest, but to the sheer number of characters and stories it asks the reader to follow. At times, the multiplicity of perspectives felt overwhelming, making it difficult to stay fully engaged. And yet, paradoxically, it’s this very richness in character and community that lends the novel its depth and emotional resonance. The Cause Houses—a vivid, teeming complex of endearing, flawed, and resilient residents—felt alive in ways few settings do.
What the author achieves so beautifully is capturing the spirit of community within the Cause Houses, one that reminds me of the tight-knit bonds often found in Black communities. There is humor here, teasing, and a profound sense of shared struggle. Despite the challenges and conflicts, the residents build trust and reliance upon one another, bonds that transcend mere proximity to become something closer to family. This sense of community—of leaning on and uplifting one another—is increasingly rare in our society, yet it is something to be cherished, respected, and actively cultivated. The novel serves as a powerful reminder of how essential these connections are to a meaningful life.
One of the most intriguing aspects of the novel is its portrayal of how the Cause Houses, and its residents, change over time, especially as the neighborhood shifts from predominantly white to predominantly Black. The tension is palpable, with the introduction of drugs into the community further complicating these dynamics. The hostility between the long-established Italian residents and the newer Black families feels tragically inevitable—particularly the way the Italians’ sense of ownership over the area makes the mere presence of thriving Black families an affront to them. The novel lays bare the ugly truth that Black people, existing outside of subservient roles, provoke anger and resentment from those who believe they hold dominion over a space. The drug trade only gives them more fuel for their hatred, although, as the novel makes clear, that hatred would have existed regardless.
This is why the relationship between Sister Paul and Guido stands out as such a powerful thread in the story. Amidst the prejudice and violence, their bond provides a rare glimmer of hope. The quiet, enduring ritual of Guido sending cheese to the Cause House residents—without anyone knowing where it comes from—for over twenty years is a beautiful metaphor for the kind of community service that sustains people through hard times. While the cheese doesn’t solve all their problems, the joy and connection it brings to the residents are palpable. I found myself imagining what might happen if these kinds of acts of generosity and interdependence were more abundant—how much stronger and more vibrant communities like the Cause Houses could be.
And then there’s Haroldeen, the Death Queen—a minor character, yet one so compelling that she nearly steals the novel. Her presence lingers, dark and mysterious, and I’d eagerly devour an entire spinoff devoted to her. But it’s not the specifics of her murders that interest me so much as the life she leads around them. The torment, the quiet moments, the ripple effects of her actions on those around her—known or unknown to her—could form the basis of a deeply compelling exploration of trauma, pain, and the search for justice. There’s something there, in the undercurrents of her story, that begs for further exploration.
In sum, this is a novel that stirred up a mix of emotions—thought-provoking, heart-wrenching, and heartwarming all at once. Despite its sometimes overwhelming sprawl, it offers a profound meditation on community, resilience, and survival in the face of adversity. The book leaves a lasting impression, one that I suspect will linger with me for a long time.