The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store by James McBride

Unearthing Buried Secrets and Enduring Bonds in James McBride’s Latest Masterpiece

There’s something magical about the way James McBride weaves together the threads of history, injustice, and human connection. In his latest novel, “The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store,” he once again proves himself a master storyteller, conjuring up a vibrant community fighting to protect its own against the crushing forces of prejudice and power.

Set primarily in the 1920s and 30s in the fictional Chicken Hill neighborhood of Pottstown, Pennsylvania, this tale of unlikely allies and unexpected heroes pulls you in from the very first page. McBride’s prose sings with a blues-tinged lyricism, finding beauty and humor even in the darkest corners of the American experience. As I turned the final page, I found myself missing the characters already, wishing I could linger just a bit longer in their world of struggle and grace.

A Neighborhood United by Adversity

At the heart of the story is the Heaven & Earth Grocery Store, run by the indomitable Chona Ludlow, a Jewish woman with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. Her husband Moshe, a Romanian immigrant and theater owner, stands by her side as they become unexpected champions for their marginalized neighbors.

The plot kicks into high gear when the state comes looking for a young deaf Black boy named Dodo, intent on institutionalizing him at the nightmarish Pennhurst asylum. What follows is a community-wide effort to protect the child, spearheaded by Chona and a quiet but determined Black worker named Nate Timblin.

McBride populates Chicken Hill with an unforgettable cast of characters: the boisterous juke joint owner Fatty Davis, the enigmatic fortune-teller Miggy Fludd, the conflicted Dr. Roberts, and many more. Each one feels fully realized, their hopes and flaws etched with empathy and nuance.

A Masterful Balance of Light and Dark

What strikes me most about McBride’s writing is his ability to tackle heavy themes without ever losing his sense of humor or his faith in humanity. Yes, racism, anti-Semitism, and corruption run rampant in this story. But so do acts of kindness, moments of unexpected solidarity, and flashes of pure joy.

Take this passage, describing the Heaven & Earth Grocery Store itself:

“It was a nod to history, a sentimental bid to the great John Antes, Pottstown’s greatest composer. Nobody outside Pottstown had ever heard of Antes, of course, in part because he wrote trumpet sonatas that nobody played, and in part because the John Antes Historical Society’s Cornet Marching Band, which was composed of forty-five souls—numbskulls, pig farmers, heavy smokers, bums, drunks, cheerleaders, tomboys, bored college students, and any other white American in Montgomery County who could purse their lips tight enough to blast a noise through a trumpet—sounded like a cross between a crank engine trying to start on a cold October morning and a dying African silverback gorilla howling out its last.”

It’s this kind of writing that had me alternately chuckling and marveling at McBride’s wit and keen observational skills.

Echoes of Earlier Works

Fans of McBride’s previous novels will find familiar touchstones here. Like “Deacon King Kong,” this book revolves around a tight-knit, multiethnic community facing external threats. The historical setting and themes of racial injustice recall “The Good Lord Bird.” And as in “The Color of Water,” McBride explores the complexities of Jewish-Black relations in America.

Yet “The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store” stands on its own as a unique and powerful work. McBride’s growth as a writer is evident in the confident way he juggles multiple perspectives and timelines, building suspense while never losing sight of the deeper emotional currents running through the story.

A Timely Tale for Today’s America

While set nearly a century ago, the novel’s themes feel depressingly relevant to our current moment. The scapegoating of immigrants, the mistreatment of the disabled, the abuse of power by those in authority—these issues continue to plague us. But McBride also reminds us of the power of community organizing and grassroots resistance.

In one particularly poignant scene, Chona reflects on what America means to her:

“There must be three hundred folks working out there at Pennhurst. And most of your colored workers out there is from the Row. You know why? Your basic Chicken Hill colored wants to eat their food off the high fryer. They aiming to be high siddity like white folks. But pretending to know everything and acting like you’re better than you know you are puts a terrible strain on a body. It makes you a stumbling stone to your own justice.”

It’s moments like these that elevate the novel beyond mere historical fiction, forcing us to examine our own assumptions and prejudices.

A Few Minor Quibbles

If I have any criticisms, they’re minor. At times, the large cast of characters can be a bit overwhelming, and I found myself flipping back to earlier chapters to remind myself of certain relationships. Additionally, while the framing device of the skeleton discovery in 1972 is intriguing, I felt it could have been developed a bit more fully.

But these are small complaints in the face of such a rich, rewarding read. McBride’s prose is so engaging, his characters so vivid, that any momentary confusion is quickly forgotten as you’re swept back into the story.

A Worthy Addition to the McBride Canon

With “The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store,” James McBride cements his place as one of our most essential contemporary novelists. This is a book that will make you laugh, cry, and above all, think deeply about what it means to be part of a community. It’s a testament to the power of human connection in the face of systemic oppression.

For readers new to McBride, this novel serves as an excellent introduction to his work. For longtime fans, it’s a welcome return to form, showcasing all the warmth, wisdom, and wit we’ve come to expect from this remarkable writer.

In the Company of Giants

It’s hard not to draw comparisons between McBride and other great American chroniclers of the marginalized. There are echoes of Zora Neale Hurston in his ear for dialect and folklore, shades of Toni Morrison’s Beloved in his unflinching look at historical trauma. Yet McBride’s voice is distinctly his own—less experimental than Morrison, more optimistic than Hurston.

Perhaps the closest literary cousin to “The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store” is Edward P. Jones’s “The Known World,” another sprawling, multi-generational tale of race and power in America. Both books share a deep empathy for their characters and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths about our nation’s past.

A Story That Lingers

Days after finishing the novel, I found myself still thinking about Chona, Nate, Dodo, and all the residents of Chicken Hill. McBride has created a world so vivid, so alive, that it’s hard to let go. The final pages, which jump forward in time to reveal the fates of various characters, are particularly moving. Without spoiling anything, I’ll just say that the ripple effects of kindness and courage echo through generations.

In the end, “The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store” is a love letter to the power of community, to the bonds that form between people when they choose to see each other’s humanity. It’s a reminder that even in the darkest times, there are always those willing to stand up for what’s right.

The Verdict

I can’t recommend this book highly enough. Whether you’re a longtime McBride fan or new to his work, “The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store” is a must-read. It’s the kind of novel that not only entertains but also enlightens, challenging us to be better neighbors, better citizens, better humans.

In a world that often feels hopelessly divided, McBride offers a vision of what’s possible when people come together across lines of race, religion, and class. It’s a powerful antidote to cynicism, a warm embrace of a book that will restore your faith in the resilience of the human spirit.

So do yourself a favor—pick up a copy of “The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store.” Settle in with a cup of tea (or maybe some bootleg hooch, in honor of Fatty), and prepare to be transported to Chicken Hill. I promise you won’t regret the journey.