Fiction by James McBride
I read a memoir by this author years ago (see below) that I loved, but I actually didn't know he wrote fiction until my online reading recommendations started blowing up with this book title. Now I think I've written before about this, but to me Award-Winning Books are a mixed bag of Oh-my-gosh-so-good and I-don't-get-it and This-is the-most-pretentious-piece-of-bs-I've-ever-seen. So I never know what to expect with an award-winner. (See also my comments on "Smart Person Books" in Imagine Me Gone.)
This was a really really good novel with a weird-sounding title. The book begins with the discovery of some old bones under the street in 1972, and then steps back in time for the story of Moshe and Chona Ludlow's corner store (the one with the weird name) on Chicken Hill, a neighborhood of Jews and "coloreds" in the 1930's.
It's a beautiful character story, and the answer to the identity of the bones is almost peripheral. (Still I would have been super mad if the mystery hadn't been revealed. It was, fortunately!)
I also read by this author: The Color of Water
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