God's Pocket

by Pete Dexter

When Leon Hubbard provokes his own murder on a construction site, his fellow workers agree to call his death an accident

Genres: Fiction, Crime, Novels, Literary Fiction, Mystery, Mystery Thriller, Audiobook

274 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1983

About the author

Pete Dexter is the author of the National Book Award-winning novel Paris Trout and five other novels: God's Pocket, Deadwood, Brotherly Love, The Paperboy, and Train. He has been a columnist for the Philadelphia Daily News and the Sacramento Bee, and has contributed to many magazines, including Esquire, Sports Illustrated, and Playboy. His screenplays include Rush and Mulholland Falls. Dexter was born in Michigan and raised in Georgia, Illinois, and eastern South Dakota. He lives on an island off the coast of Washington.

See more at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pete_Dexter

Reviews

[Kiekiat · Rating 4 out of 5]

God's Pocket is Pete Dexter's first novel. While it is not a tour de force that would cause a reader to exclaim, "My God that was a GREAT book," it is a worthy effort and I gave it four stars because of its clear writing, realistic characters and apt depiction of a neighborhood in Philadelphia and its down-at-heel denizens. Dexter's third novel, 'Paris Trout,' won the National Book Award--a case where the award was justified

I've often wondered if some authors write a novel to exorcise their demons over some horrific, tragic event in their own lives. I speculated about this in my review of William Wharton's 'Birdy.' Wharton lived through the Battle of the Bulge and no doubt was dealing with trauma from that bloody and chaotic skirmish. 'Birdy' is about a young man confined to a psychiatric hospital who is being treated for trauma suffered in the Pacific Theater in WW II.

As a semi-interesting aside, 'God's Pocket' is set in Philadelphia, hometown of William Wharton.

Philadelphia, commonly known as "Philly" to Americans, is the sixth largest city in the United States. It is home to about 1.6 million souls, with another five million or so residing in its vast metropolitan area. If Philly were to have a nickname, it might be known as America's "overlooked city." It is not a place much talked about, at least outside of its metro area, and is grossly overshadowed by metropolitan New York City, which is a mere 90 miles away (145km).

Its being overlooked is a shame, as Philly has much to offer and was the setting for the first and second Continental Congress meetings of the country's founders, also the place where the Declaration of Independence was written. It was the adopted home of Benjamin Franklin, one of the most distinguished persons living in America during its time as a British colony and a polymath who played a significant role in the founding of the United States. It is home to more colleges and universities than any other US city, home to the first medical school and arguably is one of America's leading medical centers in terms of number of hospitals. It also has a diverse population and all of the amenities one would expect from a large urban center.

And then there is a dark side!

Philly's nickname, based on its Greek etymology, is "The City of Brotherly love." It was founded and settled by Quakers, a peace-loving protestant religious sect who are small in number but strive to spread peace around the world.

Ironically, Philly is known as a tough town, a place where violence is commonplace and one's chances of getting in a bar fight or being a crime victim are pretty high. Philly has a 1 in 102 chance of being a victim of a violent crime. Philadelphia sports fan are notorious for getting into squabbles with fans of opposing teams. Philly had over 500 homicides in 2021. Crime stats are notoriously unreliable but either 524 or 561 murders occurred last year, the most ever. Philly is also one of the nation's most respected boxing cities. When the Petronelli brothers in Brockton, Massachusetts wanted to test their prospect "Marvelous" Marvin Hagler, he was taken to fight in Philly against tough local fighters.

The city was once known as having the most corrupt police force in America, sanctioned by then mayor Frank Rizzo. It is a well-known Mafia stronghold, though the outfit's influence seems on the decline. The city earned the nickname, "The city that bombed itself" after then Mayor Wilson Goode approved dropping explosive devices on residences housing what the city deemed a "terrorist group" called MOVE. This bombing resulted after a gun battle between Philadelphia police and members of the MOVE organization, causing 11 deaths, including five children, destroying 61 homes and leaving 250 citizens homeless.

Pete Dexter was also a victim of violence in Philly, which may have precipitated his writing 'God's Pocket." (The actual name of this South Philly neighborhood was "Devil's Pocket." I'll let the late writer Pete Hamill describe Dexter's misadventures in "Devil's Pocket." Perhaps they explain the subsequent demons that haunted Dexter and led to his writing 'God's Pocket?' This is from Hamill's foreword to Dexter's collection of assorted short pieces, entitled 'Paper Trails."

"In 1981, he (Dexter) wrote a column about a botched drug deal that left a young participant dead. Dexter explained what happened next in a 2005 interview with Kevin Lanahan of the "Albany Times Union: 'The kid's brother called me up and said he was going to break my hands. He bartended in Devil's Pocket, which has got to be the worst neighborhood in the city--maybe anywhere. I thought I could talk to him and work it out, so I went down there.'

Dexter arrived at the bar alone, and left without half of his upper teeth, thanks to patrons who set upon him with beer bottles. He returned a short time later and brought along a friend, the prizefighter named Randall "Tex" Cobb, a heavyweight contender good enough to eventually get a shot at the title. After all, it took heart simply to walk around Devil's Pocket.

'When we got to the bar about thirty guys with baseball bats came through the back door,' Dexter said. "Cobb turned to me and said, 'I hope this is the local softball team.'

It wasn't. Some of them carried tire irons too. Both visitors took a savage beating. Dexter's back and pelvis were broken. Cobb's arm was broken, and he was never the same fighter again. Dexter took a long time to recover, and parts of his body are still held together with pins and rods. While recovering, he started writing his first novel, and left Philadelphia for good in 1986."

Recommended for readers who have an interest in decent first novels, mob happenings in Philly, life in a poor Philadelphia neighborhood and the hassles of being a reporter on a major big-city newspaper.

[Joe · Rating 4 out of 5]

I started following Pete Dexter as a columnist for The Daily News, in Philadelphia. His stories of what most people would call the "underside" of big city life were made incredibly compelling, even if you knew the people in them were probably waiting to do you some serious harm. There was usually some little gem of writing, or a turn of phrase, that made you think about things you thought you knew, in a new way.
I read this quite a while ago, as Dexter was turning into a "novelist". This is an expansion of a true story that kept lifting the rug in different dirty corners of Philadelphia. None of the characters come out clean, but they weren't really very clean going in. In Dexter's able hands, that doesn't make them bad, or even almost-bad. It just makes them the characters that we all know are out there. Maybe from a neighborhood we try to avoid, or from a walk of life that we step around. (local note: the neighborood so beautifully brought to life and death here, is/was actually called "Devil's Pocket" of just "the pocket", for the way it took up the space between several angular avenues on the border of downtown Philadelphia.) It's pretty much gone now, part having become quite gentrified, and the other part slipping even farther from any chance at all.
Enough background! If you've ever lived in a city, you know some these people, like it or not. This story kept happening because of the connection between these guys, and what would be considered upper crust Phil-AH-delphians.. and their considerable foibles. Fascinating interplay,, and a great read. I;m a fan.

[Adam · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dexter’s sense of terror and comedy is firmly in place in his very first novel.The book follows the impact the random murder of an unrepentant sociopath on the neighborhood he is from and a couple other unfortunate outsiders pulled into the events. The story told is one featuring painfully exquisite character sketches, brutal comedy, and violence and told with eye towards grit and street smarts. It reminds me of Nathaniel West, Lehane’s Mystic River( Lehane uses a quote from this book as an epigram)Robert Stone, Richard Price (who provides a blurb), and Robert Altman and Sydney Lumet movies but Pete Dexter feels too original for comparisons.

[Amy · Rating 5 out of 5]

The pacing, the language that he commands with such ease, wonderful characters who can surprise without beggaring belief. Dexter chooses just the right details to sketch the individuals and their surroundings omitting anything surplus. You know where you are, who you're with, no loose ends. How is this a first novel?

The narrative clips along in brief episodes moving the action from construction site to neighborhood bar to racetrack to refrigerated truck. Grown men cry in bathtubs. Old women shoot interlopers in the nose. This is a very funny book.

God's Pocket is not my first Pete Dexter. I read Paris Trout, The Paperboy, and Train. I have collected all that I can find, and am parcelling them out to myself with an eye to making the pleasure last.

I can write no better blurb than the one by Richard Price on the cover my copy of the book: "God's Pocket sings, snarls, mugs, wisecracks, buys you a drink, steals your wallet, and takes you home to meet the folks."

[Gavin Armour · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nominell ein Kriminalroman, hat man es bei Pete Dexters GOD´S POCKET (1983/Dt. 2010) eigentlich mit der Alltagsbeschreibung einer Stadt und einiger exemplarischer, dort gelebter Leben zu tun, wobei die Ereignisse aus vielerlei Perspektiven erzählt werden. So wird die Story irgendwann nur noch zu einem roten Faden, an dem die Narration entlanghangeln kann. Wichtiger werden die einzelnen Personen, die das Erlebte verarbeiten müssen.

Das zentrale Ereignis ist der Tod eines jungen Mannes, der ab und an Jobs annimmt, meist seiner Mutter, bei der er wohnt, auf der Tasche liegt und ansonsten gern den starken Mann markiert. So auch an diesem Morgen, mit dem das Buch beginnt: Leon Hubbard fuchtelt auf der Baustelle, auf der er kurzfristig mit Hilfe seines Stiefvaters Mickey Arbeit gefunden hat, vor den Augen des Vorarbeiters Peets und dessem „besten Mann“ Old Lucy, einem Schwarzen, mit seinem Rasiermesser herum und erzählt bizarre Geschichten darüber, was er mit diesem Messer schon alles angestellt habe oder andere habe anstellen sehen. Irgendwann bedroht er willkürlich Old Lucy, verletzt ihn sogar. Und der erschlägt Leon daraufhin mit einem Eisenrohr. Keiner der Anwesenden Arbeiter fällt Peets, der das ganze vor der Polizei als Arbeitsunfall darstellt, ins Wort oder gar in den Rücken und so wird ein „Unfall“ konstruiert, mit dem zunächst alle gut leben können. Nur Leons Mutter Jeanie glaubt die offizielle Version nicht. Der „Unfall“ zieht nach und nach seine Kreise, verschiedene Gruppen haben unterschiedliche Interessen, die alle irgendwie an einem Punkt der Handlung durch den Tod Leons berührt werden. Und jede dieser Gruppen zieht ihre eigenen Schlüsse, wie mit dem „Umfall“, bzw. seinen Folgen umzugehen sei…

Damit ist aber keineswegs die Handlung dieses Romans wiedergegeben. Auch der Aufbau der Erzählung kann mit einer Inhaltsangabe nicht erklärt werden. Denn das Geschehen selbst scheint immer nebensächlicher zu werden gegenüber der Schilderung einer zerrütteten Ehe, den gesellschaftlichen Implikationen, wenn „die Sache“ anfängt, höhere Kreise zu erreichen, der Atmosphäre der unterschwelligen Bedrohung, wenn, ohne daß der Text es je explizit thematisiert (außer in ein, zwei Dialogpassagen), die Gerüchteküche wesentlicher Bestandteil für die Entwicklung der Story wird. Dexter hält die Geschichte nah am Fall, wodurch beim Leser den Eindruck entsteht, einer kohärenten Erzählung zu folgen. Letztlich wird er aber Zeuge eines Mosaiks aus Einzelerzählungen, die zusammengelegt (wobei die Reihenfolge manches Mal fast nebensächlich erscheint) eine Gesellschaft erklären, in der es zu viele Verlierer und eigentlich nur kriminelle Gewinner gibt. Jeder, der es in dieser Welt zu etwas gebracht hat, ist dabei nicht sauber geblieben – ob die Mafiamänner (die sowieso), deren kleinen Helferlein, ob die Polizisten, die Arbeiter, die Geschäftemacher oder selbst die Rentner, die sich unter gewissen Umständen als tödlich erweisen können. Niemand in diesem Panoptikum ist sauber, ist nett oder „gut“, es gibt ein paar, die es gern wären, so wie es ein paar gibt, den verstorbenen Mr. Hubbard eingerechnet, die sich in diesem Haifischbecken, für das das titelgebende Stadtviertel God’s Pocket stellvertretend steht, hervorragend eingerichtet haben und bestens mit dessen knallharten Spielregeln zurechtkommen.

Dexter macht das, was guter Noir schon immer gemacht hat: Er verleiht gesellschaftlichen Zuständen, Ängsten, herrschendem Wahn und der allseits verbreiteten Paranoia Ausdruck. Daß das im Noir meist pessimistisch, oft zynisch ausfällt, sollte dem Konsumenten dieser Stilrichtung – ob als Literatur, ob als Film – klar sein. Pessimistisch ist Dexter, keine Frage, zynisch wird er ansatzweise an einigen Stellen, doch ist er seinen so fehlbaren Figuren zu sehr zugetan, als sie billig preiszugeben. Dieses Werk wurde Anfang der 80er Jahre geschrieben, man könnte meinen, es spiele in den späten 50ern, ist aber in der Zeit seiner Entstehung angesiedelt. Reagan-Jahre. Erster Schub kapitalistischen Superwahns zu Gunsten einiger weniger, zu Lasten des Landes, das sich fast 20 Jahre nicht erholen konnte von diesem staatlichen Kahlschlag. Während der Lektüre meint man Springsteens NEBRASKA-Album von 1982) zu hören, dessen Songs von genau diesen Zuständen und davon erzählen, was sie in den Seelen der Menschen an Verheerungen anrichten. Und diese Verheerungen zeigt Dexter meisterlich auf. Niemand hier ist unschuldig, aber es bleibt auch niemand verschont, ungestraft oder ungerechterweise geschlagen. Keiner dieser Menschen, die einem Viertel wie God’s Pocket entstammen, hatte oder hat je eine wirkliche Chance, stattdessen müssen sie mit ansehen, wie jene, die Chancen hatten, diese mit Füßen treten, nicht wahrnehmen, nicht wollen, zynisch verachten. Die Dynamik, die aus dieser gesellschaftlichen Situation entsteht und wie sie sich auch zukünftig auswirken wird in dieser Gesellschaft – das kann man getrost von heute aus betrachtet sagen – hat Pete Dexter erschreckend genau antizipiert.

GOD`S POCKET hat Drive, es ist auf vielerlei Ebenen spannend, es ist lakonisch in der Sprache, manchmal ergibt es sich auf fast schreckliche Weise galligem Humor. Selbst unterhaltsam ist es auf seine Weise, wobei man schon durchaus Sinn für die dunkleren Seiten des Lebens haben sollte. Eben Noir. Großartiger Noir!

[Larry Carr · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pete Dexter’s, former Philadelphia newspaper columnist, first novel God’s Pocket is a soul searching dive into the depths of the underbelly life, and day-to-day existence of a white blue collar, crime and alcohol invested Philly neighborhood, of the early ‘80’s. [actual neighborhood is Devil’s Pocket] It is poignant, in parts heart rending, as Mickey, a truck driver, quintessential outsider, tries to fit in and get by in a place, parochial to say the least, where the odds and events are stacked against him.

Mickey owns his own truck from which his steady income is derived working for Bird, a local mob connected hood, high jacking long haul trucks cargo, preferably meat - KC or Japanese beef. From this he has been able to marry Jeanne, an attractive police widow…who comes with a house and son, Leon. Leon is shall we say not normal, not even for God’s Pocket. Now in his 20’s, he is loved, supported and covered for by Jeanne. Mickey wants and needs Jeanne - Leon is part of the package.

Leon. Mickey gets him a job as a bartender—“ Leon lasted three weeks. Mickey went down to try to straighten it out. “Listen,” the man said, “I expect him to steal. Everybody steals, that’s what a job is for, but he don’t have enough respect to keep it reasonable. He comes in the first night and grabs thirty. I got people workin’ for me for five years don’t take thirty.” — “And after that, when she asked him to find Leon another job, he’d always tell her nobody was hiring. He’d tell her it was the economy. Which was all right with Leon. At least it had been for three years.” But Leon wants to work again… “Mickey knew it was something else, but he didn’t know what. He did know by then that nothing would turn the kid around but a chance to run over you twice. “He’s always been good with his hands,” she said. “You know how old he was when he took the locks off upstairs.…” And he’d given in.” …

Mickey talks to Bird -he’s connected. “Bird had a famous temper and balanced that against a melancholy that left him weighing his life against his expectations” — “Any kind of crisis would set him off —and it always ended the same way. He’d go from mad to sad, and decide he’d wasted his potential. Bird had to stay pissed off to keep from being weak.” Bird: “But for somethin’ like this, I got to ask somebody to make a phone call. For somethin’ like this, they’re going to say, ‘For what?’ You unnerstand? Nothin’ is for nothin’.” Mickey nodded. “You still want me to do somethin’?” He thought of Jeanie, he put the kid out of his mind. “Yeah, see what you can do.” —“a couple of days later they called from the union hall for Leon to go down there and sign the papers” —Construction job. — “second week the kid was already showing up late for work, telling Jeanie some shit about changing routines.” But this job didn’t last long either, next thing Leon is dead [Construction Accident]. Police “investigate” … newspapers report [missreports] and then a columnist of legend is assigned.

Richard Shellburn. “—did he read Richard Shellburn yet. When he hadn’t, they’d stick the Daily Times in his face and tell him what Richard Shellburn had said while he read it. “That’s exactly what everybody’s thinkin’,” they’d say. “He’s the only guy knows what it’s like out here.” Mickey didn’t know why writing down exactly what everybody was thinking was any better than thinking it in the first place”

Read more of the tale … the saga of Mickey getting Leon planted in the ground… the columnist getting to interview the mother of the deceased… then a final reckoning of Mickey and Shellburn with the neighborhood at the Hollywood bar…

[Rick · Rating 3 out of 5]

A tough yet funny novel set in a blue collar backwater in Philadelphia in the 1980’s. Dexter knows the city and it’s residents like the back of his hand and you feel the grit and sweat rolling off his list of colorful characters.
Dexter has written better books Paris Trout and Deadwood but this was his first novel and it was well worth reading.

[Stacey · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you are not very Philly, this book may not be for you, because it has its flaws. (Insert every imaginable trigger warning here, including one for anyone who gets naked around a cat.) But if you are Philly, you will feel very fucking seen. Loved it.

[Dan · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars. Very good writing and character development. But the novel should have been a novella, too lengthy for the plot.

[Desirae · Rating 3 out of 5]

Pete Dexter’s novel is set in a fictional working-class Philadelphia neighborhood, “God’s Pocket,” which draws on the real-world environs of South Philadelphia and the tough milieu of blue-collar men, gambling, drunkenness, family troubles, and secrets.

In the book, the inciting event is the death of Leon Hubbard (in the novel) on a construction site—an “accident” that friends or colleagues may have covered up. The novel explores the aftermath: the grief of his mother, the step-father’s sense of obligation and guilt, the local hoods, the funeral director, and a journalist who comes in to stir things up.

Critics of the novel praised Dexter’s vivid dialogue, his rendering of the neighborhood, and the mix of absurdity, violence, and dark humour in the characters’ lives. As one source notes: “reviewers … commended Dexter for his masterful control of comic situations, fluent prose, and idiomatic dialogue. … the neighbourhood … ‘seems all too real.’”
At the same time, some critics found that the novel bore the marks of over-ambition: too many characters, too many subplots, a density of coincidence. As one summary puts it: “he piles on more complications and coincidences than his novel ought to carry.”
In short: the novel works as a gritty, textured portrait of a community—dark humor, crime, despair, loyalty, messiness—and while imperfect in design, it holds real character work and environment.

The Film Adaptation
The film version, released in 2014, retains much of the basic scenario of the novel: Mickey Scarpato (the stepfather figure) trying to bury his stepson (Leon, played by Caleb Landry Jones) who died under dubious “accident” circumstances; the neighborhood of God’s Pocket; the funeral director, the reporter etc.

Critically, the film received mixed reviews. There is praise for the cast and setting, but recurring criticism of tone, narrative coherence, and character development.

For example, Roger Ebert’s site says the film is “flat, boring” despite a great cast, pointing to tonal confusion and lack of genuine dramatic momentum. Another critic says that the film has many story-threads and characters but fails to pull them together into a coherent structure.
What stands out: even where the film falters structurally, the performances—especially by Hoffman—are singled out as meaningful. For instance, one reviewer writes:
“Hoffman makes unique, personal, realistic choices that other actors wouldn’t have considered.”
The film retains the flavour of the novel’s world—its roughness, its dead-end lives, its small-town cruelty and gallows humour—but struggles to convert that texture into satisfying cinematic form.

Performances: Philip Seymour Hoffman & Caleb Landry Jones

Philip Seymour Hoffman as Mickey Scarpato
In the film, Hoffman plays Mickey, a man not born to God’s Pocket, married to Jeanie (the mother of the deceased), scraping by via shady truck work, theft, gambling, funeral bills, and general loyalty to the neighborhood’s unwritten code. Critics consistently note that Hoffman is grounded, internalised, and in many ways carries the film—even if the material around him falters. For example:
“Hoffman … again finding ways through the cliché to occasionally tap into something genuine, whether it’s just in a world-weary shrug or a paunch that hints at a life lived hard and with more than its fair share of sadness.”

Another:
“His Mickey is morose, out of his element … Hoffman is alert and transparent.”
In this sense, Hoffman brings what might be called “craft rescue” to the material. He builds a quiet, haunted presence, which aligns well with the novel’s portrait of a man trapped in a milieu he didn’t choose but must navigate. In the novel, Mickey’s struggles are more fully drawn out, yet less explicitly shown; Hoffman gives the viewer the visible toll of that struggle.

If one is comparing novel to film: in the book, Mickey is drawn as a man who must raise money for the funeral, hide the body in his refrigerated meat truck, cover up lies and loyalty, and deal with personal moral erosion. In the film, Hoffman captures the defeated dignity of that predicament. While the film is criticised for not fully developing character arcs, Hoffman’s performance is held up as an anchor.

Thus, in terms of performance, Hoffman is arguably the strongest link between novel and screen: he realises a complex figure with integrity, nuance, and a sense of weight.

Caleb Landry Jones as Leon Hubbard
Caleb Landry Jones plays Leon Hubbard, the stepson whose death catalyses the story. Although his screen time is limited, the character looms large in narrative and thematic sense. In the novel, Leon is described vividly: he “makes other men nervous, talking to himself or anyone who will listen about the things he’s cut with his straight razor.” He is a provocateur, brash, dangerous, a loose cannon.

In the film, Jones embodies Leon as a jittery, unpredictable young man: an embodiment of community resentments, racial tension, and youthful recklessness. Critics note that Leon’s death is more of an event than a fully lived arc in the film. For instance:
“Poor Leon only has about five minutes of screen time, but in that he’s shown as being racist, ignorant and stubborn — he gets what he deserves.”

This is where the adaptation begins to falter relative to the novel: whereas the novel invests more in characterisation and the consequences of Leon’s life and death, the film uses him more as a prop that sets events in motion. In terms of performance, Jones delivers a committed portrayal: he plays Leon abrasive, volatile, threatening, credible as a catalyst. But the film does not always allow for deeper dimensions of Leon to surface (for example his contradictions, his longing, his self-destructiveness) the way the novel hints at.

If we compare: in the novel Leon is one of the more dynamic characters—you sense his self-awareness, his swagger, his menace, his vulnerability—while the film collapses much of that into shorthand. The result: a strong actor (Jones) given limited room, playing a function more than a full individual.

Adaptation Considerations: What Works and What Doesn’t
What works:

The film retains the novel’s sense of place: the claustrophobic neighbourhood, the bar culture, the debt-driven lives, the working-class despair. These details show up in the film’s design and performances, and both Hoffman and Jones anchor the world credibly.
Hoffman's performance helps the film transcend some of its structural weaknesses—his rootedness in the role helps ground the chaos around him.

The novel’s dark humour and absurdity also find their echoes in the film—moments of grotesque comedy, shifting moral gravity, messy human lives.

What doesn’t work (or works less well):

The film struggles with tone: several critics point out the mixture of black comedy, naturalistic drama, crime thriller elements never fully reconciled. The novel is more comfortable in its own tone.

The film condenses or skirts character depth: many characters are less realised on screen than in the book. Leon is one example, Jeanie (the mother) is another: critics say her onscreen version is “blank” compared to the novel.

The pacing and narrative structure are weaker in the film. The novel allows a slower build, more subtleties; the film reportedly rushes or juggles too many sub-plots and leaves some strands hanging.

In the novel, the moral and emotional consequences feel more pressing (the funeral, the cover-up, the community complicity) whereas the film often uses them for texture rather than full engagement.

Thus, while the adaptation succeeds in capturing atmosphere and deploying two strong performances, it falls short of the novel’s thematic richness and character complexity.

Conclusion
If one were to summarise the comparison in light of the performances of Hoffman and Jones:
Philip Seymour Hoffman’s portrayal of Mickey Scarpato is the film’s emotional centre and the best bridge to the novel. He conveys the accumulated weight of a man caught between loyalty, guilt, survival, and moral erosion. His performance lends an authenticity that the screenplay often lacks.
Caleb Landry Jones’s Leon Hubbard is compelling in his aggression, menace and volatility—but the film gives him less room to breathe as a full human being. In the novel, Leon’s character carries more texture; on screen, he becomes the spark rather than the flame.

Ultimately, the novel remains the richer experience for someone who wants to inhabit that world deeply—its characters feel more layered, its themes more resonant. The film, despite moments of power and a strong lead, is constrained by tone and structure, meaning that the performances often outshine the material.

If the measure is purely performance: Hoffman triumphs in delivering one of his last great roles; Jones does solid work within limitations. If the measure is adaptation: the film is a worthwhile companion but not a substitute for the book.
For readers or viewers: if you’ve read Dexter’s novel, the film offers a strong visual/performative version, anchored by Hoffman and Jones, but you’ll likely miss some of the novel’s subtlety and breadth. If you’ve only seen the film, it’s worth picking up the novel for a deeper dive into the characters and milieu.

[Mithun Prasad · Rating 4 out of 5]

Richard Price has this to say about this book and he has nailed it.
“God's Pocket sings, snarls, mugs, wisecracks, buys you a drink, steals your wallet, and takes you home to meet the folks."

[Ned · Rating 5 out of 5]

Pete’s first novel, my 3rd of his, is a tight little tale built around a range of characters in small neighborhood in Philadelphia. The plot is spawned very early and the setup draws you immediately by the realism of the dynamics of working class construction crew and an elderly black gentleman (a beautifully crafted saintly character who appears briefly) who is long serving day laborer and quietly endures the noise and distractions of labor unions, street life and racial assumptions inherent in 1980s Philly. A seeming random act (butterfly flapping its wings?) sets off a cascade of events that spreads through the community and inflames the simmering tensions just below the surface of the teeming, smelly and selfish elements of the urban organism. Unintended consequences run amok and before long a couple of people have been maimed and killed and loves lost and found. I won’t spoil the plot, since the master deserves to be read firsthand, but I will expand a little on the knot of characters since they are so masterful that, like great art, they will hit each of us according to our own unique reception.

I believe that novelists are artists in the true sense of the word, and if they tickle ones fancy, and open doors of perception and understanding and elicit pure emotion, they should be treated as such. Dexter does this for me because he makes me believe these people represent real people that live in a time and place, yet have universal human emotions of fear, envy, lust, despair and, fortunately, love. Mickey, a central character, ironically believed (falsely, but he uses it) to be “connected”, and the husband of the woman who’s son has just died, while looking at the corpse in the morgue observes “Mickey looked at Leon again. Leon without all that crazy shit floating around in his head, it was just a kid, a skinny kid… It didn’t look very substantial, to already be a whole life…Mickey saw that that was what Leon must have looked like to Jeanie every day of his life.” In just a few sentences, punctuated by the broken language in Mickey’s head, Dexter conveys the mystery of love and revelation as he glimpses his beloved wife’s point of view. This book is chock full of pith observations, told from the brains of a range of characters, each in their own vernacular. He smoothly moves from each and weaves a patchwork into a composite of the whole gritty Philly environment of the 80s. The array and depth of characters is exemplified by the reluctant funeral home director, “smilin’ Jack”, constantly embroiled in shouting matches with his “upstairs” father (whom we never meet), trying to sell a coffin to Mickey (p 64): “Smilin’ Jack always assumed he had money, that he didn’t have. Everyone in the Pocket did. They assumed he was connected to. There was nobody but Bird that knew anything about it, and that included Jeannie too… She kept her accounts and he kept his, and it seemed like a funny way to be married but she kept a distance from everything. He guessed it was her way of seeing things”. Mickey is a sympathetic character, trying to keep up a false image to keep his wife Jeannie, the neighborhood beauty, from straying and to maintain a living. This kind of tension makes Mickey’s subsequent actions logical to the reader, while a mystery to his wife and the rest of the community. Just like in life, where we have but a glimpse of each other and scratch our heads at the actions of others. In terms of pure observation and descriptive power, Dexter amazes me, such as the little vignette where Mickey sees the ticket taker at the theatre as “an old woman who’d painted her lips half an inch beyond where they stopped watched him from inside the ticket booth. She looked like a baby chicken in an incubator. He wondered who she painted herself up for. He’d wondered if she’d laughed when she was younger, while she was getting laid. She yawned while he watched her, her mouth turning into a tiny black hole. He could imagine a lizard coming out of there, but not the getting-laid kind of laughing”. God’s Pocket is loaded with this kind of imagery, and speaks worlds about both the observer and the observed, their empathy and their disgust.

Every book I’ve read by Dexter demonstrates and uncanny observation of race and class, especially those downtrodden and ignored. For example, Lucien, or “old Lucy” (everyone in town has a nickname!), having just experienced the most dangerous experience of his life and fearing his own death, as observed by his pious, loving and saintly wife: “The last time she’d seem him smile like that his mother had just died. She was ninety-seven, and they wasn’t near enough power left in her motor to make things work all at once, so sometimes she did her thinkin’ and sometimes she did her talkin’, but it wasn’t never at the same time”. The intelligence of his wife, her quiet power of observation, and her understanding and longsuffering, is pitch perfect. Dexter changes his voice to that of each narrator like a race car driver shifting gears with lubricated and invisible perfection. So perfect you could miss it, his writing is that good. Mickey’s friend “Bird”, the Italian, who really is marginally “connected”, and his aged mother are simply a hoot and richly and despicably rendered, but some of his hangers on are marginal and terrifying: “Bird’s nephew sharpened the knife. The blade was a foot and a half long, and flashed in the light. The light came from two bulbs hanging over the table from black cords that had been taped six of seven places. Now that he looked, Mickey saw that one of them was taped with Band Aids. When the knife was sharpened, the nephew began to cut. He never considered the meat, he just cut. He had a quick, practiced motion – you could almost see Leon with his razor – and a look on his place as if he’d seen everything on the planet. If he’d opened up a cow’s ass and found pearls, his eyes would have stayed the same way they were – flat as a foot of snow”. That world-weary aspect, not quite cynical, with the sparkle of danger, is one of Dexter’s particular delicacies. He tosses them off seemingly for free, where most authors would labor and push their cleverness.

From my other readings of Dexter, and a tad from his bio, I know his penchant for violence is always behind the scenes. His authenticity describing it seems pure, seems personal, hard won. Unlike those caricatures so common in film and other books, you get the feeling Dexter has been in some real scrapes and knows pain, real pain, not the kind the fearful imagine it to be. Take this section (pp. 121), where the construction foreman, “Peets”, realizing his old friend Lucy is going to be unfairly singled out, having taken a blow to heat from two heavily muscled thugs intending to do him more serious harm: “Peets felt an old calm settle in, he noticed the blood dropping around his boots – not a lot of it, about like the drops you get right before a heavy rain… the one with the knuckles on his fist had a peculiar look on his face, but he steadied himself and turned to throw another punch… Peets reached out and smothered his hand, and then found his face, and then with the same broad motion you might use to shape an eye cavity in clay, he pushed into the corner of the socket and took the man’s eye out…and the calm passed and something was loose in Peets.” The turnings of the mind, the surprising clarity of vision amongst chaos, are remarkable. Like some of the great war novelists have done.
There is so much more in this book, in fact it is absolutely dense with the richness of its characters and a joy to read. I would be remiss to not comment about the daily news reporting and especially the aged (53 is old? That’s what I am!) columnist, one part completely cynical about his job and the other part with the writers ear and eye for the underlying truth to tell. Like all humans, at his core he seeks love, but in a wolf-like fashion, following his clever instincts and drowning his regrets and despair in regular bouts of drunkenness while pursing Mickey’s wife: “Richard stood up and went to the table where he’d thrown his pants over the typewriter when he’d come in last night…the change fell on the floor, quarters and dimes scattered over the room in a way that might have resembled the beginning of the universe. It wasn’t 10 o’clock in the morning and he’d already discovered the big bang….he was only partly worried about Jeannie’s husband. He’d watched them together for two minutes, and that was more time than he’d needed. She looked right through him, and he looked at her like there was nothing else in the room”. You get the predicament, and the battle for Jeannie is a close one, all the while she keeps a close lid on her own mysterious musings and needs.

In summary, this book is the kind that makes me delighted to see on Google that Dexter is still alive and there are more of his books I haven’t read. Pete – if you are out there, keep working at it! It must be hard to conjure up after awhile, and autobiographical material like “God’s Pocket” must have drained it way back in 1983. Authentic writing requires true living, and that can be hard with continued success, so I wish Pete all the best in keeping it real. And thank you, for telling this farmboy your tale, and helping me understand working-class urban life and these fellow humans all around me.

[WortGestalt · Rating 4 out of 5]

Leicht melancholisch, nicht ohne Ironie und sehr nah dran an seinen Figuren ist »God’s Pocket« ein Roman, der eindringlich ist und dabei doch nüchtern bleibt. Pete Dexter zeichnet ein Bild von einem Arbeiterviertel und seinen Bewohnern, von einer Gemeinschaft in der Einsamkeit der Großstadt.

[Jeffrey Bumiller · Rating 2 out of 5]

Don't bother. Youse can find a better book to read than this one.

[Alec Downie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Goodfellows written by a man with an obsession with hard-ons

[Jonathan Briggs · Rating 4 out of 5]

A JON AND HIS MA BOOK CLUB SELECTION

As an old newspaperman (emphasis on the paper, just so we're clear), Pete Dexter knows the art of the lead: "Leon Hubbard died ten minutes into lunch break on the first Monday in May, on the construction site of the new one-story trauma wing at Holy Redeemer Hospital in South Philadelphia. One way or the other, he was going to lose the job." All the facts, followed by a hook to get you on to the next paragraph.

Leon is a persistent pest. "The more you don't like him, the more he likes bein' around." He brags of being "connected" and waves a straight razor around to impress and intimidate his fellow workers, who aren't really working. Leon takes offense that one guy, Old Lucy, is on-site to get the job done, not to admire Leon's razor prowess. On one of Leon's especially manic, pill-addled days, he takes his razor to Old Lucy's throat, and Old Lucy takes a pipe upside Leon's head, further scrambling the young man's brains and forever silencing his speed-freak chatter. The site's foreman, Coleman Peets, perhaps feeling white man's guilt for permitting Leon's abuse of Old Lucy for so long, tells the police Leon was killed in an accident involving the construction equipment. The other members of his crew go along with the story.

Investigating officer Calamity Eisenhower is crazy enough to run around armed in a bunny suit, but that doesn't mean he's oblivious when people lie to him. "In Eisenhower's experience, when everybody lied it was usually best to leave it alone."

As it does so often to the undeserving, death confers a celebrity sainthood upon Leon. To the barflies and blue-collar bozos of God's Pocket, Leon becomes "what the neighborhood stood for." Death also magically grants Leon a competence at his job that he never possessed when alive and on the job. Doubts arise: "Leon didn't just let something drop on his head and kill him."

Leading the doubters' charge is Leon's mother, Jeanie Hubbard Scarpato, whose "life had more sorry chapters than the Old Testament." Jeanie's story lands in the lap of ace ayhole newspaper columnist Richard Shellburn, the printed voice of Philadelphia. "He's the only guy knows what it's like out here." Always ready to fake a human interest story, Shellburn, still sweating out last night's drunk, pays a bleary visit to the grieving "widow." Shellburn is smitten. Jeanie is starstruck.

Jeanie's husband, Mickey, a small-time thief and compulsive gambler, dodges his wife's grief and his disapproving, donut-eating sisters-in-law by drinking in bars and dozing through horror double-features at the grindhouse. Mickey's got pressures of his own, trying to sell a truckload of contraband beef and recoup all the money for his stepson's burial that he blew at the track (good thing he has a refrigerated truck).

Leon was never really connected as he boasted, but Mickey knows a guy who knows some guys who set out on their own ill-fated, brass-knuckled investigation into Leon's death.

Repercussions mount.

"God's Pocket" is one cynical, snarkily venomous takedown of the tribalism of the urban dumbass. "The only thing they can't forgive is leaving the neighborhood." It's raunchy enough that I should have been embarrassed to read it with my mother, but she knew the deal with Dexter before she went in. Through the course of the book, we emailed each other lines we found especially hysterical.

Before writing his first novel, Dexter sharpened his chops as a newspaper columnist, and he's definitely not above stabbing his former profession in the back. He comes from an older generation of journalists, from the time before newspapers abdicated their responsibilities and linked arms with the broadcast bubbleheads to become "the media" and together await the vast, slack-jawed vacuum of extinction via Internet. Although the industry has changed much since the '80s, when Dexter made his literary debut, chain execs and blowhard, burnout columnists remain evergreen subjects. (I won't dwell on the chain saw scene as I'd like to keep my day job a little longer.)

From his days on the beat, Dexter retains the old-school crusty eye for human detail: the gross physicality of men, the mercenary pragmatism of women. He's frequently hilarious without resorting to the forced wackiness of mugging columnist/novelists such as Dave Barry and Carl Hiaasen.

I'd be very surprised if there was anything in this book that wasn't somehow, at least in part, based in fact: real events, real people. There's no such neighborhood as God's Pocket. But somewhere out there in Philadelphia, I have no doubt, there's a God's Pocket.

[Dan · Rating 3 out of 5]

this is a pretty solid crime novel. a few moments are really brilliant; written with a real sense of economy and sensitivity. dexter has a knack for summarizing big ideas with little, incidental thoughts. it's an oil-and-water mix of interesting characters (peets, mickey) and predictable ones (jeanie, shellburn), and unfortunately it wraps up the narratives surrounding the stock characters better than a few of the more inspired ones.

it's also a novel of philadelphia (my city), at its nastiest, most bigoted and most territorial. as a look at tough white people, it's right on the money (at least in my estimation/experiences). the novel followed an episode in dexter's own life where he wrote about this neighborhood (actually called "the devil's pocket") for the daily news and ended up getting his ass kicked by some unhappy locals. for all of that, it's not exactly bitter - though it's unclear how much i'm supposed to align dexter with shellburn. fortunately, he the good sense to not idealize the character.

[Rebeca · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mickey Scarpato was 45 years old and did not understand women. It wasn't the way bartenders or comedians didn't understand women, it was the way poor people didn't understand the economy. You could stand outside the Girard Bank Building every day of your life and never guess anything about what went in there. That's why, in their hearts, they'd always rather stick up a 7-11.

He did know by then that nothing would turn the kid around but a chance to run you over twice.

Peets' morning went by a minute at a time.

Mickey knew from the last five days how it was when all you had for ambition was for time to pass...

TD had been raised underprivileged in a country where they liked to say anybody could grow up to be president, but now he'd made himself a place, and the spirit behind that relief was the single most repulsive thing he could think of.

[Chrissie]

************************

*The Paperboy 4 stars
*God's Pocket TBR
*Paris Trout only available abridged in audio format

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

a ground level crime masterpiece

Few stories tell the truth of working class wiseguys (mobbed up and otherwise) as this one, with movies like Mean Streets and novels like The Friends of Eddie Coyle being clear antecedents. Dexter's writing is undeniably poetic, and while it doesn't end as grimly as some similar stories, it leaves a rough and undeniable impression.

[Old Man JP · Rating 4 out of 5]

Young Leon Hubbard gets killed on the job and it leads to a whole series of unfortunate events. Using his humor and gritty style Dexter writes some of the best deeply flawed characters in literature and puts them in some of the most serious situations so that his books can't help but be enjoyable reads.

[Sharon Powers · Rating 4 out of 5]

Book Review by: Sharon Powers.

"Leon Hubbard had worried most everybody on the crew at one time or another, he'd even touched something in Peets. It wasn't the razor--Peets had taken razors away from people, that was as simple as understanding you were going to get cut--it was something in the kid you didn't want to listen to. The truth was, he didn't believe the kid's stepfather was connected. That was more bullshit, the same way the razor was. He kept it in his back pocket and brought it out twenty, thirty times a day. He used it to cut lunch meat and tell stories and shape his fingernails. Once they'd found a bat inside a cinder block and he'd used the razor to cut its head off. Then he'd wrung everything out of the body and said, 'I seen that happen to a nun once.'" (p.4)

The, above, brilliant, disgusting paragraph nails Leon Hubbard's personality down to a "tee." And whether Leon is a psychopath or a sociopath is irrelevant, Pete Dexter shows us in just one short paragraph everything we don't want to know about Leon. For, even if we believe that Leon's little assertion about the nun is "bullshit," we still see something twisted about him, "...something in the kid [we don't] want to listen to." Something in the "kid" we know is about to boil over into trouble. Later, this "not wanting to listen to," this something you don't want to see or know about Leon continues as Peets observes, "It was like when you're watchin' something you don't want to see, but you can't look away" (p. 105). This behavior is often seen in witnesses to a crime--they can't look away and can't help seeing it, but having seen it, still adamantly deny having seen it.

The people of God's Pocket (South Philly) live with this attitude about Leon Hubbard. As you read the book, look to see what else its characters deny hearing or seeing. Relationships. Bigotry. Pain. The "dirtiness" of the city's people--whether or not we refer to the city and its people literally or metaphorically! [3]
THE BOOK: [Note: Some spoilers are present in the following material.]
Leon Hubbard is the pivotal point in this story. A story about a young man who, as the book's publisher's say, "had it coming" to him. And what exactly did Leon Hubbard have due and coming to him? Why, nothing more than an "accidental" death. But Leon's mother thinks there's more to the story than meets the eye--even though she cannot explain why she thinks that way. She convinces well-known and popular newspaper columnist, Richard Shellburn, to "look into" things for her. Does the alcoholic and womanizing Shellburn take up the cause just to get into Jeanie Hubbard Scarpato's bed, or is more going on (than a just cause)?


In the upcoming movie, Philip Seymour Hoffman stars as Mickey Scarpato,
and John Turturo, stars as Arthur 'Bird' Capezio,Mickey's friend and accomplice in this scene from the movie,God's Pocket (set in South Philadelphia, U.S.A.).

And then there is Jeanie Hubbard Scarpato's husband, Mickey Scarpato--Mickey tells his friend, Arthur "Bird" Capezio, about his wife's concerns that something was concealed from the family regarding Leon's death. Bird goes to Vinney (a made man in the area) for a favor to have him "look into" things for the family. So now, along with the police, a total of three investigations about Leon's death are taking place. It isn't long before a domino effect has exciting interactions happening all over God's Pocket in South Philly.

Leon is considered to be "bad news." What other kinds of bad news face the characters in the book?

This story is about insiders and outsiders, a mother's love, and a meat wagon with more than just beef in it, and how people deal with "bad news." God's Pocket is irreverent and gritty, hilariously dark and broodingly funny. We must know...will the people of God's Pocket bury the truth about "bad news" Leon because they don't want their illusions destroyed? Will Leon take his "bad news" with him to the grave? Or will Vinney and his boys "kill" the story to keep God's Pocket's "dirty" little secret(s) safe?

MY FAVORITE QUOTE:
Briefly, to set the scene: Vinney "The Italian," has sent two men to rough up Coleman Peets, foreman on the worksite where Leon died, in an attempt to get information about Leon's death to pass on to Arthur 'Bird' Capezio who then intends to pass the info. on to Mickey, and he to Jeanie. It's the end of the workday and Peets is getting ready to go home--he is standing in the bed of his pickup truck shoveling sand out of it into a pile. The two thugs approach and one climbs up and stands behind Peets. Here's what happens next:

[The thug said,] 'We can do this the easy way or the hard way....the other one fit his fingers into a set of artificial knuckles...'What's it gonna be home boy?' [Peets said,] 'It happened the way I said to the police, and you Jew boys can do it any damn way you want--hard or easy--and it don't matter to me'....The one who had pushed him threw the hand with the artificial knuckles at Peets' face, and caught the top of his forehead....Peets felt an old calm settle in, he noticed the blood dropping around his boots...he noticed a man across the street [standing and] watching...The one with the knuckles...turned to throw another punch. Peets reached out and smothered his hand, and then found his face, and then, with the same broad motion you might use to shape an eye cavity in clay, he pushed into the corner of the socket and took the man's left eye out...[Peets] caught another look at the man across the street. He was sitting on a fire hydrant now, watching...[The second man, Peets] picked him up by the jaw and the pants and held him over his head...He threw the body now, from the bed of the truck to the ground. One of the legs attached to it hit the rear gate of the truck, twisted and came to rest bridged to the little pile of sand Peets had shoveled out of the truck. The leg looked broken, but Peets jumped down and made sure. Then he looked across the street at the man on the fire hydrant. The man looked back. He stood up, slowly, nodded, clapped five or six times and then headed east down the street. Philadelphia. (condensed quotation: pp. 118-122)

I really like it that Coleman Peets isn't just going to stand around and wait for two thugs to beat him senseless, or put him in the hospital. And while we don't know, in the story, who the watching bystander is, who approves and even applauds Peets' handling of the situation, in some sense, we as readers, join that anonymous bystander in cheering Peets.

Even so, after the applause and cheering has died down, we must consider that the bystander, like many witnesses to crimes or violent behaviour, does not call the police. He is one of those silent witnesses who sees nothing, hears nothing and knows nothing. Street justice has been served. But, if we know anything about "made men," we know the boss cannot just let it go that his men were beaten and hospitalized--someone will have to pay. But in this case, it isn't Peets. The vingnette reinforces Pete Dexter's motifs in the story of the unseeing and unhearing witnesses who live in God's Pocket.

WHAT (ELSE) I THINK ABOUT THE BOOK:
A number of wonderfully interwoven themes exist, so let's just look at a few of the most important themes.

(1) The themes of "safety" and "knives": We start out with Leon's straight razor, a knife. It is the opposite of a "safety" razor--it is anything but safe; so, what we are really talking about is, "not being safe." Of other knives in the story, one of particular interest is the one used by the butcher boy, Tony ('Bird's' nephew) who uses it to cut up the stolen meat (a big part of the black humor of the book and movie). The young man is so proficient at cutting up the meat, that watching him put them in mind of Leon, and one could almost see Leon with his razor (p.111).

And then there is Richard Shellburn, the columnist, and an outsider to the Pocket, who carried a picture in his head that he was SAFE all the time. He even had a little retreat, a secret little plot of land he could retreat to when things got to him (p. 136). But Shellburn wasn't safe; and, he never saw it coming. The danger came from his boss.

Richard Shellburn created a picture in his head that he was "SAFE" all the time. Little did he know that he was about to be taken out in his own end zone.

In fact, his boss, T.D. Davis, had lived through something traumatic that had him always looking at the "timing" of things. At a former paper, an employee came in wielding a chain saw and cut up his desk--in an attempt to keep things quiet Davis had issued a "no talk" order. It leaked out to the other papers and Davis was fired. Ever after, Davis always kept a watchful eye on employees. In a meeting one day with Shellburn, Davis considers that he has not been as vigilent with Shellburn as he should have been.

Davis doesn't want Shellburn to destroy him, so he sets Shellburn up--takes him out first. Davis knows that the piece Shellburn wants published will spell his ruin and perhaps his death, so, Davis approves the article for publication. Later, the people of God's Pocket are so incensed by Shellburn calling them "dirty," that one evening at a bar (while Shellburn is having a heart attack) they attempt to beat him to death. But he dies first, and they end up beating his dead body.

What happened here, to Shellburn, is called a "safety" in football. Where you are tackled from behind your own goal line, often, not seeing it coming. That is, basically, what happens to Shellburn--he gets taken out behind his own goal line. Alternatively, you can look at Shellburn and his assistant, Billy Deebol, as playing the safetymen who defend the furthest area back in the field--God's Pocket. But I like the "Safety" definition, better. I wonder if T.D. Davis's initials stand for "Touch Down"? It's not the same thing as a "safety," but it's still kinda funny...eh?

Finally, we have safety as used in the workplace, and safety in sex (rubbers)--I'm thinking of Leon's sexual liason with Fat Pat, here; also safety when the judge (Kalquist) acts in a trial to protect an accused man on charges of murder. Jeanie Hubbard, after her first husband's death, accepts Mickey Scarpatto and marries him because she feels safe with him. And then there is the whole neighborhood--anyone who is "OF" God's Pocket is safe in the group--it's the outsiders who have to watch out.

(2) Outsiders/Insiders: If you were born and raised in God's Pocket, you're in, if not, no matter how long you are there, you're still an outsider. The night of Shellburn's death, when the patrons are attacking Shellburn, the bartender tells them to "take it outside." And, Mickey, in God's Pocket for years, and married to an insider (Jeanie), making deliveries to the bar for years, is told, "You ain't from here either, so stay the fuck out of it" (p.267). Later some street kids tell Mickey, "Yo, Mick...we want you to know we 'preciate you not talkin' to the cops. You stood up, like you was part of the Pocket." Mickey responds, "Don't include me in nothin' about the Pocket." (p. 269).

(3) Forgiveness, Leaving the Neighborhood, and Love: The scene takes place in the Hollywood Bar where Ray and Mickey are talking. Everything we need to know about the Pocket happens in this conversation:
Rays says, 'The average American has substituted cliches for thought.' Ray threw down another shot and asked Mickey, 'You want to know the real reason I never left?...The real reason,' he said, 'is forgiveness'...'I want to be forgiven.' Ray shook his head, 'You can't forgive me [Mickey],' he said. You're an intelligent man, but you don't know anything, here. I grew up with these people. They've seen me lying in puke and I've seen them lying in puke'...no matter what I am they've got to forgive me...The only thing they can't forgive is leaving the neighborhood...McKenna gave last call at two and turned on the lights...somebody yelled, 'Yo, turn off the fuckin' lights.' McKenna went back to the wall and dimmed the lights. 'Drink up,' he said again. And they did. They'd seen each other in the light once, and that was enough...Mickey watched them leave...and he knew in that moment exactly what Ray had been talking about, only he'd said forgiveness when he meant love. Mickey could see how you could get them mixed up. (p.227)

By the end of the book when Mickey leaves we can see he better understands about forgiveness and love with his wife--perhaps there was not love there, only acceptance and safety, for a while; he keeps his crazy friendship with 'Bird,' and perhaps that is enough...(fraternal) love. And then, of course, they commit the one unforgiveable sin, they "leave the neighborhood."

THE MOVIE: Go to YouTube and take a look at the insane trailer, rife with black humor and making me laugh out loud. I loved seeing Hoffman (AKA Mickey) chasing down the meat truck on foot, which, in turn, causes a traffic accident with a bus, and that, in turn, causes Leon to fall out of the refrigerated truck and into the street...to the amazement of all! [Note: only part of this scene is in the trailer.] Of course, I've read the book and can "read" some of the scenes and know why they are included. If you read the book, you'll get in on the "inside" jokes, too.

Philip Seymour Hoffman stars as Mickey Scarpato, and John Turturro as Arthur 'Bird' Capezio, and Joyce Van Patten as 'Bird's Aunt Sophie (You just gotta love Aunt Sophie--what a surprise she is, and...what a pistol!), Christine Hendricks as Jeanie Scarpato, Caleb Landry Jones as Leon Hubbard, Bill Buell as Ray, Richard Jenkins as Richard Shellburn, Arthur French as Lucien 'Old Lucy' Edwards and Glenn Fleshler as Coleman Peets. Writing Credits go to Peter Dexter for the novel and Alex Metcalf and John Slattery for the screenplay; Directing the movie is John Slattery. The movie is Rated R, is 88 minutes long, and is placed in the Drama category. The movie opens in theaters in LIMITED RELEASE on May 9, 2014 (USA).

MY RECOMMENDATIONS AND RATINGS:

The Motion Picture Rating (MPAA) is R. In this movie it is rated R for the violence, the language throughout the movie and sexual content in- cluded. I would, likewise, rate the book the same way.

I do not recommend this book for young children, or for some sensitive readers who are easily distraught over death and violence or bad language. I do, however, recommend this book to all adults who may enjoy black humor, gritty realism, and an irreverent look at life.

This story is set in South Philly (God's Pocket, South Philadel- phia), and is, therefore, a regionally-based story. Those who know nothing of Philly may not understand all the re- gional references taking place within the context of the book and movie.

I was surprised by this book. I, normally, don't care too much for black humor, but this book was not so "off the wall" that I couldn't enjoy it. As a matter of fact, the tongue-in-cheek satire where the book pokes fun at its own characters and city and life-style really made me chuckle. No. Not the loud guffaw, but the chuckle. The, "Yeah, I got it" chuck, chuck, chuckle.

Way to go Pete Dexter! I'm on my way to read, Paris Trout, soon. In fact, I've already ordered the book and it will be sent to me in short order. For all the above reasons, I rate this wonderful book with the story set in the 1980s at 4.5 stars out of 5 and give it a thumbs up. I recommend that before all the used copies are snatched up that you grab one and buy it and read it for yourself.

Thank you for joining me this week as we looked at this cult favorite, God's Pocket, by Pete Dexter. I'm glad it is coming to the movies, but from what I have seen of the professional critics reviews of the movie, it isn't rated well. In fact, the metascore is only 28/100. It may be another reason for releasing it in Limited Release, first, so as to test the waters, so to speak. I hope it does well. I don't always agree with professional critics assessment of movies--perhaps you have also had this experience? In any event, we have to wait and see what happens. It would be lovely if one of Mr. Hoffman's last movies did well at the box office. ...Such a wonderful actor.

Thank you for taking time to read my review, today! Please join me again next week as we take another book into consideration for reading enjoyment and find out whether or not it is sufficiently worthy to spend your money on, pick it up, and spend your valuable time reading it. Until then, you couldn't do better than to find a copy of God's Pocket, and read it. It is relatively short, only 279 pages, and enjoyable. So, give it a try.

Until next time......many happy pages of reading!

All my love, Sharon.

[Tim O'Leary · Rating 3 out of 5]

Three weeks to read this. Ordinarily an easy read on the beach--but no. DIY projects needing to be done in advance of sweltering heat and humidity, it's been a long, drawn-out affair. Books being, then, of little use when all that remains of the last hours in a day is to crash early and hit it again the next. In fairness to a writer whose others "Paris Trout" a National Book Award winner, "Deadwood" (yes, of the cult Western-inspired HBO series but in namesake only), his self-described misfit childhood he comically relates in "Spooner," and "Train" which confirmed him as a street-wise, columnist schooled in knuckles-to-teeth colloquial mannerism and speech. Terse, raw, believable prose, a generation-removed but still a worthy throwback of sorts to the nickel pulp fiction of the 1930's, 40's and 50's--all of which led me to expect better--this being his first novel favoring a criminal element and storyteller's first-person voice of experienced observation. "God's Pocket," the tough neighborhood in Philly named after the real one "Devil's Pocket" reminded me in many ways (by no means a positive reflection) of Baltimore where having lived there for three years, can vouch for working-class, family ties across from each other entangled in densely-packed row houses--intimidation by irate sisters and big families steeped in ethnic tradition--solidarity, and belligerence, and the defense of turf; "outsiders" not being made to appreciate much "brotherly love" getting their (my own) lights punched out at a locals bar. And, worse, an episode prompted by insults for "slow play" that nearly led to multiple parties being bludgeoned while wielding a flurry of 3-irons on a pubic golf course. That ignominious night the NFL's Colts--the team that Johnny Unitas built--snuck out. Or, when in a record snow storm, their was a riot of stealing from store windows smashed in the city when police squad cars were stuck and could not intervene. Parking spots dug out from in front of row houses were "saved" using card tables and porch furniture. Signs warning that trespassers should "Beware! Don't even thinkabouddit!" Row houses. Will take mobile home parks and the risk of tornadoes in the Midwest over them, every time. Philly has the cheesesteak sandwich. Wit onions, Hon. Balimore (T not pronounced), youz got Maryland Blue Crabs (heavy on the Old Bay seasoning). That is, had them, before they were all fished-out from the Chesapeake. Twin cities, these two. And a whole lot more dangerous than Minneapolis and St. Paul. Especially at, or near, sporting events. You won't know if you don't go. But don't say you weren't warned.

[Vitani Days · Rating 3 out of 5]

Non è un brutto libro, ma non mi è piaciuto. Tanto per iniziare non condivido la scelta del traduttore di aggiungere al titolo quel "Così si muore a", che ha senso nella struttura narrativa ma non ai fini del romanzo nell'insieme. La storia effettivamente riguarda da vicino il giovane Leon e il modo accidentale in cui è morto due volte, ma più di tutti riguarda God's Pocket in sé: un quartiere-ghetto di Philadelphia, popolato di esistenze ai margini, che sopravvivono più che vivere e rischiano il cancro per il lavoro vicino alle fabbriche. Gente che si barcamena come può tra furtarelli, droga, scommesse e alcool. Molta dell'umanità di God's Pocket nasce e muore all'interno del quartiere, non vede mai un altro pezzo di mondo, e chi nel quartiere non ci è nato non potrà mai davvero farne parte. Leon, che da vivo era un attaccabrighe, da morto diventa un bravo ragazzo solo perché nato a God's Pocket. Al contrario, Mickey e il giornalista Shellburn (alter ego dello stesso Dexter) vengono ostracizzati al primo errore. God's Pocket è affare di God's Pocket, punto. E ti segna. Come accade a Bird, socio in affari di Mickey, che si perderà nelle proprie nevrosi.
Il romanzo è corale, diversi punti di vista si alternano, l'omicidio di Leon diviene il punto di partenza per la navigazione attraverso esistenze sballate, che si incrociano senza mai toccarsi per davvero, che sembrano girare attorno a se stesse alla ricerca di un senso che non esiste.
A livello stilistico l'ho trovato, a tratti, lento e confusionario. Non mi ha trasmesso granché. Ci sono, però, alcune scene incisive: come l'ultimo articolo di giornale scritto da Shellburn, quello che gli costerà la vita e il solo in cui finalmente dirà quello che davvero pensa; oppure come la sparatoria della mitica zia Sophie, uno dei pochi personaggi del libro che meritino davvero (menzione speciale anche a Smilin' Jack e al Vecchio Lucy); o ancora lo starnuto del cane - chi ha letto il libro capirà.
Apprezzabile il finale, che mostra l'incertezza di una situazione presente che potrebbe durare per sempre come aver termine l'attimo dopo.
Non credo però che leggerò altro di Dexter, questo romanzo non mi ha né particolarmente colpito né incuriosito al punto da indurmi a cercare altro dell'autore.

[Peter G · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mickey Scarpato’s twenty-something stepson Leon is a pain in his ass and basically a sociopath. One day, in an act of youthful bravado, Leon threatens the wrong guy at his job and ends up getting himself killed. In God’s Pocket, the poor working-class neighbourhood they live in, everyone suddenly thinks he’s some sort of saint. Mickey meanwhile has problems; he’s got to get together enough money to pay for the funeral, and his wife Jeanie thinks that only the best and most expensive of everything could be good enough for her son. Meanwhile, washed-up newspaper columnist Richard Shelburn has started sniffing around; first interested in a story about Leon, before becoming obsessed with the grieving widow herself.

Full disclosure: Pete Dexter is one of my favourite authors. Though this is not, in my opinion, one of the very best of his books. He turned to fiction after about a decade as a prominent columnist and this feels like his attempt to cram every quality story he’d heard in that time into a novel. Consequently, it comes across as incredibly baggy for its relatively short length. It’s as funny and touching as anything that he wrote, but it kind of jerks from scene to scene at a hectic pace without quite enough space to explore the full interest of the very colourful characters.

Dexter is a kind of no-nonsense writer who can make fairly plain language seem more profound than you’d think. He has a journalistic sense of detail. This really comes to the fore when he starts building up the feeling of the neighbourhood itself. God’s Pocket is full of characters who are all up in each other’s business but basically aware, and forgiving, of all their neighbours’ worst faults. But as characters keep reminding Mickey, “You didn’t come up around here.” Neither he nor Shelburn are from the Pocket originally and the violent, xenophobic way the community closes ranks when it feels itself threatened shows the uglier side of their social ties — ending with the condescending Shelburn getting an all too real exposure to the reality of the city he claims loves him unconditionally.

It’s a heartbreaking and tender book that still feels very rough. Later Dexter would file off the rough edges and write far better books from the same raw ingredients. Still, very much worth reading.

[Carlo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Classico libro crime a mio avviso molto ben fatto.
L'inizio della storia mi è risultato interessante e originale. Un ragazzo irrequieto, che si atteggia a criminale, inizia a lavorare in un cantiere. Ogni giorno, più volte al giorno, trova un pretesto per tirare fuori il suo coltello e raccontare questa o l'altra avventura, spesso inventata di sanapianta.
I colleghi non lo sopportano per questo atteggiamento finchè un giorno, superato oggettivamente il limite in termini di rispetto verso un collega, riceve una botta in testa e muore.
Qui si innesca una serie di eventi dovuta al fatto che i colleghi muratori cercano di far passare quella morte come un incidente, la madre del ragazzo morto non crede alla versione dei fatti che viene raccontata, alcuni giornalisti si mettono in mezzo.
Ma non è tutto, il ragazzo morto ha un patrigno che, per far contenta la madre, chiede ad altri criminali di fare alcune verifiche su questa morte, nel frattempo cerca di vendere carne rubata per finanziare il funerale del ragazzo.
In pratica, lo si capisce da queste poche parole che non sono spoiler, la situazione è parecchio complicata e interconnessa fra varie forze, e forse nessuna di queste forze sta davvero nel bene.
Questa storia infatti è permeata da God's Pocket, il quartiere dove tutto avviene, un quartiere di second'ordine, senza aspirazioni, che ospita una comunità di persone votate a un certo stile di vita, un codice che mette queste persone nella condizione di essere martiri e allo stesso tempo aguzzini del prossimo.
Narrativamente mi è sembrata interessante la tecnica usata in alcuni passaggi di descrivere due volte lo stesso avvenimento, ogni volta dal punto di vista di un personaggio diverso, per risaltare quanto uno o l'altro possano malinterpretare i reciproci comportamenti in virtù di come loro vogliono vedere le cose, di come gli fa più comodo, di quanto bisogno hanno di autoconvincersi di qualcosa o di quanto sono ubriachi.
Questa narrazione sfalsata che riprende alcune parti e poi va avanti cambiando punto di vista contribuisce a una lettura veloce e dinamica.

Apprezzato, consigliato.

[wally · Rating 3 out of 5]

just finished this one early sunday morning, 5:23 now not to put too fine a point on it. stars? 3? 4? early on, there's this wonky transition, you're reading along, say the scene is a bar, newspaper office, something, and the next line stops you dead in your tracks. whud? you space out again? what happened?

so you backtrack a few lines, read through, and there it is again, this wonky transition, you leave the bar or newspaper officer, wherever it was your were situated, and you're in bed with some woman you never saw before. or maybe you're only imagining it. i'd go back, look, get it right, but that's close.

spaces help the reader, i've seen and feel the same way. say your get this big long black mark on the page, no breaks, no white space, you get to feeling like what? like you're way out in the blue? riding on a smile and a shoeshine? going after the big ones? what? have seen it before where a writer doesn't use the ole double-space trick to set one scene off from another...or maybe that little line of asterisks. that happens late in the story, a line of asterisks. trying to think if anywhere in the story there is a double-space to set one scene off from another. i don't think so.

so, after a point, you get to thinkin well maybe that's the point, no breaks in the chain, all connected, one thing to the other. which all goes to say i take this star business serious. at least, sometimes i do. other times i just wing it. who pays attention, anyway? and it's all moot anyway as we all know a 5-star to you is a 1-star to another. and so it goes.

good read, though, nice writing by and by. this is another story where one or two of the main characters exhibit a kind of aloofness that is tangible and murky. thinkin of those photos you can see on-line, moments before tragedy happens.

guess i'll go 3-stars, i liked it. i really liked it at times but honestly i think some white space would have provided a time to consider what had gone before, before i jumped in bed with a woman i hardly know. good read.

[Jacob Rosen · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's a pleasure to read Pete Dexter: his prose is so effortlessly transparent and his images imbued with the clarity of film, it's almost as if you're living with the characters he's created--real people, ones you know. With writing talent this audacious, you might be accepting if Dexter were to write shallowly about shallow people; but, in fact, every one of his characters, plain spoken as they are, have consciousnesses that run deep and observant--the result is a novel of strange complexity and thought. His Philadelphia is a city in disrepair and its beleaguered inhabitants have become just as broken, but they're filled with a pride of place; the need to belong, to be loved and understood by those around you, is at the heart of the story, which, primarily over the course of a week, unfolds as a comedy of unfortunate errors; that it ends up a bracing tragedy of misunderstanding is an irony a former newspaperman like Dexter can't resist. (One of the characters is, in fact, a newspaperman apparently modeled after Dexter--if he is, he's far too unkind to himself--and there's an incident involving reportage later revisited in his autobiographical novel "Spooner".) Given that it was published in the early '80s, there's a lot of racial attitude that will probably force you to confront how much you're willing to forgive, but a great deal of the book is laugh out loud funny and astonishing, even as you're wrestling with the questions of self Dexter keeps returning to. Like most of Dexter's works, it's a masterpiece of time and place in America.

[Jim Brennan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Philadelphia is known as the city of neighborhoods, and Devil’s Pocket, a gritty section of South Philly, is the subject of Pete Dexter’s God’s Pocket. Actually, it could be a neighborhood in any large metropolis, but Dexter nails it—the slang, idioms, landmarks, bars, local beers, references, even in the mob wars of the 1980s, notably the murder of mob boss Angelo Bruno shot to death in a car outside his residence on Snyder Avenue, and Philip “Chicken Man” Testa, blown up by a nail bomb in the early morning hours on his front porch. And Dexter tells the story with the authority of a Daily News reporter for more than a decade. Every absurd encounter is believable to the lifelong city resident, so when a young construction worker is killed by a coworker and covered up as an industrial accident, it’s not a far stretch that his body flies out the back of a refrigerated truck five days later in an accident with a bus and reported by a practitioner of New Journalism as being killed twice. The inquisitive reader who cares to research the author’s life won’t be able to stop turning the pages as the novel unwinds in a remarkably close retelling of his own story.

[Ned Andrew Solomon · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have now read 5 books by Pete Dexter - the novels Paris Trout, Train, The Paperboy, the non-fiction Paper Trails, and now his first novel, God's Pocket. I have appreciated every one of them, but this may be my favorite. The book takes turns focusing on a fascinating and diverse set of characters, and his brilliant prose changes and perfectly picks up the quirks and cadences of each distinct personality.

The first half is hysterically funny, as we are introduced to each of the character's foibles and the convoluted messes they all seem to fall into without anyone else's help. Unlike any of the other Dexter books I've read so far, God's Pocket could have been written by Carl Hiaasen, though it never quite gets as deliriously ridiculous. And as the multiple plots progress, thicken and converge, the humor drops back - though never leaves entirely - and is replaced by more grit and poignancy.

It's about family, change, belonging, trust, choices, journalism, morality and much more. It was a complete joy to read.