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James ParkerLike Bellow's Henderson the Rain King, with whom he shares certain comic energies and proportions, Cleaver is a mammoth ego in relief, dethroned and in a new landscape. His mind surges: the novel is a tour de force of interior monologue, slipping between tenses and locations to the rhythm of Cleaver's great grievance…Cleaver, Parks's seventh novel, is a work of dense artistry and passionate intelligence. It is also extremely funny.
—The New York Times