Darkness, Take My Hand– a Review of the Detective Story/Murder Mystery by Dennis Lehane

I recently read and reviewed several books by Dennis Lehane, and, as part of the discussion, I referred to Lehane's outstanding and powerful Mystic River. With one slight bump in the road, I found my appreciation for these books growing rapidly. Darkness, Take My Hand (DTMH) is one of two extremely satisfying books I've enjoyed in the past week, courtesy of Mr. Lehane (one more review is in the works).

In DTMH, Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro team up once again as private detectives working their old neighborhood of Dorchester, Massachusetts, and any other parts of the Boston area that their cases call for. The chemistry between these childhood friends is consistently engaging, perhaps in part because their lives remain a confused tangle of old love and restrained desire.

This particular tale starts out with a brief childhood memory: we see Kenzie and his abusive, fireman father sharing some “quality time” at the scene of a fire, a memory that haunts Kenzie decades later. Then comes the Prologue to DTMH, where we find Kenzie, alone, on a Christmas Eve. The doors to the Kenzie-Gennaro agency are shut, forever, and Angie is nowhere to be found.

Kenzie is, in fact, very much alone, mostly abandoned by his friends and seemingly without work, uncharacteristically spending his time watching the news on TV, taking in the latest tragedies like the rest of the city, doing little or nothing beyond feeling depressed, feeling considerable pain, and wondering why life had gone off the rails. How did this crisis come to pass? What is the origin of this particular pain he feels? The key to the answers unfolds as reminiscences begin and we go back in time, to the start of Kenzie's trouble.

What we find is a complex story, full of misdirection, full of tragedy, full of horror and full of guilt. It is a story that starts in a near-contemporary setting and also ends near the present, but which connects to the distant past in unusual, sad and frightful ways.

From a reader’s perspective, the large cast of characters and the nonlinear, practically exponential way in which the truth unfolds are no cause for concern– this is a very tightly written, brilliantly plotted book. There is no bloat, and, though we read of horrific crimes that multiply and proliferate, the story has its feet on the ground: there is no reason to suspend much disbelief in order to forge ahead through Lehane’s masterpiece.

In some crime fiction which will remain unidentified, I am truly annoyed by the way that an outstanding cast, developed and painted with realism, ends up confronting a villain of comic book proportions. I find myself reading such novels to keep up with the fascinating or appealing main characters and their lives, but without much interest in what we might call “the evil genius of the month. In DTMH, there are no such problems. The increasingly familiar main characters, and the new characters we meet along the way, inhabit a world that is not our world, but it feels like all it might take is a little bad luck to bring us to the office of Kenzie-Gennaro Investigations, asking for help.

The bad guys we meet in DTMH, the worse guys, and the worst guys of all, have all grown organically from the mean streets of small, homogeneous, closed communities that appear like satellites, or something less celestial, around big cities. The innocent victims that we come across have grown up in these same places, as have those who long since shed their innocence, making whatever peace they can with the lines they constantly cross.

In DTMH, we find out a lot about crossing the lines of normal, decent and lawful behavior: how frequent the transgressions are for some, who can manage to transgress under duress, who enjoys it and seeks out transgression, who can’t cross the lines at all, and who can’t live with themselves after taking steps, even necessary steps, that leave the boundaries of humanity behind.

You'll want to know how the characters fair as they tour the different levels of Hell, willingly or not, that DTMH provides. The guide for these tours is neither the Moon and St. Christopher nor Cicero, though these thoughts started me musing and free associating on Mary Chapin Carpenter, Dante, Virgil, The Band, and Virgil Caine for some reason (relevant musical/cultural references given below). Perhaps Mr. Lehane's excellent use of music and musical tastes as both backdrops to his stories and a way of sorting the wheat from the chaff amongst characters started me off on these tangents. Perhaps it was his stealth use of classical themes as old as Western Civilization, if not older. Probably (c), "all of the above".

Shooting Straight in the Dark Mary Chapin Carpenter- a great album. The Moon and St. Christopher is not a song to miss.

Selected Works (Penguin Classics) Cicero, orator and statesman

The Inferno No comment needed

The Aeneid (Penguin Classics) Some of what Virgil did before he showed up in the Inferno

Rock of Ages The Band sings of Virgil Caine (live)

The Band The Band in the Studio with Virgil Caine

Technorati Tags:books, blog, Dennis Lehane, darkness, take my hand, kenzie, gennaro, boston, south boston, dorchester, crime fiction, detective stories, murder, revenge, serial killer. classical themes, mary chapin carpenter, the band, virgil, cicero, virgil caine, the night they drove old dixie down
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Death in Spain, Murder and Race Relations in Boston and Philadelphia- Part 2

A Drink Before the War (ADBTW) is a tale of dirty politicians, drug wars, race relations (good and bad), and private eyes who operate outside the law with impunity. Add to this an unhealthy dose of behavior right out of a Greek play by Aeschylus and you have enough ammunition for a high-energy, high body count thriller. However, author Dennis Lehane doesn't stop there in his first novel about private detectives Angie Gennaro and Patrick Kenzie. He takes on the problem of battered spouses, and he adds the baggage of growing up in a neighborhood where "hood" is the operative word, and the criminal in question may well be your Dad.

The good guys, the bad guys and the men, women and children who straddle the moral line come mostly from Irish, Italian, and African American ethnic groups that dominate various Boston neighborhoods. There is no correlation between socioeconomic status and moral character, though the poor and homeless beat the Statehouse crowd hands down when it comes to true character.

So, what is different about this book from all similar crime novels? The book differs in the way it addresses issues of race and class, head on, and pulls no punches. Some of the book touches raw nerves, but it does so by providing dialog and scenes that authentically portray how some black and white friends (and enemies) would discuss and argue and fight and make truces, or not make truces, depending on how far things had gone. Of course, this means that the book doesn't offer us any easy answers, or any answers at all, but with many of these issues, a whole a lot talking needs to go on before it will be possible for communities to agree on answers. ADBTW adds to the dialog and doesn't exploit the characters.

One additional subplot that rings true is the way that Kenzie, who has been in love with Gennaro since childhood, constantly subjects her to sexual harassment in the course of their professional partnership while simultaneously acting as avenging angel towards Gennaro's wife-beating husband. Patrick Kenzie isn't perfect, and he isn't a saint, and he still hangs out with old friends who are serious criminals, and he can barely control himself when it comes to Angie, and he doesn't have pat answers to serious problems facing society. On the other hand, with any matter not involving Angie, he does know right from wrong, if right and wrong can actually be identified. In this book, as in life, just identifying the right course of action can be difficult, and following it can cause considerable anguish, offering no reason for celebration once the final step is taken.

James K. Bashkin

Technorati Tags:a drink before the war, devil's corner, the flanders panel, crime fiction, literature, fiction, spain, chess, murder, race relations, boston, south boston, philadelphia, dennis lehane, arturo perez-reverte, lisa scottoline
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Death in Spain, Murder and Race Relations in Boston and Philadelphia- Part 1

I very recently read The Flanders Panel (TPF) by Arturo Perez-Reverte, A Drink Before the War (ADBTW) by Dennis Lehane and Devil's Corner (DC) by Lisa Scottoline (which I had read once before). On the surface, these books have very little in common. TPF is a literary thriller and murder mystery that spans 500 years, involves the game of chess and revolves around a Flemish painting being restored by a young woman in contemporary Spain. ADBTW marks the gritty debut of Patrick Kenzie and Angie Gennaro, a team of private detectives from a working-class South Boston background who have stayed close to their roots. DC is a legal thriller about an upper-class Assistant U.S. Attorney who rolls up her sleeves to solve a murder in her father's old neighborhood; it has neither literary nor gritty pretensions, but offers an effective and entertaining story.

In spite of the genre differences, there are some threads that link the books, however. I read (actually re-read) DC because I needed a break from grittiness, and because I was frustrated that I couldn't remember the final twist to the plot. Vicki Allegretti is another Italian-American, Roman Catholic attorney from the Scottoline stable that numbers 12 or more novels. While the Scottoline protagonists are all women, they vary in a number of ways- some are working class, but Vicki grew up with all the advantages of a gated community, an Ivy League education and meddlesome parents who are both lawyers. The book offers a sober look at inner-city Philadelphia by reproducing transcripts from drug trials at the start of each major section. We read on the book's first page from the testimony of a someone who started dealing crack cocaine at age 13. The story itself opens with a nightmare of a night for Vicki: while trying to meet with a confidential informant (CI), Vicki walks in on an apparent robbery. Her colleague, an ATF agent, is killed and so is the CI.

Although this would seem to be a high-profile case, the outbreak of a (related) drug war pulls law enforcement resources in other directions and Vicki decides to investigate on her own. Vicki eventually forms a shaky alliance with the woman, Reheema Bristow, whom she was trying to prosecute, a young black woman who had supposedly bought firearms and then resold them to a criminal. The relationship between Vicki and Reheema starts off about as badly as possible. Not only does Vicki hold Reheema in custody (for a short while) after her only evidence died along with the CI, Vicki is so upset about the death of her partner Morty that she assaults Bristow in the Federal Building, with a public defender present.

Things get interesting when Vicki looks for Reheema's mother, trying to dig for facts about Reheema, and finds that the older Bristow is a drug addict living in the neighborhood where Vicki's father grew up, the tough streets of Devil's Corner. Snooping in the Bristow house and unaware that Reheema's mother has run of with her purse and cell phone, Vicki is surprised to find medals and photos of Raheema's career as a track athlete, supported by her mother, who poses with the team in one snapshot. Mrs. Bristow ends up being murdered that very night, and as Vicki continues to snoop, Reheema confronts her with a loaded gun. Antagonistic, but both wanting justice for Raheema's mother, the two young women slowly form a truce and then an alliance to investigate exactly what the heck is going on and why the police aren't following up on the cases. As the story progresses, the question of how this promising black schoolgirl and athlete became a tough criminal metamorphoses into the question, "Did she ever become a criminal?"

"Devils Corner" encompasses the subjects of decaying neighborhoods, police neglect, political corruption, the drug trade, the utter lack of regard for life that is found in sociopaths who inhabit all "classes" of society, and manages to toss in a love interest for Vicki that she sublimates by getter deeper and deeper into the mystery in a way that only Raheema's help could allow.

Needless to say, this book would not be mistaken for a Dennis Lehane novel or the script for an episode of The Wire. It treats difficult subjects head on, and with considerable detail, but the perspective and tone remain unashamedly rose-tinted under all but the worst of circumstances. Ms. Scottoline doesn't write to expose the rawest nerve endings of a city's lawless drug culture, but she does draw attention to serious problems, including race relations, while telling a good story. So, good for her. Some mornings I just don't feel like waking up to the booze-laden bad breath of Harry Bosch or John Rebus. Some nights I just don't feel like reading about the details of an evisceration, an autopsy or a the last living moments of some unfortunate victim of violent crime. Of course, the people who live out on the street don't get to choose where and when they encounter ugliness and depravity, so I'm very lucky. Nevertheless, only about 2% of my reading solution consists of books like DC.

ADBTW reminded me straight away, before I'd even opened the book, of When the Sacred Ginmill Closes, the early Matthew Scudder mystery by Lawrence Block, whose title is taken from the Dave Van Ronk song Last Call. At first, I mistakenly remembered the song title as "Closing Time". I liked that book so much that I spent about 5 years trying to find the van Ronk tune on CD (Going Back to Brooklyn). The CD was re-released in 2006, and when I finally played Van Ronk's tune, I was not disappointed. Unfortunately, the CD is so unremittingly bawdy that I didn't feel comfortable putting in on when my kids were around (and I still don't- they are 13 and 15). Anyway, do give Dave a listen- he combines jazz, blues, ragtime and folk, and sings in a way that a real Dylan fan can appreciate, but with wider appeal as well.

OK, back to an unremitting murder and mayhem. As you may have read, I had mixed feelings about Gone, Baby, Gone, the recent paperback volume in the Kenzie/Gennaro series. However, I felt the language and tone were excellent, it was the plot that just didn't ring true at the end. However, ADBTW stunned me: this book is a must read.

James K. Bashkin

Technorati Tags:a drink before the war, devil's corner, the flanders panel, crime fiction, literature, fiction, spain, chess, murder, race relations, boston, south boston, philadelphia, dennis lehane, arturo perez-reverte, lisa scottoline
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Evil on the loose in Boston, Southie, Dorchester, Charlestown

Well, I just finished my first book in a while and it isn't one of those I said I was reading. I was reading them, and still am. I've mainly been writing and reading for my environmental blog. I just took a detour into crime fiction as a breather. Boy, was that relaxing.

So, I read Gone Baby Gone (GBG) by Dennis Lehane. Why I spelled Mr. Lehane's name wrong at first, I have no idea, but my apologies for the extra "n". I guess this is one of the dangers of blogging/proofreading late at night. On the other hand, I know I have corrected the spelling of "the" (from "teh") at least four times in the same spot on this page, and the typo keeps coming back! I probably need to collaborate with a professional. See Peter and Frances for examples of how a blog should be written.

Back to the book, Gone, Baby, Gone (Harper Fiction): yes, I'm the guy who typically can't handle books about kids as victims. So, maybe this wasn't a great choice. It starts with the disappearance of a child, and several more children disappear in the course of the story.

I had already read Mystic River, which I thought was excellent, though emotionally draining to the point where I had no desire to see the movie and go through it all over again. I was impressed with the writing then and still was with GBG.

Still, I can't say that GBG really worked for me as a complete book. It was like a rock song or classical music piece with many false endings that picked up again with a new theme just when I thought it was time for intermission (cheese cake and coffee in St. Louis at the symphony, beer at the rock concerts). I can be completely engrossed by conspiracies (take my loyalty and fascination with the TV show Damages, or the million or so espionage books I've read), but here, in GBG, the confluence of events and a profusion of parallel but largely unrelated plots, ones that linked up only from time to time, required too much of a stretch for me to be comfortable. I enjoyed the characters and the language very much, though I didn't find the ending "in character", the ending where Patrick, who has allowed himself to be judge and executioner in the past, suddenly has to follow "the book" and the law because he can't judge.

One odd coincidence (of the type I wasn't buying in the book) is that I was going through my digital photos of family trips and I had a bunch of photos of the exact area where much of the story took place (though from a distance). So I've added some of those here- Charlestown naval yard, Bunker Hill monument, and what used to be a legitimate part of Southie (I think), before warehouses were razed and the new convention center was built. It all looks so harmless it the mid-day, summer sunlight. Who'd have thought ...

© James K. Bashkin, 2007

Pictures by James K. Bashkin, some rights reserved, used by the photographer:

Technorati Tags:crime fiction, dennis lehane, boston, southie, south boston, charlestown, boston waterfront, uss constitution, bunker hill monument
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