Wordy Old Men on Boardwalk Empire: Season Four, Episode Two "Resignation"

This week, chickens come home to roost at The Onyx Club, Nucky prepares to become a Rays fan, Eddie Kessler steps up to the plate, and we find out that Nucky has two new potential threats.

Old Man Duggan: Well, the handful of things that were left unclear last week were made a little more clear this week. While I liked last week's episode well enough, it did seem like something was missing. With the stage having been set, Howard Korder and Dennis Lehane got to play around in this rich world this week. Now last week we didn't quite get around to talking about this last week, but Lehane has been brought on as a Consulting Producer [for those who may not know this, Consulting Producers typically have a little more input than a regular [writer-]Producer does, but obviously doesn't have the authority that the Executive Producers and showrunner would have] this year, which for me is a big deal. Given the subject matter and setting in his last book, Live By Night, and where Nucky is heading, I'm goddamn giddy. Even if the rumored Lehane/Pelecanos series gets picked up by HBO, this could be a great season. Pelecanos has also been brought on this season, but just as a writer.

Wordy Ginters: Stellar writing stable. I believe Pelecanos worked on both The Wire and Treme, Regardless, as a crime fiction fan, I share your giddiness. Lehane is a contemporary giant of the genre. This is where HBO has the edge on other TV serial dramas. Top shelf on everything from the writing to the cinematography to the acting.

OMD: Yes, Pelecanos was a scribe on The Wire and Treme. I do wonder if he was a bigger name if he, too, would be a Consulting Producer.

Onto this week's business: This week's big winner was Eddie. "Mr. Thompson is part of everything. He is in the sky and sea. He's in the dreams of children at night. He is all that there is. Forever." The look of revelation on Nucky's face when he delivers that screed is fucking priceless. I loved him coming to Nucky imploring that he entrust him with more responsibility. Respect. Seriously, this was a great episode for Anthony Laciura to work his chops a bit.

WG: I thought Eddie was riffing on Maggie Gyllenhaal from Secretary in that first scene. Poaching the eggs a little too long. Spilling the coffee. Dissing Nucky’s delicate undergarments. The petulance indicated he wanted something, but I didn’t know exactly what. It will be fun to see him establish a beachhead in Florida. Eddie blotting the coffee stain reminded me of the “stain blotting” from my favorite video by The Oh Sees, “Lupine Dominus.”

OMD: I guess we know what Harrow was up to. Gun for hire in a Strangers on a Train scenario. How long until an old man hazards death crawling underneath an out-of-control carousel?

WG:  Sooner that we think. A dog-eared copy of The Chessmen from Mars playing the role of lighter.

OMD: And while we're on the subject of Harrow, my money is on him not being done killing quite yet, seeing as though Carl Billings's old partner ended up with his brains dripping down the walls of his office. What sort of shit was this guy into? Gun underneath his jacket. Gun in the desk. Multiple men wanting to make sure you're taking a dirt nap. I can't help but wonder where this is taking Harrow's story. Seeing as though his business was in Milwaukee, I'm guessing he has to turn people into sausage. Sidenote: I'll be damned if the husband and father of two daughters dead in his office the second time around didn't look like he had to have been Jim Beaver's brother.

Ellsworth's kin are in Milwaukee?

WG: Brother of Ellsworth. I was getting a John Malkovich vibe. I read a pre-season interview with Terence Winter, and he specifically mentioned that Harrow’s early episode activities were intentionally vague. I want to know why sis walks with a limp, and what happened to her beloved Gerald. Could they be more stoic? No. None more stoic. Does Harrow’s obvious affection for Sampson lend weight to the great scene from Season Two episode “Gimcrack and Bunkum,” when Harrow was basically saved from suicide by a Sampson look alike mutt who stole his face plate? Let me answer that for you: Hell yes.

OMD: Good catch on the call-back.

I liked how they played with Agent Knox's angles this episode. Given his willingness to see Agent Sawicki offed and his lack of concern afterwards, I doubt we've seen the last reveal as to what Knox is actually up to. Regardless, enter J. Edgar into the mix. I'm going to be a bit upset if we don't see him in a dress by season's end. Unfortunately, however this plays out, it seems that we might end up seeing Eli in the clink when next season opens in 1925. Are we to believe that Gaston Means doesn't actually know what Knox is up to, or is he playing a different angle?

WG: Means is fantastic. Who knows how that crooked puppeteer will queer things? As long as he gives play-by-play in that syrupy everywhere-but-nowhere Janus-faced dialect, I’m on board. I also look forward to seeing J. Edgar and Knox hoofing it to some Gershwin. Knox is an interesting character. I’m a sucker for the faux-rube put on. Reminds me of Lou Ford from The Killer Inside Me.

OMD: Silent Cal shit-canned Daugherty. An Amherst classmate of Coolidge's Harlan F. Stone is his replacement, and as Treasury Agent Elliot found out in a closed-door meeting, now there's a Bureau of Investigation. Stone takes a seat on the Supreme Court in 1925, so I guess we'll see if he pops up.

WG: Has to be a challenge for Winter to deal with source material ripped from the history books. He hews closer to the spirit of things more than details. I’m not a huge historical fiction fan, but when you dig into legendary gangsters like Capone, the Prohibition Era, and figures like Rothstein and J. Edgar Hoover, I’m on board.

OMD: Dr. Valentin Narcisse. This wacky Trinidadian seems interesting. Libyans. Nordic tribe. Perhaps purity obsessed. I, for one, am very glad that Alma Pastor was taken care of. What an unconvincing tale of fictitious rape. Nucky was not buying it for a second. Narcisse apparently wasn't either, although I guess it wouldn't have mattered if he did or didn't. I suppose it was best that she was left where she was, if for no other reason than for Nucky and Chalky to know that episode was behind him. I'm sure Bader is none too pleased.

Winston

WG: Dr. Valentin Narcisse is straight out of a Tea Party fever dream. You can imagine him surrounding voting precincts in the suburbs with militant-looking jazz musicians and tap dancers. Isn’t he played by the same dude who set up Bill Murray’s logistics in Broken Flowers? As soon as they dumped Alma, he dropped a sweet Ethiopian Afro-Beat jazz mix-tape into the stereo for the ride back to NYC. I like him because he plays against stereotypes a little bit. The Capone family comes off a little too Mario Brothers for my liking. O’Banion has a facet or two. Early results indicate Narcisse lacks the unpredictably predictable volcano rage of past heels like my man Gyp, but in some indistinct way, he comes off far more powerful and creepy.

OMD: Jeffrey Wright was, in fact, Winston in Broken Flowers. On assumes that Jarmusch was unable to get Ernie Hudson to reprise the role.

Between Narcisse, Knox, and to presumably a lesser degree Hoover, this season should have some interesting forces pushing against Nucky. I wish I didn't have to wait a week to see what happens.

WG: I also bait with waited breath.

Reading Rainbow: Moonlight Mile by Dennis Lehane

After an eleven-year hiatus, our old friends Patrick Kenzie and Angie Kenzie (née Gennaro) are back, having last been seen patching things up in Dennis Lehane's 1999 novel Prayers for Rain. While the fifth novel in the series was integral in that it saw the two patch things up, Moonlight Mile--taking its name from what might be my favorite Stones tune--ties in much more to the best-known book in the series, Gone, Baby, Gone [commas dropped in the Affleck-directed film adaptation], as it follows up with Amanda McCready twelve years after she was returned to her woefully neglectful mother, Helene.

Unlike the rest of the novels in the series, Gone, Baby, Gone had plenty of room for a proper sequel, and given the opportunity to explore the ramifications of Patrick's choice at the end of that novel, the ground for a thematically interesting book is fertile. Thankfully (and predictably), Lehane does not disappoint, having the consequences of Patrick's actions a dozen years prior wreak havoc throughout the book.

What transpires is a mesmerizing exploration into the far-reaching consequences of a single act, one made in a no-win situation, and it is delivered by one of the most enthralling voices out there. Lehane's books are ones that get their claws in you and don't let you go until you've devoured them and are left still wanting more. Moonlight Mile is another in a long line of dark page-turners, that despite their best-seller status and focus on crime never quite feel low or pulpy. That isn't to say that pulp is bad, but somehow Lehane seems to transcend the mystery/crime genre, existing in a world all his own.

Or perhaps I'm trying to validate a genre that I really don't think needs validation, as I'd much rather read Lehane or Chandler or Cain or Jim Thompson than James Joyce.

Regardless, Moonlight Mile is a worthy [apparent] conclusion to the saga that is Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro's arc, the only book series I have read from front-to-back in at least a decade, and probably the only one I'd recommend to everyone out there.

Reading Rainbow: Prayers for Rain by Dennis Lehane

Having just about completely caught up here, this is the last remaining Reading Rainbow entry in the backlog. Two movies and the baseball-related jam-up will have been remedied. 

Prayers for Rain is the fifth--and up until a year ago (when the series was surprisingly revisited in Moonlight Mile) the final--book in the Kenzie-Gennaro Series. Working solo after the fallout following the completion of the Amanda MacCready case (in Gone, Baby, Gone), Patrick Kenzie finds himself wrought with guilt after he fails to answer a call from a former client only to have that client turn up dead. As he looks into her demise, he sees that not only had he not actually solved her previous stalker case, but that she had actually been targeted by a sociopath deadset on destroying her. 

As Patrick delves further into the ruthless, calculated, and systematic dismantling of Karen Nichols's life, the man responsible for her demise turns his focus to Patrick. 

As is always the case, Lehane combines his snappy dialogue, taut pacing, and disturbing ability to create truly horrifying villains to great effect in Prayers for Rain. He also sets Patrick Kenzie afloat on a raft with only the deranged but reliable Bubba Rogowski at his side. It isn't until she is absolutely needed that Angie Gennaro comes back to help Patrick. While it is their dynamic that sets the series apart, their separation at the novel's open is vital and gives insight as to what each of them means to the other. From cover to cover, there is no slowing down. The action, suspense, and intrigue is unfurled at a fever pitch. With Lehane, this may be par for the course, but only because the bar has been set so high.

Reading Rainbow: Gone, Baby, Gone by Dennis Lehane

The fourth in the Kenzie/Gennaro series, this is obviously the most famous of the now six books in the series. There is one obvious reason for this: Ben Affleck chose to adapt it for his 2007 directorial debut. As you can imagine, I have seen the film adaptation, which makes this read a weird one, as I do not tend to read a book if I have seen the movie. Hell, up until the past few years, it was rare for me to have read anything that had been adapted into a film even after the fact--then I took a shit on my high-brow reading tendencies...

Anyway...

I had always intended to just skip this. Then Moonlight Mile came out. Since it is basically a follow-up to the case in Gone, Baby, Gone, I no longer felt like I could skip it while still reading the signed copy of his newest novel that I picked up.

Just about everyone who comes here regularly has probably seen the film adaptation. I will not say that the film is better. It isn't necessarily worse either. The more interesting aspects of the comparison between the two really lied in the choices that Ben Affleck had to make to trim a 400-page (in the pocket paperback copy I have) novel into a two-hour movie. Some characters were absorbed into others. The scene at the house when they finally find Amanda McCready is actually better with the onus for the decision lying totally on Patrick Kenzie's shoulders. There are smaller sections of the book that are basically rolled into others. All of the choices make sense insofar as being able to tell a cohesive story in a shorter time-frame.

Now that isn't to say that you need not read the book. If you haven't seen the movie, the book is definitely the way to go. Lehane's prose is rock-solid as always. He has the neo-noir genre down pat and owns every word. Really, you shouldn't need an excuse to read Dennis Lehane.

Despite the fact that both Bubba Rogowski and Patrick would disapprove: here you go:

Man on Film: Shutter Island

Apologies all, I really did see this roughly when I said I was going to but have been unable to get around to this until now.

Now as frequent Pricksters are aware, I actually read the book earlier in the week, so I came at this from a personally unusual standpoint. It is very rare that I actually read books that are adapted into films. I can safely say I have never read the book within a period of time in which most of my memories of the book are anything more than vague recollections of something that may have happened.

This was not the case here, obviously.

It is probably best to first touch on my feelings about the film independent of how it compared to the book.

In Shutter Island, Martin Scorsese has crafted an impressive technical film. Much like in Gangs of New York, the sets are fantastic, especially Ward C, which looks fantastic. His vision of Shutter Island and the Ashecliffe Hospital for the Criminally Insane is absolutely fully realized. Robert Richardson's cinematography (aside from the storm scene in the cemetery) is also magnificent, and these two elements combine to make a beautiful film. Then there is the cast consisting of Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo, Ben Kingsley, Ted Levine, Emily Mortimer, Jackie Earle Haley, Patricia Clarkson, and more, all of whom predictably hit all of their marks. DiCaprio makes you wish that he only worked with Scorsese (or at least not ever with Ed Zwick). Ruffalo is perfect as usual.

Now, if you haven't read the book or seen the film, I would highly suggest that you not read any further. There will be SPOILERS ahead...

You have been warned.

As far as the narrative is concerned, Scorsese's Shutter Island is definitely lacking in comparison to Lehane's Shutter Island. Much of the thrust of this narrative is fueled by the seeds of doubt that are gradually planted regarding our protagonist's sanity. Unfortunately for the audience, just about any and all suspense is absent in this film is gone. Yes, one is driven to wonder what is going on to a certain extent, but the clues a dropped on the audience with the subtlety of an anvil. The perspective of Teddy Daniels is not adequately solidified as sane to then be undermined. Without that turnabout, the twist is not a twist; it's just a wrinkle.

And this is where the book plays better than the film. Lehane diligently goes about forging a bond between Teddy and his new partner Chuck. He imbues Chuck with a magnetic personality and traits plausible in a Marshal. He fleshes out Teddy's backstory, fills it with detail after detail that makes him seem more like a man and not an alterego. He adds more layers to the conspiracy, but layers that lend credence to Teddy's quest.

In the film, there is no laying of groundwork. Teddy's story and mission lacks the credibility that it has in the novel. Without that foundation, the structure of the film is a lot more fragile, the reveals are foretold in neon, and the twist is telegraphed. The instant Dr. Sheehan is said to have gone on vacation the audience knows what is really going on. Once that load-bearing card in this precarious house of cards is removed, the entire house comes crashing down.

It isn't that Scorsese's Shutter Island is bad. It is visually arresting and impeccably cast, but the screenplay is lacking something fierce in the way of subterfuge, and the narrative is lacking as a result.

Man on Film: Affleck News

My apologies for not quite getting around to the Shutter Island film review as I had intended. I was initially planning on seeing it Thursday night at an advance screening, but life got in the way. I didn't end up seeing it until Sunday, and I've been working on another gargantuan column for Sports Grumblings about the teams that ESPN forgot exists. I fully anticipate getting to that write-up as soon as Thursday night, after which I have a queue of things I need to cover ranging from another Tim O'Brien-related Reading Rainbow entry, the newest season of "Friday Night Lights," and my first foray into the works of Jonathan Lethem.

Since I've not got the time at present to complete those tasks and more (namely, more Munch My Benson content), I did feel I should stop in and drop some ka-nowledge on y'all. To longtime readers this will come as no surprise, but your faithful Inconsiderate Prick is what could mildly be called a "big fan" of Ben Affleck. In recent years, he has made good on my consistent defense of him through trying times by being fantastic in such films as Hollywoodland, State of Play, and Extract, while also stepping behind the lens (figuratively) to give us the superb Dennis Lehane adaptation, Gone Baby Gone.

Coming out later this year (tentative release date of September 10th), we will get to see Affleck's directorial follow-up to Gone Baby Gone: The Town, another crime drama which will feature Blake Lively, Jeremy Renner, Jon Hamm, Chris Cooper, and the inimitable Ben Affleck.

Now while nothing about the above (and it's adapted from a Chuck Hogan novel, 2004 Hammett Prize Winner Prince of Thieves) doesn't get my hopes up insanely, what is perhaps even better news is that the infamous wife-trading* story of former Yankees' teammates Fritz Peterson and Mike Kekich, The Trade. More details on the film can be found here and here, but the script was written by former "Seinfeld" and "Curb Your Enthusiasm" scribe Dave Mandel.

*I hesitate to use the term wife-swap as theirs was a full-on trading of each others wives, on a permanent basis.

The first time I heard this story, which I think I first read about here, I thought, "Holy shit is that weird." When you think that about a true story, you can't help but think it would make a sweet-ass movie. Seriously, read that last link, and tell me you don't want a Red Sox fan making (and allegedly co-starring in it with friend, Matt Damon) that film?

Thank you, Benjamin Geza Affleck, for rewarding my loyalty with your greatness.

Reading Rainbow: Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane

While I've fallen a little behind on the Reading Rainbow installments, that doesn't mean I've been lax in the reading. It's been quite the opposite. In fact, after accidentally leaving my bag with the Jonathan Lethem book I was working through (was my subconscious working for me), I took the opportunity to run out to BookPeople and pick up Shutter Island in the thought that maybe I could finish it before the film was released Friday. Well, with a 50-page jump on things, I read the rest of the book on Tuesday.

Seeing as though I typically don't effortlessly breeze through 320 pages in a day, this is saying something.

In the most basic sense, Shutter Island is page-turner. Upon diving in, you have already burned through to the end by the time you've had a chance to come up for breath. Lehane's prose is filled with verve and tenacity, and his dialogue seems to flow effortlessly from his pen, the words ascribed to each character always ringing true.

In his first foray outside of the contemporary crime novel (this was the last novel he wrote before The Given Day), Lehane crafted a mind-bending psychological thriller that leaves you breathless. As two U.S. Marshals are brought to Shutter Island to investigate the disappearance of a prisoner/patient at the Ashecliffe Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Marshals Teddy Daniels and Chuck Aule are cut off from the outside world by a violent hurricane that is bearing down on the island.

On their own and operating under the watchful eye of the prison and clinical staff, Daniels and Aule begin to uncover an unseemly operation ranging from unethical and inhumane experimentation and surgeries to CIA shadow ops. All the while, Daniels is there secretly on a mission to find the man who set his apartment building on fire and killed his wife in the fire.

As they delve deeper and deeper into their investigation, everything you feel like you know becomes more and more hazy, and nothing is above question. Lehane masterfully toys with perspective and assumption, and by the end of this taut thriller he leaves the reader stunned.

There is not a wasted word in this novel, and it is a rapturous look into the psyche of a man on a mission to stick to his duty while also trying to delicately balance a quest for his wife's killer. Sitting down to read it, you will come to its conclusion before you even realize that any time has passed, and I suppose that is one of the greatest things that could be said about a read.

Reading Rainbow: The Given Day by Dennis Lehane

This looks to be a very Lehane-y week here at Inconsiderate Prick. With a 50-page head start, I read the last 320 pages of Shutter Island yesterday for which you can be expecting an entry tomorrow. Obviously, there is also a little movie by the same name that will be coming out Friday. I fully anticipate taking it in on Friday, if not sooner. And then there is what, to this point, can only be deemed his magnum opus--The Given Day.

Set against the backdrop of Boston as The Great War has just come to an end, America is in the throes of drastic change. It kicks off with a 30-page prologue following Babe Ruth between World Series games as he de-boards a stopped Chicago-to-Boston train and joins in on an all-black game. As the game goes on, the white players from the train mosey on toward the field, inevitably corrupting what had initially been an innocent game, cheating and eventually getting Ruth to side with them. Ruth's guilt from that day follows him throughout the book, as he pops up intermittently at times of transition.

The scope of this book doesn't stop at the mere inclusion of Babe Ruth at the time of he begins to capture the imagination of the American public and revolutionizes its pastime. Within its pages, Lehane ties in the Spanish Influenza pandemic, the Boston Police Strike of 1919, anarchist plots of terrorism, union battles, a young J. Edgar Hoover, then-Governor Calvin Coolidge, and the racial tension running through much of Lehane's work. What is perhaps most impressive is not necessarily the scope of what Lehane has chosen to take on but the deftness with which he accomplishes the task. There is a lot going on here, as there was a lot going on in Boston at the time, and the ease with which Lehane takes the reader along for the dual-protagonist ride is admirable.

As always, Lehane's prose flows effortlessly. Despite its 700+ pages, the book's length never feels daunting. Instead, as the book draws to its close, you can't help but wish there was more, as you've grown to care for these characters. The turmoil Luther and Danny endure and the bond they form endears them to you. Their struggles as representatives of the common man against the imposing oppositional forces cannot help but draw the reader's sympathy. Their attempts to live by a moral code while embattled against the morally bankrupt when there is an easier path is intensely compelling.

In short, Dennis Lehane has crafted a 700 page piece of historical fiction that flies by and actually leaves you wanting more, which is no small feat. The Given Day is an effortless read while not at all light. It deals with racism, morality, class struggles, terrorism, pandemics, murder, and riots yet never leaves you weary.

Reading Rainbow: The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson

It occurs to me that I have my work cut out for me if I am to catch up on this blog. I've done a fair amount of reading, some TV to write about, and some movies that I've seen, and there hasn't been an installment of Rediscovering the Past in quite some time, so be expecting one of those. So despite the less than timeliness of this post, as the book is ancient and I finished it about a month ago now, I'm going to jump right in and give a quick reflection on the reading experience that was The Rum Diary.

This was the first time that I've actually ventured into the works of Hunter S. Thompson. I was immediately taken by how immensely readable it was. I had the misguided preconception that it would have been more difficult as a result of his historic substance [ab]use. Concerns were quickly alleviated, and following Thompson's presumed alter-ego to San Juan, Puerto Rico, proved to be an interesting ride.

Despite The Rum Diary having been the first novel Thompson wrote (it was mostly written in 1959 but not published until 1998), it dealt heavily in lamentations on aging and yearning for another man's woman. What really made this novel, though, was the colorful cast of supporting characters in a Puerto Rico that was as much a new frontier for Americans as anything else.

Knowing that a film adaptation was being made, it was hard not to insert Johnny Depp and Amber Heard into the roles of Paul Kemp and Chenault, respectively, because they were the two casting decisions I remembered having read about. I suppose this could have been worse*, but it is a little odd for me as a reader, as it is not often that I read stuff that has been adapted**. It is also somewhat baffling that the newspaper angle has been dropped altogether, and the volatile but vital character of Fritz Yeamon is said to have had his character doled out to other characters.

*I think my appreciation for Amber Heard has to be on the record somewhere...

** The early books in the Dennis Lehane Kenzie/Gennaro series are the only loose exception I can think of immediately.


Back to the book, though, Thompson pens a novel in which the protagonist sits back watching those around him act erratically. Paul Kemp, while self-serving to be sure, more often than not finds himself beholden to morality. While he pines for Chenault, he does not act upon these desires until she has left the drunken abuser, Yeamon. And while he drinks a lot, everyone at the paper drinks incessantly, so he doesn't come across as being particularly debaucherous.

In Kemp, he imbued the novel with a relatable protagonist. As far as initial forays into the Hunter S. Thompson catalog are concerned, this one went off without a hitch. It would seem that it was penned before Thompson embraced what I imagine his gonzo style to incorporate. It is rum soaked to be sure, but the other substances for which he was to be known to use seem all but absent here. The prose suffers no lack of clarity for it, and combined with the book's length (a scant 200-ish pages) makes for a readable, episodic novel that does not show the inexperience of the author. Perhaps most importantly, I can certainly say it likely will not be the last time I read him, so it is a recommendation in that regard.

I can say that despite the reports of rampant Heard nudity, I am very worried about the upcoming adaptation, which seems to have made a lot of changes to the novel--something that seems wholly unnecessary. The novel is very good and had more than enough story to adapt into a nice little island film.

Reading Rainbow: Sacred by Dennis Lehane

Clearly, I've not had a lot of spare time to devote to this creation of mine. This means that almost all of the hits I receive on Inconsiderate Prick are related to Kim Richards--more precisely that hot goddamn picture I found of her on the 'nets circa Meatballs II--something that I hardly consider problematic. If anything it makes me feel like there is this whole society of men between the ages of 25 and 40 who harbor a childhood crush on a young Kim Richards, kinship to Paris Hilton be damned. The weirder thing is that since I found out about the relation, every time I see that socialite I now see the physiological resemblance between the two.

Whatever.

So after that weird baseball book, I read the third book in the Kenzie/Gennaro series, Sacred. As has been the case with the first two books in the series, it was an insanely fast read and compelling throughout. His wry sense of humor comes through in Patrick Kenzie, and his ability to balance that with the morality and brutality of man attains a level of quality not often reached in any medium.

The book was great to put it succinctly. If you want a page-turner that resides in the desirable realm in which the psychologically complex and intense is cut with the ease of a leisurely read, this Lehane series would seem to be your ticket.

Reading Rainbow: "Darkness, Take My Hand" by Dennis Lehane

Darkness, Take My Hand is the second book in the series featuring Boston private investigators Patrick Kenzie and Angie Gennaro. This was, of course, the investigative team featured in the film Gone Baby Gone, the film adaptation of the fourth book in the series. This book finds Kenzie and Gennaro still partners in business only, taking on a case referred to them by a friend. After a few uneventful weeks on the case, they remove themselves from the case believing themselves to be wasting their time and their client's money.

Soon they find themselves in the midst of a grotesque killing spree, at the mercy of a serial killer intent on inserting the two squarely in the middle of the action.

Lehane's prose is gripping and effortless. His ability to illustrate the horror of the killer's heinous acts is adept to say the least. The narrative voice of Patrick Kenzie flows forth from Lehane's pen seemingly without effort, and that voice is one with which you want to see the ride to its end. His books are intensely violent and immensely readable. It is easy to see why David Simon and Ed Burns would have wanted to enlist Lehane to their troop of novelists-cum-screenwriters, as he dives in to the murky waters of the crime-ridden streets of the Boston area with a deft hand and clear vision, often startling the reader with the extreme violence and warped pathology of the criminal mind.

But don't take my word for it...

Books, Books, Books

As much as I wish I had more Tom Waits reviews to relay to the massive (relatively) readership I've attracted over the past few days, I do not.

I have, however, been much more active on the reading front. Since I finished David McCullough's John Adams (yes, I'd like to be able to underline these titles, but I have not been able to figure that out yet), I've read another three books and am about to embark on another, but I feel compelled to get these entries out of the way before I do so. Since this post is going to be covering what could in actuality be at least four long posts, I'm going to be fairly brief in my reviews/reflections on each book in the interest of keeping things moving forward here at Inconsiderate Prick.

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John Adams, by David McCullough

Obviously, this has gotten a lot of attention over the past few years, what with the Pulitzer and the HBO miniseries. For whatever reason (laziness, lack of motivation, alcoholism), it took me almost a year to finish that book. As such, my retention was probably not what I'd have hoped.

McCullough's prose is pretty accessible for history writing, and his painstaking research clearly paid off as the life of our Second President was one of rife with nuance and complexity. His exploration of the unwavering devotion and anachronistic equality within John and Abigail's relationship is largely informed by their own letters to one another and, as such, adds rich personal insight into their lives. Outside of the sphere of the family, the role John Adams played in leading the United States to independence is investigated in great detail with impartiality, thus allowing the reader to see Adams, warts and all.

Was John Adams the world's easiest read? No, but it was not insurmountable and certainly merits a read if solely to gain better insight as to his place in history.

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The Soul of Baseball: A Road Trip Through Buck O'Neill's America, by Joe Posnanski

There is very little impartiality going into my thoughts on this book, as Posnanski is probably my favorite sports writer, and his blog was the first to be entered into the links section here.

That being said, this book was great. It was an incredibly fast read dedicated to a great man, whose efforts to spread the word about the colorful history of Negro League Baseball and his crowning achievement--the Negro League Hall of Fame--drove him to the end. As much as his efforts to keep the memory of the largely forgotten and historically relegated Negro League alive in our collective consciousness started to define who Buck O'Neill was later on in life, it does not take long to see just how much of his success was the result of his kind heart, gentle disposition, and warmth of spirit.

The book is also teeming with great stories of baseball's yesteryear, like Buck O'Neill going to Billy Williams's home (Williams had left his minor league team following one in a series of many discriminatory episodes in his young career ) and staying with them for days, not mentioning baseball once, waiting for Billy to come back on his own terms--well, he also paid some neighborhood kids off to help his cause. His insight into the game was legendary, and his stories ranged from having seen Babe Ruth play when he was a child to hearing that same crack of the bat decades later when Bo Jackson played. He lived in Kansas City in its heyday, saw Charlie Parker playing on the streets as a child, and was close friends with Satchel Paige.

This really is a must-read for any baseball fan or anyone who has the desire to see what makes a man who holds no grudge against anyone, despite having what most would justifiably assume was ample reason to be mad at the world at large. Buck O'Neill's love for baseball and life shine through with ease, and Posnanski's love for his subject and baseball itself certainly do not hurt Buck's cause here. Oh, and the last two chapters are absolutely crushing.

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A Drink Before the War, by Dennis Lehane

The first in the Kenzie-Gennaro series (whose later installment, Gone Baby Gone, was brought to the big screen last year), A Drink Before the War is brilliant. Its narration is great, with Patrick coming across as every bit the wry, hardened Bostonian that he is in the Affleck brothers' effort last year, and the action does not slow once it gets started. The plot is labyrinthine and some pretty dark recesses of the human experience are delved into without hesitation. Politicians are dubious, cops are slightly vengeful, abusive husbands get their comeuppance, and private investigators crack wise as well as Bogey ever did.

Upon first reading, Lehane seems to be a damn gifted writer, and his graying of the codes of morality are thought provoking to say the least. When you finish, you will find yourself wishing there were more. There are, and I certainly anticipate running through the rest of the series once I make some headway in the ever-accumulating stacks of books I have been acquiring.

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Chronicle of a Death Foretold, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

This novel looks back at a puzzling murder that occurred years prior to the narrator's return to the scene crime. In historically investigating the murder of a friend, the inexplicable complicity of the entire village is pulled into the foreground and inspected with careful scrutiny.

As always, Garcia Marquez's prose is beautiful, and his knack for conjuring magical imagery is key to the beauty of the book. At a mere 120 pages, this is a book that could easily be read in an afternoon, and if you like Gabriel Garcia Marquez's other works, there's no reason not to dive right in.