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:

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.