“Jimmy knelt down by the river and plunged his hands in it, oily and polluted. . . We bury our sins here. We wash them clean.”
I have now within a month listened to what I have heard from Goodreads friends are the three best novels from Dennis Lehane, Since We Fell, Shutter Island, and Mystic River. At this point, I have seen two film adaptations of his books that I liked very much, Mystic River and Gone, Baby, Gone. I haven’t read any of his other books (yet), but this one, based on a quick look at the range of them, is pretty much a masterpiece. I thought it was a great movie, seen more than a decade ago, but it is also a very great book, with real depth and passion, a story of tragic loss. Yes, it's a thriller, a mystery, but sometimes works rise above their genres, of course, to be great literature. Shutter Island is very good, a kind of homage to forties noir films; Since We Fell deals with upper-middle-class yuppie types, and both are well-written page-turners. But Mystic River would seem to be Lehane’s real territory, focused as it is on working-class folks from the East Buckingham neighborhood of Boston that Lehane clearly knows very, very well. In the other two books there is nothing approaching the depth of character and knowledge that he lovingly devotes to this Irish Catholic neighborhood, nothing like the compassion he has for each and every one of these people.
I might talk in a lightly spoiler-ish way about some of the early parts of the book—not the ending, promise—because I figure thousands of you have read this or seen it by now.
The novel revolves around three boys who grow up as friends, Dave Boyle, Sean Devine, and Jimmy Marcus. When the story opens, we see Dave abducted by two child molesters posing as cops, while he, Sean, and Jimmy are horsing around on a neighborhood street. Fast forward 25 years and Sean is a depressed cop with marital issues, Jimmy is a an ex-con on a second marriage, and Dave is pretty much an empty shell of a guy, trying to keep his marriage together and the demons at bay. When Jimmy's daughter is murdered, Sean is assigned to the case. His investigation has him confront Jimmy, who wants to take the law into his own hands: Hey, it’s my daughter! And then there is Dave, who came home the night Jimmy's daughter died covered in someone else's blood.
We think we know a lot at this point, but we are going to have unravel a lot of history before we are through (more than 400 pages, but it actually reads quickly, as it is so well-written and what happens is engaging), some of the stories entertwined.
“I'm just saying there are threads, okay? Threads in our lives. You pull one, and everything else gets affected.”
This is largely a man’s story, with loyalty and friendship central: “At that moment, Dave would have lifted a house for Jimmy, held it up to his chest until Jimmy told him where to put it down”
but women—strong, tough, loyal—also play very central roles who say things such :
“Life isn't happily ever after. . . It's work.”
“She was his wife, mother, best friend, sister, lover, and priest.”
Decisions women make are central to what happens. The healing love of family—the love of children—is an important part of this community and this novel. But is it enough to make up for the past?
Mystic River is a majestic but also intensely character-driven thriller that explores how a group of friends in a community can survive who are fiercely loyal, yet hampered by ignorance, lies, self-deception, betrayal and loss.
“What did we line up for? Where did we expect to go? And why were we never as happy as we thought we'd be once we got there?”
There’s an image, near the end, of a parade, in the midst of much anguish and turmoil, and a funeral:
“It was a beautiful day. A great day for a parade.”
The parade functions just as a block party at the beginning of the book had served as a similar ritual moment of healing when Dave Boyle had come home from his nightmare abduction. Or is it a ritual that masks the truth, that hides real feelings? The parade follows a funeral, another moment of a communal moment of healing, we can only hope. Hours in a bar with family and friends, that’s another kind of healing ritual here. But as with the love of family and friends, is any social ritual enough to make up for the weight of the past?
I loved this book and immediately re-ordered the film to see again.