What do you think?
Rate this book
Rock Solid
Relates how two New York City cops risked their lives to find the kingpin of a Lower East Side drug ring
- GenresTrue Crime
255 pages, Hardcover
First published January 9, 1992
13 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 of 1 review
June 11, 2020
This book is shit.
I should elaborate: LeMoult paints over shit with a thin coat of gold, and as you read it flakes until the whole fly-covered dungpile is exposed.
The stories that officers Bose and Barchiesi tell clearly paint them heroically—all of the officers are shown to clearly be compassionate, tough-guys but caring for their city. How nice of them to include individual victims, look, they even respected the murdered by telling their stories!
Except they didn't. The narrators of this story try to sculpt it as best they can, paint it over with coat after coat, but at the end they're still full of it. They only pretended to care about the victims, only pretended to look into their lives when in reality they fabricated tales of victim's escapades from hearsay or their own imagination.
I would know because they call my uncle a slow man, one who barely passed the 4th grade in his "native country" of Poland. One who can't grasp "basic theological concepts." John Lunievicz was murdered, and the officers spouting shit to LeMoult do their very best to disguise their derision of a dead man as sympathetic description. His brother identified the body; they share a last name. He would have described how intelligent his brother was, how before his psychotic break a few years prior he was headed to college on scholarship to play the trombone. How he was still, fundamentally, a good man. No investigation would've been necessary. The officers could've even tracked him down after the identification—at the time, John's brother was the only person in the U.S. with the surname "Lunievicz."
But it certainly makes the glorious NYPD look good when they pity a retard, doesn't it? And LeMoult's prose, such a stunning portrayal of his inner monologue! I'd be fascinated to know whether Bose & Barchiesi came up with that bit, or LeMoult pulled that out of his ass himself.
I sincerely hope both the cops and Lemoult choke on their dinner, alone in their apartments in their old age with no one to help them. Maybe when their bodies are found, I'll write obituaries for each of them detailing how fucking stupid they were in life and how they, combined, had the IQ of a particularly smart lizard. At least my account will be truthful.
Eat shit.
I should elaborate: LeMoult paints over shit with a thin coat of gold, and as you read it flakes until the whole fly-covered dungpile is exposed.
The stories that officers Bose and Barchiesi tell clearly paint them heroically—all of the officers are shown to clearly be compassionate, tough-guys but caring for their city. How nice of them to include individual victims, look, they even respected the murdered by telling their stories!
Except they didn't. The narrators of this story try to sculpt it as best they can, paint it over with coat after coat, but at the end they're still full of it. They only pretended to care about the victims, only pretended to look into their lives when in reality they fabricated tales of victim's escapades from hearsay or their own imagination.
I would know because they call my uncle a slow man, one who barely passed the 4th grade in his "native country" of Poland. One who can't grasp "basic theological concepts." John Lunievicz was murdered, and the officers spouting shit to LeMoult do their very best to disguise their derision of a dead man as sympathetic description. His brother identified the body; they share a last name. He would have described how intelligent his brother was, how before his psychotic break a few years prior he was headed to college on scholarship to play the trombone. How he was still, fundamentally, a good man. No investigation would've been necessary. The officers could've even tracked him down after the identification—at the time, John's brother was the only person in the U.S. with the surname "Lunievicz."
But it certainly makes the glorious NYPD look good when they pity a retard, doesn't it? And LeMoult's prose, such a stunning portrayal of his inner monologue! I'd be fascinated to know whether Bose & Barchiesi came up with that bit, or LeMoult pulled that out of his ass himself.
I sincerely hope both the cops and Lemoult choke on their dinner, alone in their apartments in their old age with no one to help them. Maybe when their bodies are found, I'll write obituaries for each of them detailing how fucking stupid they were in life and how they, combined, had the IQ of a particularly smart lizard. At least my account will be truthful.
Eat shit.
Displaying 1 of 1 review