I'm just saying there are threads, okay? Threads in our lives. You pull one, and everything else gets affected. Say it rained in Dallas and so Kennedy didn't ride in a convertible. Stalin stayed in the seminary. Say you and me, Sean, say we got in that car with Dave Boyle.
A horrible murder is commited in a blue-collar neighborhood of Boston. Dennis Lehane goes far deeper than your regular crime writer into the motives and the conditions that led to the crime. He concentrates on the personalities of the people involved, on the secrets hidden deep under the faces they show to the world and how those secrets bleed into one another and destroy both the victim the perpetrator. To find the murderer, Lehane follows and unravels threads more than twenty-five years old, introducing three young boys forming an unlikely friendship (the parents are from wide apart social classes). Sean Devine is self-assured and a little arrogant, basking in his parents relative affluence; Jimmy Marcus is impulsive and dangerous, a product of a dysfunctional family; Dave Boyle is needy and fawning, annoying in his clinging to the other two boys. The friendship is cut short when a couple of strangers impersonating police officers kidnap Dave. Dave eventually escapes the child molesters (all this is part of the prologue, so no spoilers yet), but neither him nor the other two boys will ever forget the moment that Fate struck and changed their destiny. Because decades later, the beautiful, innocent daughter of Jimmy Marcus is found dead in a city park. Becasue Sean is the police officer tasked with investigating the murder. And because Dave is among the last persons to see the girl alive, and he is lying about his alibi. The three former friends have grown apart long ago, but the echoes of the childhood trauma is still haunting them and may reflect in the way they deal with the current crime.
The novel is not a fast-paced one, preferring instead the police procedural approach of meticulously gathering evidence and interviewing witnesses, taking into account the relationships and the histories of the whole neighborhood. It stands out for me most of all through the powerful evocation of the turmoil and rage visited on the relatives of the victim, the ones who have to deal with the aftermath of the crime, with the funeral arrangements, with the emptiness left behind by the missing girl, with the need to continue living for the sake of spouses and children and friends.
And often the worst thing wasn't the victims - they were dead, after all, and beyond any more pain. The worst thing was those who's loved them and survived them. Often the walking dead from now on, shell-shocked, hearts ruptured, stumbling through the remainder of their lives without anything left inside of them but blood and organs, impervious to pain, having learned nothing except that the worst things did, in fact sometimes happen.
Still, the novel is not simply a psychological study of trauma and works well enough as a mystery, throwing sufficient doubt about the main suspect to keep the reader guessing until almost the last page. I did get an inkling about the identity of the culprit early on, but it was deftly done, in a blink-and-you-miss-it couple of clues. Anyway, there is more to the story than finding the identity of the murderer. There are the decisions taken by the survivors, mourning walking hand in hand with the thirst for revenge. There is a closure to be found for the car incident from twenty-five years ago. There is the neighborhood that endures and absorbs the pain and learns to go on.
It is difficult to explain how each of the three friends dealt with the past without spoiling major events later on, but I will give it a try : Jimmy has chosen the path of a criminal career, cut up short not so much by prison time, but by he need to take care of his orphaned daughter. Sean is struggling with depression, a common hazard in a policeman, aggravated by a separation from his wife. Dave has the worst problems, but is he solely to blame for his schizophrenic condition or is the society who ignored his need for counselling and support partly responsible?
I have talked mostly about boys who become men, but the women in the novel are as important and often stronger than their husbands or fathers or boyfriends. They can either raise them above themselves or bury them deeper in trouble. Their suffering is moe keen and more bitter than the men's, who find escape either in drink or in violence. Insecure Celeste Boyle, the absent Lauren Devine and especially rock-hard Annabeth Marcus will stand out and be counted as active players in the unfolding drama.
More than the story, I was captivated by the talent of the author to write about the human element of the crime. Fingerprints, blood analysis, balistics, interrogation techniques are all important, but the resolution turns on the personalities and hidden identities of the actors. Jimmy is all about control:
Lotta things are in my blood. Doesn't mean they have to come out.
Sean is all about his failed marriage and ensuing depression:
Lately, though, he's just been tired in general. Tired of people. Tired of books and TV and the nightly news and songs on the radio that sounded exactly like other songs on the radio he'd heard years before and hadn't liked much in the first place. He was tired of his clothes and tired of his hair and tired of other people's clothes and other people's hair. He was tired of wishing things made sense. Tired of office politics and who was screwing who, both figuratively and otherwise. He'd gotten to a point where he was pretty sure he'd heard everything anyone had to say on any given subject and so it seemed he spent his days listening to old recordings of things that hadn't seemed fresh the first time he's heard them.
and Dave is all about the fight between the after-effects of his childhood trauma and his efforts to lead a normal family life.
Unaware, then, how short futures could be. How quick they could disappear, leave you with nothing but a long-ass present that held no surprises, no reason for hope, nothing but days that bled into one another with so little impact that another year was over and the calendar page in the kitchen was still stuck on March.
These passages I have selected give, I hope an idea of the empathy and involvement with the subject demonstrated by Lehane, and also showcase his strong, evocative prose. the author. I was not aware of his biographical details, and actually wondered why is the novel titled "Mystic River"? Turns out Lehane grew up in a similar neighborhood of Boston as the one described in the novel, and that the place has as much to do with the shaping of the destinies of the three friends as the event from their childhood. The social separation between the poor Flats and the affluent Point, the criminal traditions of the Irish and Italian gangs operating in the city, the mostly Catholic upbringing of the majority of the inhabitants, the recent gentrification trend that brings in yuppies from the suburbs and pushes the old tenants out into even more insalubrious parts of the city - all of these factors are reflected in the hearts and soul of the locals.
You came back here because you'd built this village, you knew its dangers and its pleasures, and most important, nothing that happened here surprised you. There was a logic to the corruption and the bloodbaths and the bar fights and the stickball games and the Saturday-morning lovemaking. No one else saw the logic, and that was the point. No one else was welcome here.
I have recently read a comment about how many genre books are similar in style and content and have limited appeal outside a circle of dedicated fans. But that we also keep reading them, digging through the drudge in the hope that one day we will come across a true gem, a story so well written and so moving that it will transcend genre limitations and touch directly the core of our beings, of our beliefs and our dreams. Dennis Lehane did this for me with "Mystic River" and I will go back to his other novels, hoping they are at least as good as the first one I tried.