An engrossing, enlightening, often heartbreaking, and sometimes questionable account of the homeless individuals in New York City who live below ground in the simultaneously safe and dangerous abandoned train and subway tunnels throughout the 1980s and into the early '90s, all from the viewpoint of a young, college-educated, white woman and therefore 'outsider' to the trials and tribulations of those derogatorily known as, the mole people.
I picked up The Mole People as research for an upcoming book, as it covers a unique moment in New York history—that of the early '90s—and more specifically, what life was like underground during the '90s. Jennifer Toth moved to New York City for school and a career in journalism, and after being told by a young girl about "the mole people," she, against the wishes of many, takes to investigating the stories and urban legends of the people who live in the tunnels of the city. She says, in her pursuit to learn the truth and share the stories of the individuals underground, she became too invested, became part of the narrative, and lost her ability to remain as unbiased as a journalist hopes to be, and this is reflected in her dialogue with these individuals and the emotion in her storytelling. I see some readers disappointed in how this book is presented, but she makes no attempt to hide her choices, and reflects on what she did and what could have been done differently, toward the end. I appreciated the honesty, self-doubt, and really, it's all quite astounding when the reader steps back to remind themselves, this is a non-native New Yorker, who isn't accustomed to the unique manner of life in this city, going deep, deep into abandoned tunnels with no protection but a hope and a prayer, during one of the most dangerous decades the city had ever seen.
Her research into how the underground works brings her to meeting a number of different personalities both above and below. She speaks with transit police, uniformed officers, non-profit homeless outreach programs, soup kitchens, churches and synagogues, as well as graffiti artists (including one who speaks about one of the city's most famed artists, the late Sane Smith), and the various societal structures of the tunnel communities, which include: mayors, runners, nurses, and cooks. The communities, Ms. Toth learns, vary from a rigid hierarchy, to loners, to a gaggle of underage runaways who champion each other. Each visit underground, Ms. Toth attempts to highlight these individuals as the humans they are, juxtaposing the book's title by delving into their personalities, struggles, families, reasons that brought them to the tunnels, and sometimes their reasons for staying, proving time and again that homeless can't be treated as 'other' by folks above ground. She includes these individuals' thoughts on why outreach programs are problematic (again, remember this is a dated account and is relevant to what the city was doing around '91-93) and what they hope to see, if society really does want to help them and understand what led to their current situations.
It's a fascinating book. Sometimes the content feels unbelievable, and Ms. Toth includes her own sentiments when both authority and homeless seem to inflate stories, but it paints a vivid and astounding picture of a moment lost to time.