by Denis Hamill
In November of 1969, Danny Cassidy was either the witness to, or the perpetrator of, a cold blooded murder of a police officer on Hippie Hill in Brooklyn's Prospect Park. It is 2001, now, and Danny doesn't know which, because on that long-ago night, he was too strung out on drugs to know what he was seeing or doing. After 32 years of staying far away from Brooklyn and the events of 1969, Danny is finally drawn back by the death of his father. Waiting for him there are two police officers who still want to pin Vito Malone's murder on him, his long lost sweetheart Erika Malone (the victim's daughter), and a whole crowd of the characters he knew then and who are now all integrated parts of a Brooklyn transformed by gentrification and time. What follows slowly develops into a pretty well crafted mystery story. There are vivid characters from 1969, some of whom have gone on to fame and wealth, others who still live in the sewers and subway tunnels. As in any good mystery, there are many people who have motives for murder, even Danny Cassidy himself. Danny tries to figure out if he did the killing, while also trying to figure out the hidden motives and connections that linger after three decades. The 1960s, as remembered here, were a gritty, edgy time of drugs and chaos that have only barely been forgotten in the new Brooklyn. And, overall, the story is well constructed and, by the end, engrossing. Hamill knows the Brooklyn he writes about, and there are many familiar street and park scenes. The changes Danny observes give the story an immediacy and relevence. The one fairly dramatic drawback, however, is Hamill's depiction of his women characters, and of sex in general. Without exception, the women under sixty are quite occupied by sex and are not shy to relive their sexual pasts or to use sex as a tool. Danny's high school sweetheart, improbably reappears wearing the same clothes she wore in 1969, and tosses herself at his feet. A young woman cop berates another for his sexist attitude and turns around two pages later coming on to her suspect and luring him to bed. All in all, most of the characters have sex on the mind and a peculiar preoccupation with virginity (losing one's "cherry") that makes one wonder if these characters have done any growing up in 32 years and which is rather off-putting throughout the book. 'Tis a shame, too. When the author sticks to the mystery, the book is engaging.
[Other books on the 60s & Counterculture]
See Also: [Downtown: My Manhattan by Pete Hamill]