Good evening, dear ones. I've come to your iPads, laptops and smart phones this evening bearing a gift. I know, if you're Catholic you're probably salivating at the thought of a gargantuan slab of beef covered in meat sauce and drizzled with bacon bits - just hold on, Lent is over in approximately a hundred and eighty six days or so. Unfortunately for some, this gift isn't beef flavored beef - it's a book. It's a really, really fantastic book, actually.
I was recently given the opportunity to review TJ English's new historical narrative, The Savage City, and was duly impressed by the magnitude of this work; City is pure genius encapsulated in 496 pages of this man's blood, sweat and coffee rings. His obvious dedication to the project shines through every paragraph, down to the minutiae details that only the most devoted of researchers would endeavor to acquire. In City, English follows a corrupt police officer, a wrongfully convicted African American teen, and a Black Panthers activist caught in the marrow of New York City's most turbulent decade. As racial strife, police exploitation, and rampant crime reach a pivotal climax, the events that distressed New York throughout the '60s and early '70s are enumerated. The assassination of Malcolm X, the rise and fall of the Black Panthers and the Career Girls murder trial that exposed the multiple layers of corruption within the city's police department are so beautifully detailed that one would begin to think that English was recounting a first-person experience from multiple points of view.
Woven throughout this brilliant narrative is the often touching, yet disturbing story of George Whitmore, a partially blind, nineteen year old African American man who was coerced by police into confessing to several of New York's most brutal murders. You'll find yourself cheering for the boy who ultimately spent the following ten years attempting to prove his innocence and earn back his freedom.
What was so engrossing about English's work was his ability to engage his reader as if he were a close friend. Several times I caught myself speaking aloud to the page, encouraging him to go on. I assure you, he did. Much to my dismay, the book gave a hefty wheeze as I flipped to the last page, ending my three-day relationship with who is undoubtedly my new favorite author. If you're looking for a new avenue of literature or simply yearning to impress your dinner guests with your pretentious reading habits, (I suggest also leaving a dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights on the powder room sink and a brand-spankin' new edition of Malignant Self Love: Narcissism Revisited on the coffee table) I urge you to BUY THIS BOOK. Think of as a treat to yourself for giving up meat during Lent - go ahead, you deserve it.
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