The Given Day
A war-fatigued nation confronts an overheated economy, a tangle of vengeful terrorist organizations, rising joblessness, and racial tension. It sure sounds contemporary but The Given Day, Dennis Lehane鈥檚 wildly ambitious new novel, is set in Boston toward the end of World War I.
Lehane is best known for 鈥淢ystic River鈥� and 鈥淕one, Baby, Gone,鈥� Boston-based police thrillers that double as morality tales even as they peer into the hearts of dysfunctional families and build on complex layers of honor.
But this time, in his eighth novel, Lehane dips back into the past. It鈥檚 an enthralling journey and one that reaffirms the imagination and narrative vigor of Lehane.
鈥淭he Given Day鈥� mixes fact and fiction in epic fashion by swirling such historical figures as Babe Ruth, Communist author John Reed, J. Edgar Hoover, and Calvin Coolidge in with fictional characters. The primary focus of the book is the failed Boston police strike of 1919.
The secondary one is class warfare as depicted in baseball, union drives, and the gap between Boston Brahmins and the city鈥檚 largely Irish working class. Lehane effectively conjures an era when segregation ruled in the North, too 鈥� segregation by both race and class.
Characters like Ruth, whom Lehane conjures particularly vividly, and then-Boston Mayor Andrew Peters, help to frame the intertwined, quickening stories of Aiden 鈥淒anny鈥� Coughlin, a Boston cop of storied Irish legacy, and Luther Laurence, a black man who flees his Tulsa home because of his involvement in a gangland murder.
Laurence winds up in Boston working for Thomas Coughlin, a Boston cop who, unlike his son Danny, values expedience more than principle. Rounding out the troubled Coughlin family are Danny鈥檚 brother Connor, a political opportunist, and Joe, the kid brother who idolizes Danny and supports him when the going gets tough.
And that it surely does, dogging Danny in his affair with the ill-starred Nora O鈥橲hea (a slightly underdeveloped character 鈥� Lehane depicts men better than women here) and in his attempt to reconcile his belief in a police union with the political pressures brought to bear by his union-bashing father.
Danny and Luther are the good guys, though both are prone to violence and hatred.
Blame that on their situations: Danny鈥檚 battles with a legal system that can鈥檛 keep up with the demands of the turbulent times make him a pariah; Luther鈥檚 need to get out of town after he commits a crime against a low-life makes him an outcast, too. Watching these two mature and overcome the circumstances that try their souls is the trajectory of this book.
There are times when 鈥淭he Given Day鈥� soars.
Indeed, the start 鈥� a play-by-play account of a baseball game in southern Ohio that pits Babe Ruth and other white all-stars in a racist duel against an all-black team 鈥� is fantastically well-written. And the viewpoint is clear.
At its core is the notion of family. Here, Danny schools his little brother:
鈥淒anny said, 鈥榊ou can have two families in this life, Joe, the one you鈥檙e born to and the one you build.鈥�
鈥� 鈥楾wo families,鈥� Joe said, eyeing him.
鈥淗e nodded. 鈥榊our first family is your blood family and you always be true to that. That means something. But there鈥檚 another family and that鈥檚 the kind you go out and find. Maybe even by accident sometimes. And they鈥檙e as much blood as your first family. Maybe more so, because they don鈥檛 have to look out for you and they don鈥檛 have to love you. They choose to.鈥� 鈥�
There are the bad eggs, too, like Deacon Broscious, Luther鈥檚 oily Oklahoma nemesis, and his sidekick Smoke; Tessa Abruzze, the terrorist bombshell with whom Danny has an affair in Boston鈥檚 North End; and Eddie McKenna, Danny鈥檚 corrupt, brutal godfather.
All of these are memorable.
Lehane certainly knows how to spin a yarn, and even if 鈥淭he Given Day鈥� seems overstuffed 鈥� it鈥檚 hard to keep track of all the terrorist organizations, for one thing 鈥� its twists and turns keep it moving. Lehane also knows how to reimagine history, vividly dramatizing one of the darker episodes in this nation鈥檚 annals.
Carlo Wolff is a freelance writer from Cleveland.
