Book Report: Long Bright River

11. Liz Moore, Long Bright River (2020) (5/23/22) (BB#4)

A mystery/thriller that goes deeper than mere plot, this book explores a particular place—the rough Kensington district of Philadelphia—and the dynamics of family, within the context of the opioid crisis. It begins with police officer Michaela (Mickey) Fitzgerald being first on scene of a reported overdose, which she recognizes as murder by strangulation. Soon, other, similar deaths are announced. And Mickey becomes increasingly worried: about her younger sister, Kacey, who struggles with drugs, whose ties to family are tenuous as a consequence. And who, she learns, has not been seen in over a month.

The story is told in Mickey's voice, leaping back and forth between "Now" and "Then" as she recounts, on the one hand, her day-to-day interactions and investigations as a police officer and, on the other, her and her sister's growing up, raised by their grandmother after their mother ODs and their father takes off, and the social dynamics of that time. The adolescent Mickey finds a place in an after-school program run by the police, where she meets an older officer who takes her under his wing. He encourages her to go to college—but that's "not done" in their social class. Becoming a patrol cop seems the next most logical option. 

The narration slyly reveals and conceals facts, allowing for some twists and turns. Many characters are introduced, making the final solution mostly believable (if only a little surprising, because that character in particular seemed to have a rather random presence in the story generally speaking).

Mostly, though, as I said, this is about more than simple plot. The dive into the past allows for an evolution to occur, one that is put to the test as the present-day events culminate.  And of course, not everyone is exactly what they seem—though some are, and friendships are lost as a result of suspicion. It's an interesting, well-paced book and kept me turning the pages. Can't ask for much more.

By way of excerpt, here's the very start of the book:

There's a body on the Gurney Street tracks. Female, age unclear, probable overdose, says the dispatcher.
     Kacey, I think. This is a twitch, a reflex, something sharp and subconscious that lives inside me and sends the same message racing to the same base part of my brain every time a female is reported. Then the more rational part of me comes plodding along, lethargic, uninspired, a dutiful dull soldier here to remind me about odds and statistics: nine hundred overdose victims in Kensington last year. Not one of them Kacey. Furthermore, this sentry reproves me, you seem to have forgotten the importance of being a professional. Straighten your shoulders. Smile a little. Keep your face relaxed, your eyebrows unfurrowed, your chin untucked. Do your job.

An aside: I have a habit of noting words I don't know at the back of books as I read them. This book had just one such: strigine, as in this description:

The girl behind the counter is thin and has bangs that go straight across her forehead and a sort of winter hat that holds them in place. The boy next to her has hair that's dark at the root and dyed a faded platinum toward the end. His glasses are large and strigine.

Moore is good at description, of both people and place. I appreciate that. And at 480 pages, I'm calling this a Big Book. My rules!